Fake Mate Beta Rises to Alpha Heiress (Natalie and Landon) novel Chapter 31

**Chapter 31: Separate Emotion From Benefit**

**Natalie’s POV:**

Even from my spot in the dimly lit corner of the ballroom, he illuminated the space like the moon gracing a starless night. There was a magnetic quality to him, an inherent glow that belonged to only the most distinguished of werewolves. The shadows around him seemed to conspire to enhance his brilliance, making him the focal point of my attention, much to my dismay.

Eleanor, clearly overwhelmed by the sight, turned on her heel and rushed out of the ballroom, her expression a mixture of distress and resignation. I could sense her heartache, a reflection of my own turmoil.

“Liam!” I heard my name echoing through the air, his voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts. I blinked, trying to shake off the spell that had captured me.

“Don’t pay any mind to Eleanor’s dramatics,” Liam reassured me, his tone calm and steady. “The woman dancing with Leonardo is Victoria Thompson. They go way back.” His words were carefully chosen, but I was all too aware that their relationship was far deeper than mere friendship.

Leonardo and Victoria were not just acquaintances; they were childhood sweethearts, entwined in a history that spanned years, rooted in the legacies of their prominent werewolf families. The Thompsons were a name synonymous with scholarly pursuits, known for their extensive research into werewolf history and culture. Leonardo had spent his formative years immersed in ancient pack laws and rituals alongside the Thompsons. As life pulled them in different directions, they had drifted apart, but tonight, their reunion felt electric. Victoria, one of the esteemed hosts of this charity event, moved with him as if they were two halves of a whole, their dance a testament to a bond that had never truly faded.

I had noticed Victoria’s regal demeanor earlier during the speeches, her grace and poise unmistakable, a hallmark of high-ranking werewolves. Yet, I hadn’t realized she was also a central figure in this gathering, a guest of honor.

My gaze was drawn back to the dance floor, where Leonardo and Victoria glided effortlessly, their movements in perfect harmony. They were like two wolves, instinctively attuned to each other, every turn and every step a reflection of shared experiences, a dance that spoke of unspoken familiarity.

But I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I averted my gaze, snatching a glass of champagne from a nearby table, the cold liquid momentarily distracting me from the unsettling emotions bubbling within. I took a sip, hoping to quell the strange discomfort that had settled in my stomach.

It was nothing, I reminded myself. The alliance was what it was. His social life was his own; I had no claim to it.

Setting the glass down, I decided it was time to leave the ballroom. There was no point in lingering in a space that felt increasingly suffocating. With an early flight scheduled for the morning, clarity of mind was essential. As a mixed-blood with human lineage, I had faced my share of marginalization within werewolf society, and maintaining a rational perspective was crucial.

Once back in the solitude of my room, I finished packing my belongings, and just then, my phone lit up with notifications. Three missed calls and a single message awaited me.

*1/4*

*18:33 Mon, Dec 8*

Landon was responsible for two of the calls and the message, his words laced with his usual, irritating timidity. He inquired if I was returning the next day. I glanced at the screen, my heart sinking, and swiped it away. There was nothing left to discuss between us. I had successfully extricated myself from the entanglement of that false mate contract.

The other missed call was from Leonardo, but it had lasted only a few seconds—a misdial, perhaps, with no voicemail left behind.

I hesitated, my finger hovering over the call-back button, but ultimately, I set the phone down. It felt unnecessary.

The planned cooperation and potential marriage alliance with the Silver-Maned Pack would move forward as intended. Reaching out would only portray me as desperate or fragile. After Landon’s deceptive bond, I had learned the importance of disentangling emotion from practical benefit.

Leonardo was undeniably powerful; I acknowledged that truth. But I refused to meddle in his personal affairs, nor should I allow myself to care about them.

I switched off my phone and lay back on the bed, the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow that instinctively soothed my restless werewolf spirit. I closed my eyes, surrendering to a dreamless slumber.

As dawn broke, I stepped out of the hotel, suitcase in tow, feeling lighter than I had in days. There were pressing matters awaiting me back home—issues surrounding my identity, the inheritance I had received, and the latent power from my father, the Alpha of the Moon-Shadowed Pack, that seemed to be stirring within me.

Once the client departed, I instinctively checked my phone again. There were no messages from Natalie all day. The message from last night had vanished into the ether, and my calls this morning had gone straight to voicemail. This time, it felt different—this wasn’t a mere tantrum; it seemed she genuinely didn’t care about me anymore.

As I walked through the airport, I noticed several reporters lurking near the VIP terminal, my car parked in that section as well. I asked my assistant to find out what they were waiting for.

“They’re here for the Scott family heiress,” he informed me.

“The Scott family heiress?” I repeated, curiosity piqued.

“Yes, sir. Rumor has it she just returned from a high-profile werewolf charity banquet in Calithera. In previous years, the Scott family’s patriarch attended in person. There are whispers in both business and pack circles that a shift in heirs is on the horizon. Their position in the ancient werewolf council may be at stake,” he explained, his tone serious.

The Scott family had always been a powerful entity, one I had long sought to connect with, but my previous requests for cooperation had all fallen on deaf ears.

I paused, allowing the implications to sink in. I pulled out my phone to look up information on the heiress. Strangely, there was little to be found online; she was an enigma, having never made a public appearance in werewolf social circles, not even a blurry photograph to be found.

I racked my brain, trying to recall the alumni group chat. Someone had mentioned her, but after a long search, I found that the images had expired and were no longer accessible.

If the Scott family was truly in the midst of a power transition, perhaps this was my opportunity. An heir who had never been publicly visible could mean more room for maneuvering.

Attempting to engage with the Scott family of the Moon-Shadowed Pack was clearly beyond the current capabilities of the Richardson family. However, if there was internal turmoil, especially concerning a change in leadership, perhaps I could find a way to exploit that situation. I halted my steps, deep in thought about the possibilities ahead.