Chapter 3

The next day, I was jolted awake by the shrill ringing of my phone.

It was the cremation center.

"Miss Harrington, when are you going to pay the rest of the fee? It's just five hundred bucks—do you really need a whole month for that?"

"If we don't get it in three days, we're canceling your reservation. The deposit's non-refundable!"

My voice was hoarse, but I rushed to explain, "Please—just give me a little more time. I'll get my paycheck in two weeks, and then—"

"We're not waiting two weeks!" the voice snapped, cutting me off. "Unbelievable. You're dragging your feet over a damn urn?"

"If you're broke, why reserve one ahead of time?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but the call had already ended.

My head throbbed with pain. I barely held myself together as I called the bar manager, hoping to get an advance on my wages.

But his voice came through colder than ever.

"Just so you know—don't come in today."

"And you're not getting paid either. If Mr. Harrington says so, there's nothing we can do."

My mind went blank. Blood drained from my face, and my voice cracked in panic.

"You can't do this! This violates labor laws. I'll file a complaint with the union!"

He laughed coldly. "The union? Go ahead. Mr. Harrington said he'll handle any consequences."

"The Harrington family's legal team is one of the best in the country. You want to go up against that? Be my guest."

With that, he hung up.

The rage and despair stuck in my chest like a stone, and I couldn't breathe.

My face turned pale. I tasted blood in the back of my throat.

Then, without warning, I coughed up a mouthful of it.

Staring at the vivid red stain on the sheets, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

The werewolf vitality that once pulsed through me was draining fast.

It took me a while to wipe the blood away with shaking hands.

I fumbled for the painkillers and swallowed them dry.

After that, I could barely sit upright.

Leaning against the bed, I thought back on the past five years since my exile.

And suddenly it hit me—every single escape route I'd ever had, every chance at survival, had been cut off by my own brother.

Now, I couldn't even keep a job at a rundown bar.

I didn't know where my next meal would come from, let alone how I'd afford painkillers or an urn.

All I ever wanted was a dignified end. Not to rot on some roadside like a stray.

What did I do to deserve this?

I covered my face and sobbed. I cried until the sun dipped low, and my strength returned enough to move.

Looking down at my trembling hands, I made up my mind.

I would go back—back to that mansion on the hill.

And I'd ask Kieran, face to face—

What gave him the right to destroy me?