The Ragpicker Mate He Cast Aside
Chapter 3
Eden's eyes flared.
"You've gone mad from that she-wolf's lies!"
In a blur of motion, she lunged forward.
She wrenched the pup from Peter's grasp, her fingers digging into his flesh like talons.
Then, with a swift and brutal motion, she shoved him back.
Two sharp slaps, like the crack of a whip, echoed through the room.
Peter fled, his nose dripping blood.
Eden turned, her eyes instantly softening as she looked at me and the pup.
Her hands, now gentle and tender, reached out to us.
"Scared you, pup? Come live with me. I'll guard you both."
Her words warmed my heart, like a cozy fire on a cold winter's night.
But a nagging prickle of suspicion lingered in the back of my mind.
Was this a ruse, a carefully crafted deception to steal my precious pup?
"Thanks. Go rest-visit tomorrow," I said, my voice laced with a hint of caution.
As she left, her promise hung in the air like a delicate web. "You're always mistress here."
The moon blood test results arrived at first light.
An attendant, their face pale and solemn, shoved a parchment packet into my hands.
I tore it open with trembling hand.
And then, my world tilted on its axis.
Conclusion: No genetic link to Peter Thornfield.
It was the same lie as in my past life.
But I'd plucked his hairs myself. How could this be?
I'd never strayed under any moon, never betrayed my mate.
A click at the door jolted me back to reality.
I stuffed the scroll under my pillow. "Lila, you look gaunt," Eden crooned, her voice sickeningly sweet as she brushed my cheek.
I flinched, my eyes fixed on the window, unable to meet her gaze.
"Time for the pup's lunar bath," a healer called.
A nursemaid reached for the crib, her movements slow and hesitant.
"Go with them, mother," I urged, hoping to get Eden out of the room.
Eden waved her off dismissively, her eyes never leaving mine.
"They'll return him soon."
Most granddams hover over their pups, showering them with love and attention. Yet she always lingered near me, not the pup. Why?
"I need rest," I lied, closing my eyes, praying she would leave.
Her gaze burned into me, like a searing hot brand, before she finally padded out of the room.
Alone, I shredded the scroll and flushed it down the drain, watching as the pieces disappeared into the darkness.
But no answers came, only more questions.
When my lunar confinement ended, Eden begged me to stay in her home.
Desperate to solve the mystery, I agreed.
Peter stormed in twice, howling for a bond break.
Each time, Eden chased him of.
As she stood between us, her body tense and ready for battle, I thought: This is the mother I never had.
One day, while she went out, I decided to tidy her room.
As soon as I stepped inside, a stench hit me, a nauseating mix of my own scent and something foul, something rotten.
It was as if the air itself was contaminated. I lifted her blanket, and time seemed to stand still.
My old clothes-underwear, nursing wraps-lay piled beneath, a macabre shrine.
The sight was both terrifying and confusing.
What was she doing with my things?
The lock beeped, and my heart stopped.
I slammed the blanket down, my hands shaking.
Eden entered, her eyes narrowing as she handed my sweaty brow.
"Overworked, Lila. Rest."
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