The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 363

Third Person's POV

Trista: "That check Howard gave you six years ago—was it really stolen?"

Samantha: "A check for that much? I'd never seen that many zeros in my life. You think I'd just let someone take it? It's been sitting in my private offshore account the whole time."

Trista: "Who is Algernon's biological father?"

Samantha: "Don't even bring up that loser. If I'd known his family was going bankrupt, I never would've bothered sleeping with him. He's trash. He couldn't even compare to Cassian at all."

Trista: "Crispin never did anything to you. Why did you kill him?"

Samantha: "Blame that old bastard at Ironthorn! He threatened Cassian—said if he stayed with me, the inheritance would go to that half-blood brat. Why should he get anything? Everything that belongs to Ironthorn belongs to my son!"

Trista: "So you had him taken out?"

Samantha: "I didn't get my own claws dirty. I just gave a cleaner fifty grand to move the warning signs at the ski resort. It's not my fault the kid was low-born. Dying in an 'accident' was exactly what he deserved."

The recording played on. The bloody truth fermented in the air, clashing with the scent of expensive wine.

The room exploded. The guests weren't just looking at Samantha with contempt anymore—they were looking at her like a rabid dog waiting for its execution.

Seeing the ship sinking, Georgia quickly suppressed her arrogant pheromones. She grabbed George and Angela, and the three of them tried to slink through the crowd toward the exit.

Their faces were ghostly pale as they whispered curses, already plotting how to vanish before the Ironthorn enforcers locked down the building.

Isaiah let out a bone-chilling laugh. "Damn. That's not an omega; that's a venomous coyote. That rot is so foul I think my wolf is gonna gag."

Fred shot a look at Wynn, who immediately moved to steady a pale Alaina. Wynn released a constant stream of soothing energy, trying to keep her mother from shifting out of pure, unadulterated rage.

Across the chaotic room, Cassian's eyes met Trista's for a split second.

His Alpha's pupils were a turbulent, dark red—a mix of self-loathing and raw violence. Trista's expression didn't change. Her cool gaze lingered for exactly one second before she looked away.

Samantha's brain went into a total blackout. Her senses quit on her.

She didn't remember saying any of those things, and she couldn't wrap her head around how her death warrant had been turned into a public broadcast.

When she finally snapped out of it, she went into a frenzy. She shrieked, lunging toward the long table to smash the recorder.

But Humphrey was way ahead of her.

Dominic roared, his eyes bulging. "We had a deal! I kill Crispin, and when you get back to L.A. and bag your Alpha, you give me another fifty grand. You stiffed me on the cash, and now you don't know me? I'll rip your throat out!"

Samantha whimpered, trying to shrink behind Cassian. "Cassian, I don't know him, please make him go away..."

Cassian didn't even look at her. He just gave a slow, cold clap.

The ballroom doors swung open again, and another man walked in.

Cassian looked down at Samantha, his Alpha pressure so cold it felt like it was freezing the oxygen in the room.

His voice was a hoarse, lethal whisper. "You don't know Dominic? Fine. But this man... surely you recognize his scent."

"Ainsley?"

The second Samantha saw the man stepping out of the shadows, fear choked her.

She was like a panicked bird, her nails clawing at the floorboards as she tried to retreat into the corner.

The man named Ainsley was well-dressed, but he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he approached her, looking at her like she was a pile of rotting meat. "Samantha. It's been a few years. I see you're still the same bitch, always ready to wag your tail for whoever's on top."