<h4>Chapter 221: Chapter 221 The Ugly Truth</h4>


    Cecilia’s pov


    Then, her cheeks flushed crimson.


    "How dare you!" Amara hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "You don’t need to twist the knife, Cecilia. Fine, I’m not his favorite anymore. You got me fired so you could have him all to yourself. Enjoy your moment in the spotlight while itsts. Soon enough, you’ll be the ex too!"


    "Valid point," I agreed, nodding with exaggerated sincerity.


    That shut her up.


    She clearly hadn’t expected me to agree.


    She stood there, mouth slightly open, argument dying on her lips.


    With each interaction, I was bing increasingly convinced that Amara wasn’t the master maniptor I’d initially pegged her for.


    No clever schemes, no brilliant machinations.


    Throw a few verbal punches her way, and she crumbled.


    Her only real talent seemed to be a masterful ability to cry onmand.


    I almost felt sorry for her.


    "Look, Amara," I sighed, setting down my fork. "Maybe you need to stop defining yourself as ’the ex.’ The whole desperate, clingy routine is Dating 101’s biggest don’t. You need a new strategy. Stop dwelling on the past, and start reminding him why he fell for you in the first ce. That might actually work."


    Amara looked at me like I’d suggested she set herself on fire.


    "You’re cruel," she spat, eyes glistening with tears. "You’re absolutely cruel, Cecilia!"


    "I offered her my most innocent smile. ’How am I being cruel? I’m giving you advice because your current approach is getting you nowhere. Don’t shoot the messenger.’"


    "How could you possibly be helping me?" Amara demanded. "We’re rivals! You’re trying to take him from me!"


    "Who said I waspeting with you?"


    Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "What... what do you mean?"


    "Exactly what I said."


    Amara still looked lost, struggling to process my words. "But you and Sebastian... aren’t you dating? Don’t you want to mate with him and join his pack? We both love him, we both want him--why pretend otherwise with these mind games?"


    Well. At least she was being direct now.


    I didn’t answer immediately.


    Instead, I took my time finishing thest few bites of my pasta, twirling the noodles slowly around my fork.


    The silence stretched between us, thick and ufortable.


    She didn’t move.


    Didn’t blink.


    Just sat there, waiting--like I owed her a heart-to-heart.


    I set my fork down, the quiet clink louder than it should’ve been.


    Alright, fine. If she wanted honesty, I’d give it to her.


    No sugarcoating. No strategic pauses. Just the ugly truth.


    "I know Luna Regina called you back," I said tly, arms folded across my chest. "You’re just another piece on her chessboard, Amara. If you win, great--if you fail, she’ll just swap you out like a busted rook. So go back and tell her this: I have zero ns to date her precious son, much less pledge my soul to Silver Peak ."


    I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a mock-confidential whisper. "Sebastian and I? We’re just having fun. No strings, no vows, no pack oaths. So she can stop trying to sabotage us--because there’s nothing to break."


    Amara’s jaw dropped so hard I half expected it to hit the table.


    She stared at me like I’d just told her I moonlighted as a vampire stripper.


    "You’re..." she sputtered, blinking rapidly. "You’re just...ying with Sebastian?"


    I gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Now you know. So maybe stop painting me as the viin in whatever Game of Thrones episode you’ve got going in your head."


    She didn’t speak. Just sat there, stunned, her n clearly unraveling faster than a prom dress in a horror movie.


    Her eyes darted toward the window, as if hoping someone would burst in and save her from this plot twist.


    I stood, pushing my chair back with a scrape. "Dinner and drama. Guess we’re done here."


    As I stepped into the hallway, I nearly collided with Sawyer.


    He flinched like he’d been caught stealing thest slice of birthday cake.


    "Do...do youdies have enough pasta?" he blurted, eyes wide, forehead glistening with a nervous sheen.


    I raised a brow.


    "I made mine. If she’s hungry, she knows where the stove is," I said, brushing past him.


    But Sawyer’s arm shot out, barring my path.


    "Cecilia," he said, suddenly serious. His gaze locked on mine, and for once, there was no trace of his usual goofiness. "I have a favor to ask."


    "...Okay?"


    He shifted awkwardly, like he was about to confess to a felony. "I’m actually starving. That pasta smelled incredible. Think you could make me a te too?"


    I blinked. Thenughed. "Seriously? That’s what this is about?"


    He nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. And, uh... maybe with extra meat?"


    I held up a hand. "Say no more. Chef Cecilia’s got you."


    "Great!" he beamed. "I’ll just, uh, wait in the living room."


    He retreated so quickly I half-expected to see smoke trails behind him.


    I narrowed my eyes at his back. That couldn’t be the whole story...right?


    Still, I returned to the kitchen and made another te.


    When I came back out, Sawyer was already sprawled on the couch, fast asleep, one arm flung dramatically over his eyes like he’d fainted from hunger.


    I sighed, took the untouched bowl back into the kitchen, and turned off the lights.


    I passed the dining room and saw Amara still sitting at the table, frozen like a Louvre statue that had just realized it was no longer center stage.


    Outside, the sky had begun to pale, rain still whispering against the windows like it was trying to hush the chaos inside.


    I climbed the stairs, barefoot on cool wood.


    Back in bed, full and exhausted, I stared at the rain streaking the windows. I reyed what I’d said to Amara.


    Had it been the truth, or just spiteful words fueled by emotion?


    I couldn’t even tell anymore.


    Eventually, my turbulent thoughts gave way to fitful sleep...


    --


    When I finally woke up, it was already two in the afternoon.


    My head felt stuffed with cotton, and a heavy ache settled in my chest.


    It wasn’t fromck of sleep.


    It was the kind of fatigue thates from emotional overload.


    For a few dazed seconds, I justy there, staring at a ceiling I didn’t recognize, wondering if I’d sleepwalked into someone else’s life.


    It took several long minutes before I could even think about moving.


    I forced myself to get up, changed into clean clothes, and headed downstairs.


    Tang was syed out on the couch like a college student home for break, elbows deep in a chaotic video game battle.


    The moment he saw me, he lit up like someone had just handed him a second dessert.


    "Good afternoon, Cecilia!" he chirped. "We already had lunch. I was gonna wake you, but the boss said no one was allowed to disturb your beauty sleep."


    I gave a small nod, scanning the living room. "Is everyone else up? Where is...where are they?"


    "Sawyer’s upstairs packing the boss’s stuff," Tang said, not missing a beat with the controller.


    "Alpha went out for a walk in the garden. Jetg, maybe? He barely touched his breakfast."


    I rolled my eyes internally. When did Sebastian ever eat a full meal unless someone guilt-tripped him into it?


    "What about Amara?" I asked casually, watching his reaction.


    The name was like a detonation.


    Tang practically leapt off the couch, controller flying into a pillow.


    "Wait, she was here again? That woman’s like a bad penny. Always showing up when nobody wants her and acting like she owns the ce."


    He looked like he was about to march off and file aint with HR.


    I raised an eyebrow. So, Amara had already left. But Sawyer hadn’t said a word to Tang about herte-night visit. Interesting.


    Was he just trying to be discreet? Or was something else going on?


    Then I heard the voice. Calm, steady, and instantly recognizable.


    "Sleep well, Secretary Moore?"