CHAPTER 48: _ BUSTED

Daphne, who is oblivious to all the tension, hums to herself while adjusting Heidi’s hair. "There we go. A little glam never killed anyone. Well, except maybe the insecure girls at school when they see you today."

Darien finally speaks. "I also need to get ready for the ceremony."

Heidi’s heart gives a stupid little jump, like some part of her is still waiting for him to redeem himself. But then he adds, "Daphne, find a way to get her to school. Make sure no one finds out she was here."

That does the very last job of shattering her heart into multiple tiny pieces.

He isn’t even looking at her as he refers to her like she’s a shitty little burden. He is managing her, the same way someone would manage paperwork. Confidential. Disposable. Forgettable.

Daphne nods easily. "Relax, brother. I’ve got you."

And with that, Darien turns and walks out, leaving the scent of his cologne behind him. That scent... the one that clung to her skin last night, the one she inhaled like it meant something now feels poisonous. She knows, with a bone-deep certainty, she will come to hate it for the rest of her life.

Heidi sits perfectly still while Daphne continues to fuss, brushing and pinning as though none of it matters. And maybe it doesn’t. Because inside, Heidi feels hollowed out, her heart is shattering silently in her chest.

He made her feel like nothing. Less than nothing. And what hurt the most isn’t his cruelty, it is the terrifying truth that she still wants him the same way she did overnight anyway.

.

.

In the end, Heidi is fully transformed.

She stares at the mirror as though the glass itself is lying to her, as though someone has swapped out her reflection for a stranger’s. The girl staring back at her has hair the color of melted butterscotch, soft waves spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of spun caramel. Her skin looks almost ethereal, kissed by just the right glow from Daphne’s mercilessly skilled hands. And the dress... oh, the dress.

It’s a deep emerald green, the kind of shade that seems designed solely to make her light skin glow like porcelain and to make her hair look even richer and alive. The fabric tightens in the right places, drapes in the right places, and then flares just enough at her waist to suggest elegance instead of suffocation.

Tiny jewels shimmer across the neckline, glittering whenever she so much as breathes. She looks like a queen. No, not just a queen... more like one of those untouchable celebrities Heidi used to see on magazine covers while waiting in line at the grocery store.

And that’s what makes her chest tighten in disbelief. Because never, not even when she was human, not even when she lived under her parents’ modest middle-class roof, did she look like this. Her mother had been practical, her father careful. Dresses were for Sunday service or weddings. Lip gloss was a treat, mascara an indulgence. Glamour wasn’t part of their lives.

But now... now Heidi looks like the kind of girl she used to secretly envy and resent.

"See?" Daphne says, stepping back with her hands on her hips, surveying her work like Michelangelo staring at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. "Told you. A little glam never killed anyone. Except, of course, all the insecure girls who are going to die on sight when they see you today."

Heidi almost laughs, except her throat is too tight. She blinks at herself, afraid that if she breathes too hard, she’ll wake up and the dress will dissolve into her usual jeans and sweater.

And then Daphne’s phone begins to shriek on the counter. She rolls her eyes, grabs it, and winces at the name flashing on the screen. "Ugh. Isolde. She’s blowing up my phone. We’re late for the ceremony."

Just like that, the moment is gone. Reality crashes back in. The ceremony. The mansion. Darien, Amias, Morgan, and Grayson... all of them.

"Come on, superstar." Daphne snatches her clutch bag and gestures toward the door. "We’ve got to go before she has a coronary."

And so, Heidi follows.

The bungalow door shuts behind them, and the air outside feels fresher. The sun has climbed higher, spilling golden light across the estate. The walkway between the bungalow and the main mansion stretches ahead. Heidi takes it in slowly, her heels clicking against the stone pathway.

It’s... surreal.

The mansion in the distance gleams like ivory and glass. The lawns are manicured so precisely that the grass looks painted. Servants bustle across the estate, some carrying trays of flowers, others holding bolts of fabric, others ferrying boxes of decorations. Everyone seems busy, like a hive of bees, and Heidi can’t help but wonder; just how rich is this family? Rich enough that luxury doesn’t even feel like luxury anymore. It feels like the air they breathe.

The silence between her and Daphne goes on awkwardly. Heidi doesn’t know what to say, what to do with her hands, whether she should keep looking around like a tourist or stare straight ahead like she belongs.

And then Daphne breaks the silence. "I know he’s lying," she says simply.

Heidi’s head snaps toward her, eyes wide. "What?"

Daphne smirks, not even looking at her, just striding gracefully in her own flowing dress. "Darien. I know he’s lying."

Heidi falters a step. Her pulse is leaping. "L-lying about what?"

"Oh, don’t play dumb." Daphne waves a hand.

Her tone is casual though her eyes glint like a cat’s. "I know you and Darien had sex."

The words are as unexpected as a summer snowfall. Heat rushes up her neck, flooding her cheeks. She opens her mouth, shuts it again, then blurts, "He... he said we didn’t."

"Mhm." Daphne finally glances at her, one brow arched so high it reaches the sky. "And are you going to lie to my face too, Heidi? Because that would be a very bad decision."

Heidi’s lips part, but no words come. The ground feels unsteady beneath her heels.

"There’s no use denying it," Daphne continues smoothly, as though this conversation isn’t threatening to send Heidi into cardiac arrest.

"See, I’m an empath werewolf. My gift isn’t just sniffing out emotions, it’s tasting them. Feeling them. And believe me, darling, the emotions I smelled on you two last night?" She fans herself dramatically. "Yeah. That was sex."

Oh, God. Darien was right, his sister is not a sweet girl. She’s damn scary.

Heidi stumbles over her words. "That... That doesn’t mean-"

Daphne waves a hand through the air as if she’s swatting away a fly. "Oh, please. He may have said that, but I don’t listen to words. I don’t have to."

Heidi freezes as every one of her muscles goes tight.

"Take Darien, for example, when he lies, he gives off this... acrid tang. Like burnt sugar left too long on the stove. Smells delicious at first, but then it curdles, gets bitter, makes your teeth ache." She wrinkles her nose dramatically. "That’s exactly what I caught when he denied touching you."

Heidi swallows but her throat is dry.

Daphne exhales softly through her nose. "And you... You smelled of satisfaction. Not the fake kind either. The real one. The kind that stays like candle wax melted into fabric—you can try to scrub it out, but it’s stubborn..." She gives an unwavering glare. "... It lingers."

Blood rushes to Heidi’s cheeks, making her feel naked under Daphne’s gaze.

"Right now?" Daphne tilts her head and inhales lightly. "You smell of panic and guilt—oh, that one’s strong. Guilt always smells like rain on concrete. Sharp. Cold. Ugly."

Heidi presses her lips together, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reply.

Daphne only laughs. "Don’t bother denying it. People hate empaths because we strip them bare. I’ve been ruining relationships since I was twelve just by breathing too close. You think you can hide from me? No, baby. You reek of him."

Heidi wants the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

Her hands clench at her sides, and she forces out, "You don’t understand. It... it just happened."

"Mhm." Daphne tilts her head, studying her like a specimen. "Funny thing, though. Darien never brings anyone here." She gestures vaguely back toward the bungalow they left behind. "This place? It was a gift from Father, a reward for some huge achievement my brother had made. You see, our Darien is like that. He gets things done. And that bungalow, Darien guards it like a dragon guards its hoard. I’ve never even been allowed to set foot inside—until today. And you know why I was allowed in? To dress you up. Because he wanted you dressed up."

Her words are sharper than they have any right to be. Heidi’s denial sits bitter on her tongue, but Daphne’s words gnaw at her chest. If even Darien’s sister can see through her, how long before everyone else does?

"That," Daphne says with a small, satisfied smile, "is suspicious. Very suspicious. Which makes me think this is more than just some fling, and more than some investigative assignment."

Heidi forces her face blank, but her pulse is betraying her, beating against her throat. What if she can smell it? What if one wrong twitch of her heart leaks out the real truth, the one that would ruin her before this ceremony even begins?