Chapter 3

After everyone left that night, I turned to Caelan.

"I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days. Sort through some things."

He didn't ask questions. "Want me to drive you?"

"No."

The old house is where my parents, Mirabel, and I used to live. My parents moved away after I got married, but many of our old belongings are still there.

I went up to the attic and searched through somthing old.

In a leather suitcase, I found things Mirabel had left behind.

Diaries. Photos. A small metal box.

I opened the box. Inside were letters.

The top envelope was yellowed. But the handwriting was neat and careful.

**To Caelan.**

I pulled out the page inside.

*Caelan, you came over again today to see my sister. The way you looked at her made my heart hurt. I know I shouldn't feel this way. I'm sorry. I love you.*

Another one.

*Caelan, I heard you and my sister are getting married. She's so lucky. If I had met you first — would things be different?*

My hands started shaking.

I kept reading.

The last one was not a letter. It was a photo.

Mirabel and Caelan standing under a cherry tree. Her head on his shoulder. Her hand on her belly.

On the back, in her handwriting: The one not loved is the mistress.

I held the photo. My fingers were ice cold.

It had started so early. And I'd been like the fool, I had been too blind to see.

So where was my real child?

I pulled out my phone. I drew in one long breath.

I texted the investigator.

*Check the records at the Shifter Maternity Center. June 21, 3:00 to 5:00 PM. *

*Also — check Mirabel's full overseas history. Focus on any birth records.*

Then my home security app sent an alert.

Motion detected in living room.

I frowned. Caelan should be at work. The housekeeper was off.

I opened the live feed.

The camera pointed at the sofa. Mirabel walked into the frame.

Caelan sat there, tie loose around his neck. Mirabel was wearing a thin silk slip dress. She was sitting in Caelan's lap. Her fingers were working slowly down the buttons of his shirt.

Caelan wasn't pushing her off. His hand slid up her back, into her hair, then down to her waist.

I felt it. My bonding mark burned.

Not imagined. Not oversensitive. Real.

For eighteen years, he had told me I was imagining things.

The Mark had been resonating the whole time. With another woman.

I watched the screen until I couldn’t anymore. Then I turned it off.

I ran to the bathroom and threw up. Nothing came out. Just acid burning all the way up my throat.

My phone vibrated again. And again. And again.

The investigator.

“Ms. Shaw. I found it.”

“Mirabel entered Country M in July. In August, she gave birth to a full‑term baby boy at a private shifter clinic in Country M. Registered species: Cheetah × Jaguar hybrid (F1).”

“I also retrieved the records from the Shifter Maternity Center for your delivery date. One snow leopard female infants were born that afternoon. The hospital has since closed. Original records lost.”

“But in november of that same year, when Mirabel returned to Country M, she had a baby girl with her. Approximately five months old."

“The girl’s registered name is Una. Underground Shift Market are illegal in Country M Chinatown. Minors will forced to shift for spectators. When they grow up, they are made to fight each other there for gambling purposes."

“Due to her rare species (snow leopard), Una has been forced to shift three to four times a week since she was eight. Her body shows extensive scarring, both from combat and from human-form beatings. ”

“Mirabel collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.”

Photos came with the messages.

A dimly lit corner of a back alley.

A small silver leopard curled in a cage. Ribs showing. Fur dull. An unhealed scar over its left eye.

Next photo. A close‑up of an arm. Bruises layered over older bruises.

I stared at the screen.

My daughter had been out there. Forced to shift. Forced to fight. Forced to be beaten. Forced to give her money to the woman who stole her.

Hate flooded through me.

I stood up. My vision went dark for a few seconds.

I caught the wall. Dug my nails into my palm until the pain brought me back.

I cried for a long time until my eyes were dry. Then I sent everything to my lawyer.

Then I called AF Group. Vexmoor's biggest competitor.

“I’ll sign the patent transfer tomorrow. But I have one condition. Vicksmore Group must go bankrupt.”

A low laugh came from the other end. A calm male voice.

"Done."

I hung up and looked at all the evidence on my phone.

Caelan. I made you. And I will break you.