My fingertips slid across the cold screen of my phone.

The painting Brian sent me—it was nothing more than a disgusting copy.

The original piece? My artwork from three years ago, one I’d never shown anyone. A piece born from heartbreak. I have no clue how Silvia found out about it, but the painting she’s now calling hers is identical to mine.

Three years ago, one night. Brian and I had agreed to have dinner together. I waited, full of hope, counting down the minutes until he’d come back.

But he didn’t. I waited from day to night, and he never showed up. I ended up standing alone at the cliff behind the Blackwood Pack manor, the moonlight stretching my shadow long and thin. It wasn’t until later I found out he’d been chasing after his first love—chasing a lie because the news he got that day wasn’t even real.

That moment wrecked me. I was completely shattered. So, I went back to my room and poured all that loneliness and despair onto a canvas.

Now, Silvia’s taken my pain and dressed it up as if it’s her own masterpiece.

No, not exactly the same.

My painting, set where moonlight met the edge of the forest, held a small, curled-up wolf hidden in a deep, almost black shade of blue. That wolf was me—a soul without a wolf spirit, longing for a place to belong. But Silvia’s painting? None of that. Hers was just an empty imitation, all surface-level moonlight and a wolf, no soul at all. She had no clue what the painting really meant. She wasn’t anything more than a lousy thief—first stealing my husband, and now trying to steal my work.

“Ms. Rebecca?” Leo’s voice pulled me from those cold memories.

His face showed a mix of confusion and hesitation. “Are we really… going to say no to Alpha Brian? He’s the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack. Our gallery might be independent, but openly offending him…”

“No.” I turned off my phone, done looking at that sham of a painting. “We’re not saying no.”

Leo’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean…”

“Reply to him,” I said, pausing for a moment before continuing, “tell him the Rose Gallery would be honored to showcase his wife’s masterpiece. The painting can be part of the exhibit.

“Not only that—give it the best spot. Right at the entrance, under the best lighting. Make sure it’s the first thing every guest sees when they walk in.”

Leo’s face was full of questions, but he didn’t press further. He simply nodded and said, “Understood, ma’am. I’ll take care of it right away.”

“Wait a second.” I stopped him, the smile on my lips growing wider. “And one more thing—get that painting I did three years ago, ‘The Waiting,’ from my private collection. I’ll be unveiling it myself.”

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