Elsa

I dragged my exhausted body into Stone Industries, last night’s scene still playing in my mind. Drake’s cold voice, Vera’s strawberry perfume lingering on his skin, his declaration that he wanted a “proper relationship” with her—all of it cut like knives.

Fuck you, Drake. All this time together and this is what I get.

But my career had to continue. My mother still needed her expensive silver toxicity treatments, and in this wolf society, an Omega without protection had almost no chance of survival. And that’s what really pisses me off—I need the bastard even when I hate him.

The elevator doors opened, and I took a deep breath, adjusted my expression, and straightened my shoulders. But when I walked toward my desk, I stopped dead—Vera was sitting in my chair, her fingers dancing across my keyboard.

My personal items were gone—photos, pen holder, even my custom chair cushion. In their place were Vera’s pink notebook and strawberry-shaped air freshener.

A surge of white-hot rage shot through me. That conniving little bitch is literally erasing me.

“What’s going on?” I kept my voice controlled, hiding my shock and anger, though my wolf was snarling, urging me to rip her throat out.

Vera looked up, a flash of triumph crossing her face before morphing into that fake “scared” expression I’d come to know so well. “Oh, Elsa! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Drake says he needs to mentor me closely, so…” Her voice trailed off, those big eyes filled with manufactured remorse.

Mentor? Is that what they’re calling it now? He just wants your tight little ass within groping distance.

“Of course. Close ‘mentoring.'” My wolf howled, wanting to tear apart this woman who was taking everything from me.

But I only nodded and asked, “Where’s my desk now?”

Vera pointed to an empty desk in the corner of the office area, far from Drake’s office, far from the core area, next to the copier and break room. The corporate equivalent of exile.

“Your things are all there ,” she said softly, as if this were a minor thing.

I saw other secretaries and assistants pretending to work, but I knew they were all watching this drama unfold. Elsa Hale, once senior assistant and Drake’s right hand, now relegated to the corner.

Public humiliation. That’s what this is. Drake’s showing everyone I’ve been replaced. Goddamn him to hell.

“Thank you for letting me know,” I said calmly, turning toward my new workspace. Every step felt like walking to an execution, my dignity in tatters around me.

As I passed, I heard Kayla whisper: “She won’t last long, don’t worry.”

But I wasn’t sure if she meant Vera—or me.

At lunchtime, most office staff left for their break. I stayed at my desk, trying to focus on reorganizing financial reports—work I’d inherited from Kayla, apparently being deemed more suitable for basic tasks than coordinating inter-pack projects.

Fucking busywork. All my experience and I’m doing data entry like an intern.

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