"The ceiling installation needs to be raised another foot," I explained to the decorating committee. "The taller guests will be at risk of hitting the lower elements otherwise."

Five committee members nodded, making notes as I walked them through the adjustments to the Gala design. We stood in the center of the great hall, surrounded by half-installed decorations and workers on ladders.

"And the lighting cues need to be synchronized with the music changes," I continued, checking items off my list. "The amber wash should transition to blue exactly as the second musical set begins."

Mrs. Hartley, the committee chairwoman, smiled approvingly. "Luna, your attention to detail is remarkable. The Alpha's father will be proud of how you're handling your first major event."

"Thank you," I said softly. "I hope to bring pride to the whole pack with an exceptional—"

The double doors at the end of the hall swung open with unnecessary force. Raymond strode in, Giana clinging to his arm like an ornamental fixture. Conversations halted as pack members bowed their heads respectfully to their Alpha.

"Luna," Raymond called, his tone artificially pleasant for our audience. "I need a moment."

I maintained my composure, turning to Mrs. Hartley. "Please continue reviewing the placement chart. I'll return shortly."

The committee watched curiously as I approached Raymond and Giana. From the corner, I noticed Kane glance up from the security plans he'd been reviewing with his team.

"Let's speak privately," I suggested quietly.

Raymond's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Actually, I need to address the committee first. Everyone, thank you for your hard work, but I need the hall cleared for a brief discussion with my Luna."

The committee members exchanged uncertain glances before gathering their materials and filing out. Kane remained in his corner, seemingly absorbed in his paperwork but obviously listening.

Once the workers and committee had gone, Raymond's expression changed, his public mask dropping away.

"I have a request," he announced without preamble.

"A request," I repeated, already wary.

Raymond nudged Giana forward slightly. "The Mating Gala provides the perfect opportunity to officially clear Giana's rogue status and appoint her as Delta."

I stared at him, momentarily speechless. "And how exactly would that work?"

"Simple," Raymond said, as if explaining to a child. "You'll credit the Gala planning and organization to Giana. The event's success will demonstrate her capability and dedication to the pack."

A shocked laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Credit her? For work she hasn't done?"

Giana stepped forward, eyes downcast in a perfect performance of humility. "I know I haven't been as involved as I should have been, Aurora. I've been so overwhelmed adjusting to pack life after years as a rogue."

"You haven't been involved at all," I pointed out. "You haven't attended a single planning meeting."

Raymond's jaw tightened. "Giana has been providing input through me."

"Has she?" I asked skeptically. "Because you've shown minimal interest in the planning yourself."

"This appointment is important," Raymond insisted. "As Delta, Giana will have official standing in the pack hierarchy. Protection."

"Protection from what?" I challenged. "She already has your support as Alpha."

Giana clutched Raymond's arm, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears. "I told you she wouldn't understand. It's fine, Raymond. I don't care about titles or recognition." Her voice dropped to a wounded whisper. "I only want to be with you."

The manipulation was so transparent it was almost comical, yet Raymond fell for it completely, his expression softening as he covered her hand with his.

"You see?" he murmured. "This is why I love her. She doesn't care about status or power."

From his corner, Kane let out a loud, derisive laugh. We all turned to see him approaching, his expression one of amused disbelief.

"Seriously, Raymond?" he asked, gesturing between them. "This is the performance you've prepared?"

Raymond's face darkened. "This doesn't concern you, Kane."

"Doesn't it?" Kane countered, stopping beside me. "I've watched Aurora work tirelessly on this event for weeks. She's coordinated with seventeen different packs, balanced centuries-old rivalries in her seating arrangements, and personally reviewed every menu item for potential territorial disputes."

He turned to Giana, his smile sharp. "Meanwhile, you've attended exactly zero planning meetings and contributed exactly nothing beyond complaints about the color scheme."

Giana's tearful expression vanished, replaced by a flash of genuine anger before she controlled her features. "Raymond, are you going to let him speak to me this way?"

Raymond stepped forward, squaring off against Kane. "You're out of line. This is pack business—you're here as a guest, not a member of my pack."

"A guest who's apparently the only one willing to point out the obvious," Kane retorted. "This isn't about giving Giana protection. This is about legitimizing your relationship while Aurora does all the actual work."

The tension between them crackled, both men drawing themselves to their full height. For a moment, I thought they might actually come to blows. I quickly stepped between them.

"Enough," I said firmly. "Kane, please."

Kane's eyes met mine, his expression unreadable. Without another word, he stepped back, though the anger in his stance remained evident.

I turned to Raymond, keeping my voice measured. "The Gala is in three days. Announcing Giana as the organizer now would create confusion among the committee members who have been working with me."

"They'll follow their Alpha's lead," Raymond said dismissively.

"And the other packs?" I challenged. "Their Alphas and Lunas have been corresponding with me directly for weeks. What will they think of our pack leadership if we suddenly change our story?"

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Raymond's face, but Giana quickly placed her hand on his chest, reclaiming his attention.

"Raymond," she said softly, "I told you I don't need this. If it causes problems for the pack, I understand. I'll accept whatever role you think is best for me." She glanced at me with calculated sadness. "Even if it means remaining on the outside forever."

Raymond's expression had that stubborn set I knew too well.

"This is happening, Aurora," he stated. "I'm announcing Giana as Delta at the Gala, with credit for organizing the event. Make whatever arrangements necessary to smoothly transition the perception."

For a moment, I considered refusing outright. The humiliation of this demand, on top of everything else, was almost too much to bear. But I thought of my ailing mother, of my father's threats, of the political reality of my position.

"Fine," I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "I'll make the arrangements."

Kane inhaled sharply behind me.

Raymond nodded, satisfied. "Good. I'll expect a detailed transition plan by tomorrow morning."

He turned to leave, Giana still attached to his side. As they reached the door, she glanced back at me, and for the briefest moment, her mask slipped—revealing a flash of smug triumph that chilled me to the bone.

When they were gone, Kane rounded on me. "You can't be serious. You're actually going to let them take credit for your work?"

"I don't have a choice," I said tiredly.

"Of course you have a choice!" Kane's voice rose with frustration. "You could stand up for yourself. Tell the truth. Refuse to be their doormat for once!"

His words stung because they contained a kernel of truth I didn't want to face. "It's not that simple."

"It never is with you," Kane muttered, disgust evident in his tone. Without another word, he stormed out, leaving me alone in the cavernous hall. The decorations that had seemed so beautiful moments ago now felt like an elaborate monument to my own humiliation.

After allowing myself exactly one minute to wallow, I walked to the planning table. There was work to be done, regardless of who would receive the credit.

As I gathered my materials, something in the trash bin caught my eye—a flash of color. Reaching in, I pulled out the detailed planning documents I'd spent weeks creating, now crumpled into balls. Every page, every diagram, every carefully considered note—all discarded like garbage.

I smoothed one page on the table, my finger tracing the handwritten margin notes I'd made. This petty act of destruction was clearly Giana's doing—too spiteful for Raymond, who would simply have ignored the documents rather than deliberately destroying them.

The childishness of the gesture shouldn't have hurt, but it did. This wasn't just about taking credit—it was about erasing my contribution entirely, as if I were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle in their path.

I carefully retrieved each crumpled page, smoothing them as best I could.

As I straightened the last document, I couldn't ignore the hollow feeling expanding inside me. How many more humiliations would I endure? How many more times would I bend before I finally broke?

For now, I had no answer—only a hall to decorate, an event to coordinate, and a mask of dignified acceptance to maintain for three more days.