Chapter 22

Cora

For the first time in a long while, I forgot the chaos of work, the heaviness of single motherhood, and the sharp edges of everything that had happened lately. Shopping with Daisy felt… normal. It felt like before.

Before the distance between Daisy and me.

Before Zach and the warehouse and all the complicated mess that had become my life.

Daisy looped her arm through mine as we wandered past the boutiques downtown. She pointed out a velvet dress in a window display that reminded her of something I used to wear when we were children, and we both burst out laughing.

“Remember that ugly red turtleneck you forced me into for Christmas photos?” she teased.

I rolled my eyes. “You begged for that photo shoot. I still have the picture.”

She snorted and nudged me. It felt easy and real, as if time had rewound.

After our third round of store hopping, I took her to a bench near the fountain where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. I pulled out a small paper bag from my tote and handed it to her.

“What’s this?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Just… something I wanted to give you.”

Inside were her favorite flower-shaped cookies I had made from scratch the night before. I had even decorated them with pink icing—her favorite color and tucked between them was a folded sheet of lavender paper.

“I wanted to say sorry too,” I said, watching her expression shift. “For everything. I know I’ve been distant. Maybe even cold sometimes. I got so caught up trying to earn enough, trying to keep things afloat… I stopped seeing you.”

She didn’t speak, but her eyes started to shimmer.

“I’ve always thought you were the most wonderful person in the world, Daisy,” I went on softly. “I know you’ve made mistakes, but so have I. None of it changes the fact that you’re my sister, and I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

Daisy’s smile faltered for just a second. She stiffened almost imperceptibly. A flicker of something unreadable passed through her expression, but it was gone before I could place it.

I reached up and patted her head like I used to when she was little and too proud to ask for affection.

“I’m here. No matter what,” I said again.

She nodded, her voice thick. “Thanks, Cora.”

We hugged under the falling blossoms, and for a moment, I believed we’d finally come to forgive each other.

Later that night, I sat cross-legged on the floor of my apartment, the hard drive from the warehouse clutched in my hands. I’d almost forgotten about it—almost convinced myself it wouldn’t matter after all of the trouble and torment I had gone through to get it.

But of course it mattered.

That drive held the security footage, documents, backups—all the proof I needed to prove that I wasn’t behind the leaks that had been blamed on me. But when I tried plugging it in, I’d found nothing but blank sectors.

Over the next few days, I took it to three separate data recovery specialists, trying to get it to load the information I desperately needed. I had risked everything to get these answers.

Each gave me the same answer: “Sorry. Nothing we can do.”

Defeated, I sat down outside of the company, turning the hard drive over in my hands. After some time had passed, I looked up to find Ethan standing there, arms folded, wearing that smug, boyish grin.

“It’s wiped,” I said, holding it up. “I’ve tried everything.”

Ethan took the drive, turning it over in his hand. Then he grinned and pocketed it. “Leave it with me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re good with computers?”

He winked. “Some would say it’s my magical specialty.”

I burst out laughing before I could stop myself. “You’re sure you can crack it? I’ve taken it to a few specialists who said it was beyond help.”

His grin was wolfish and smug. “Give me half a day.”

I gave a disbelieving chuckle. “What a gentleman.”

He shrugged. “It’s what I’m known for, after all.”

I didn’t expect anything to come of it. But when Ethan texted me four hours later with a single line—You’re gonna wanna see this—I nearly dropped my phone.

He’d done it.

He recovered the data.

And it was all there as promised. Logs. Emails. Tampered entries. Deleted security videos showing someone else entering my office. I wasn’t just cleared—I had evidence.

I hugged Ethan and thanked him profusely, once again impressed and flattered by his chivalry.

I printed out the documents, heart racing, and made my way to Kingston’s office.

This was it. The moment I could finally be free of the weight pressing on my back for weeks.

But when I reached the executive level, my keycard didn’t work. The access panel beeped its denial for all to hear.

I frowned and tried again. Red light.

Then again. Still red.

The receptionist at the end of the hall pretended to be busy with her monitor. I approached her.

“Excuse me, has the access system been updated?”

She didn’t even look at me. “You’ll have to speak with security.”

“Can you just let me into Kingston’s office? I—”

“He’s not seeing anyone right now.”

The tone, the stiff smile, the sudden refusal to make eye contact—it all felt off.

And worse, every werewolf in the executive wing kept glancing at me and then quickly looking away. Some even smirked as if I were the punchline of some cruel joke. It was like everyone knew what was going on except for me.

I stepped back from the door, confusion churning in my stomach. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

Then my phone buzzed.

An internal memo appeared on my screen. It was a pre-transfer notice, sent to me and a few department heads.

I skimmed it, pulse thudding faster with every word.

Kingston had issued a transfer of departments. For me. The transfer would occur effective immediately, once a position in Sales opened up.

I stared at the screen, trying to process it all. My job… was being moved?

I blinked hard. Sales was a demotion, but in many ways, it was more public, more dynamic. A stepping stone for my career, if I were being rational.

But I wasn’t. Not now.

I felt discarded like an object being quietly shuffled to another shelf. Was this his way of pushing me out? Of punishing me?

I pulled up my text thread with Kingston and typed out a message, hands trembling.

“I work hard, I contribute—don’t treat me like something you can just erase.”

I hit send.

Message failed.

I froze. I tried again.

Blocked.

I stared at the screen, heart thudding in my ears.

He blocked me. He actually blocked me.

I clutched the folder in my hands, the evidence that had once felt like salvation now limp and useless. My throat burned with the injustice of it all. The betrayal. The confusion.

What had I done wrong? Why wouldn’t he even face me?

All I was certain of at that moment was the heavy, all-consuming ache in my chest, I hadn’t expected to feel at his betrayal.