The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 320

Chapter 320

Riley’s POV

I let my eyes sweep across their faces-one by one.

Alaric, Zara. Scarlett. Kael.

Each of them flinched beneath my stare, unable to meet my gaze. Even Kael, all fire and fury a second ago, broke eye contact first.

I knew what they were doing. What they were hoping for.

That I’d fall silent again.

That I’d back down. Again.

But I didn’t.

“Fine,” I said coolly, my voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Since none of you will say it, I will.”

I stepped forward.

“The

gown Kael picked up was perfectly intact. The dashcam can prove I never touched it, never even looked at it during the ride. But somehow, by the time Scarlett slipped it on, it was torn.”

I turned toward the guests, toward the room filled with powerful families and polished reputations.

“So tell me,” I asked, louder now, “who really damaged the dress?”

My voice dropped to a quiet, dangerous hush.

“And more importantly-why is everyone so afraid of checking the damn footage?”

No one moved.

Because they knew. If the truth came out, they couldn’t pin this on me.

Couldn’t let me be the scapegoat.

Not again.

“I guess that’s the problem, right?” I laughed bitterly. “If the dashcam proves I’m innocent, then

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Chapter 320

who’s left to carry the blame?”

I looked straight at Alaric and Zara.

“To carry the blame… to take the fall… to take the punishment meant for someone else.”

That last sentence hit like a grenade.

Zara’s tears came quickly, but they didn’t move me.

“Riley… it’s not like that. You’re my daughter too. I’ve always-”

I cut her off with a single look.

A sharp, dead-cold stare.

And this time, she had no defense.

“I don’t care what you call me anymore,” I said. “It means nothing.”

I turned and walked away.

And when I reached the hallway corner, fate twisted the knife once more.

He was there.

Maddox.

Leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting for me.

I didn’t slow down.

Didn’t look at him.

But just as I passed, his voice drifted past my shoulder-low and familiar.

“I believe you, Riley.”

It didn’t soothe me.

It gutted me.

Because belief meant nothing now.

Not when it came too late.

Back in the storeroom, I stood in the doorway for a long time,

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Then I stepped inside.

Sat on the fold-up cot, the same one I’d slept on for three years.

I felt hollow.

Not angry. Not even hurt anymore.

Just… emptied.

I stared at the wall, the faded uniforms, the ceiling with water stains.

This had been my world.

But not anymore.

I gathered my things-a plastic bag, worn shoes, a faded T-shirt.

I was leaving.

Then, just as I reached for the door-

It opened.

And standing there was the only person in this house who’d ever treated me like I mattered.

Mia.

She was older now, maybe sixty, her greying hair pulled back tight, her Omega scent faint but distinct-a soft blend of rosemary and iron.

“Miss Riley…” Her voice trembled. “You’re really back?”

I froze.

My lips parted. “Mia?”

No one else called me that anymore.

Not Miss Riley.

Just Riley.

Just that girl.

But Mia always remembered.

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In a house that treated me like an unwanted stain, she was the only one who saw me as hers.

I remembered those summer nights-when the storeroom boiled like an oven and she snuck in an old fan she’d bought herself. I remembered her tucking an electric blanket under my thin mattress during winter, whispering, “Don’t tell anyone.”

I blinked away tears I didn’t have the strength to shed.

Mia looked at the plastic bag in my hand. “You’re leaving?”

I nodded.

She didn’t try to stop me.

She just stepped forward and took my arm. “Sit. Let me clean that wound first.”

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