Lauren’s POV
I don’t think anyone really expects to attend their own funeral. But if you ever find yourself in that awkward position, let me give you a heads-up: faking your death is messy business.
People cry—but not as many as you’d hope. Most are just there for the drama. And if your death is as scandalous as mine? Well, brace yourself for the gossip.
I tugged my hood lower, my nails curling into the fabric as I tried to block out their whispers. Rain drizzled down, warm and sticky against my skin, adding to the suffocating heaviness in the air.
Grief and curiosity mingled like oil and water, turning the funeral into a warped kind of spectacle.
The Midnight Orchid Pack didn’t do tragedy quietly. The entire pack had turned up, dressed in sleek black as if mourning was some kind of fashion show. I wondered how many of them were here to grieve and how many just wanted to gawk at the former Luna’s coffin being lowered into the ground.
“They say she died during childbirth,” someone whispered just ahead of me, their voice carrying through the humid air.
Another chimed in, a little too loudly. “Maybe it’s because she cheated and got pregnant. What if the Alpha found out? That would explain—”
“Shh! You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” someone else hissed as if they were the moral compass of the funeral. Not that it stopped the gossip. It never did.
I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to stay still, invisible. My nails dug into my palms under my cloak. If I wasn’t careful, I’d let something slip—a gasp, a snort, maybe even a sharp retort—and ruin the whole charade.
Instead, I focused on the coffin. My coffin.
The dark wood gleamed in the rain, every flower-draped across it wilting under the weight of the weather. They really went all out, didn’t they? Like they were trying to overcompensate for something.
Maybe they were.
If anyone noticed the figure standing quietly in the shadows, they didn’t say anything. Just as well. I didn’t plan on sticking around longer than necessary.
“They’re not even trying to hide their glee,” I muttered under my breath, glancing sideways at Liam. He stood a step behind me, silent and steady as always, his icy blue eyes scanning the crowd.
“Focus,” he said quietly, not bothering to hide his smirk. “You’re supposed to be dead, remember?”
“Oh, don’t remind me,” I replied, pulling my hood tighter. The rain dripped off the edges, sliding down my fingers. “I thought death was supposed to be peaceful. Not… this.”
My gaze shifted to the front of the crowd, where the pack’s elders stood in a grim line, their heads bowed in something that looked like respect but felt hollow. And then there was the glaring absence that made my stomach twist in knots.
Alexander.
The Alpha hadn’t even shown up to bury me. Couldn’t spare the time to stand before the grave of the woman he’d once vowed to cherish.
“Typical,” I muttered bitterly. “He really does wish I were dead. This just makes it easier for him, doesn’t it? Now he can marry Sophia, and no one will bat an eye.”
Liam tilted his head, his voice soft but laced with steel. “Are you sure you’re ready to walk away from all this?”
For a moment, I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed locked on the grave as the coffin was lowered further into the ground. The whispers buzzed like flies around me, but I forced myself to breathe through the suffocating weight of it all.
My name, etched into the gravestone, glistened under the rain.
Lauren.
We waited a moment together, letting the crowd disperse a bit before I left his side.
“Yes,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “There’s nothing left for me here.”
I placed the bouquet of flowers gently over my own grave, careful not to let my shaking fingers betray me. Some watched me curiously, but I kept my head low.
Without looking back, I turned away from my grave, my steps steady and unyielding. The rain clung to me like a second skin, but I welcomed it. It was better than the weight of their stares on my corpse, their judgments, their lies.
This wasn’t my home anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time.
Five Years Later
The bustling noise of the airport was a stark contrast to the oppressive silence of that funeral years ago. My heels clicked softly against the polished floor as I carried Abigail, her tiny arms wrapped around my neck.
“Mommy, is this the place you lived before me?” she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity, her rosy cheeks puffed in thought.
I kissed the top of her head and adjusted her weight on my hip. “It is, baby. This is where Mommy’s story began.”
It felt surreal, stepping foot in this city again after all this time. The memories were everywhere—some bitter, some sweet, and most of them haunting.
Five years ago, I’d barely escaped with my life. If it weren’t for Liam, I wouldn’t have. I glanced at Abigail, her curly hair bouncing with each step, and my heart swelled with love and gratitude.
She was my miracle.
The day I “died” was a blur of pain and betrayal. After Alexander had ordered my execution—I’d been left for dead. But fate had intervened. The nurse handling my “body” had crossed paths with Liam, the youngest son of the Alpha King.
He’d saved me, whisking me away from the pack’s borders before anyone could realize I was still alive.
Unbeknownst to Alexander, I’d been pregnant with twins. One hadn’t survived, a loss that still lingered in the quiet moments of the night. But Abigail had lived, and she was my light in the darkness.
“Lauren! Over here!”
A familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts. Daphne stood near the terminal’s exit, waving enthusiastically. Her blonde curls bounced as she rushed toward us, her smile as bright as ever.
“Daphne!” I greeted warmly.
Abigail giggled as Daphne scooped her up from my arms, spinning her around playfully. “Look at you, Abby! You’ve grown so much! And you’re even cuter than I remember.”
Abigail laughed, her delight infectious. Daphne had always been my closest friend, one of the few who had stood by me through everything. Seeing her now felt like a piece of home I hadn’t realized I missed.
That evening, as the sky faded into hues of orange and pink, Abigail curled up in bed, her tiny frame snug beneath the covers. I sat beside her, brushing a stray curl from her forehead.
“Mommy,” she murmured sleepily, her voice barely above a whisper, “did we come back to find Daddy?”
Her innocent question felt like a dagger to my heart. My hand stilled, the weight of her words pressing down on me.
“No, sweetheart,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “We came back because Mommy had some things to take care of. That’s all.”
Abigail’s eyes fluttered closed, and within moments, her breathing evened out. I stayed there for a while, watching her sleep, my thoughts a whirlwind of emotions.
Behind me, Daphne cleared her throat gently. I turned to find her leaning against the doorway, her expression cautious, swiping a blonde curl behind her ear.
“You’re going to have to face him eventually,” she said, her tone careful but insistent. “Coming back here, it’s bound to happen.”
“Maybe,” I said firmly, standing and pulling the blanket up around Abigail’s shoulders. “But I don’t want him to know about her. The moment he decided to kill them, he lost any right to be her father.”
Daphne’s eyes softened, but she didn’t back down. “Lauren, I get it. Believe me, I do. But things might not be as simple as you think. I’ve heard… things.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of things?”
She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip before finally speaking. “Alexander has a son now. With Sophia.”
The words hit me like a slap, but I refused to let it show.
My jaw tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. “Good for him,” I said, my tone cold.
“Lauren,” Daphne pressed, stepping closer. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but—”
“But nothing,” I interrupted sharply, struggling to hold my voice soft. “Whatever he does with his life is none of my concern. My only priority is Abigail.”
Daphne sighed, clearly wanting to say more, but she let it drop. “Fine. Just… promise me you’ll be careful, okay? This city isn’t exactly known for its clean slates.”
I nodded, though my mind was already spinning.
Returning to this place had been a calculated risk, one I’d thought I was prepared for. But now, standing on the precipice of my past, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
One thing was certain, though. No matter what, I would protect Abigail. Alexander would never hurt her the way he’d hurt me.
And if I had to face him again, I would make sure of it.
