He barged into the kitchen, fury written all over his face. His angry eyes flicked from me to Phyllis, then to the plate of food in front of me.
“And you, Phyllis! Why are you giving her wine and a good meal? She doesn’t deserve anything close to kindness!”
Louise's POV
I tipped the wineglass and drained its final drop, placing it back down with a soft clink. My fingers quivered as I released it.
"She's still your flesh and blood, Alpha Derick," Phyllis declared, rising in my defense. If I hadn’t personally witnessed his hesitation before, I might’ve made the mistake of thinking his concern was genuine. "She looks frail—barely holding herself up. She needs proper nourishment. The council even acknowledged there were inconsistencies in the case. There’s still a chance she didn’t take Chelsea… or end her life."
My father’s fury exploded like wildfire. "You can buy the illusion of truth with enough silver!" he snapped, his voice sharp and venomous. "Louise can spin all the lies she wants, but reality always claws its way to the surface! And it has! I’m sickened—utterly disgusted to be the father of someone who could kill her own sister!"
The way his glare seared into me felt like a knife slicing straight through my chest.
"I want you gone from my presence!" he roared, jabbing a finger toward the doorway like it was a weapon. "Get out, you filthy murderer!"
My throat tightened with emotion, but I refused to let myself cry. I forced my chin up, keeping my gaze fixed on him with as much strength as I could muster.
"Alpha—"
Phyllis tried again, but I cut him off before he could say more.
"You don’t have to stand up for me, Phyllis. I’ll follow his orders."
Without looking back, I turned and exited the room.
Phyllis remained behind.
When I stepped into what used to be my bedroom, I came to a halt. My mother was seated on the edge of the bed, her back stiff and her expression unreadable.
She stood as soon as she noticed me.
"This room no longer belongs to you," she said coldly. "It’s not appropriate. A servant will handle your belongings and move them to a more… suitable space."
I parted my lips, instinctively wanting to call her Mom—but I hesitated. Her earlier declaration echoed in my mind. She didn’t want that title from me anymore.
"Alright," I whispered quietly.
She strode toward the door, pausing just before she crossed the threshold.