Free Web NovelChapter 103: Chapter 103 Club Dance
Sylvia’s POV
As soon as I stepped out of my mother’s office, I didn’t stop to breathe—I just headed straight for the parking garage and slid into my car like I was trying to outrun the whole damn day.
The second the engine roared to life, I gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, my knuckles turning bone-white.
Concrete and steel blurred past as I pulled out of the Howling Peaks corporate lot, but no amount of speed could shake the heaviness sitting on my chest.
Then came the red light. Of course.
I slammed the brakes harder than I needed to, and the car jerked to a stop.
The silence inside the cabin was deafening.
That’s when the replay started—the one scene I couldn’t get out of my head, like a scratched-up record looping the same line over and over.
The boardroom had smelled like cold stone and judgment.
My mother sat at the head of the table, the Frostline seal gleaming behind her like a brand.
Selene stood beside her, arms crossed, expression as unreadable as always—but her eyes sparkled with that quiet, self-righteous satisfaction she wore so well.
I stood alone, flanked by silence, under the weight of their scrutiny.
"You’ve jeopardized the entire Vertex project," my mother said, her voice like frost sliding over glass—controlled, sharp, and final.
"Do you have any idea how much damage this has done to our reputation?" sheadded, not missing a beat. "Even I am questioning your leadership."
I stared blankly at the light as my wolf stirred inside me, uneasy.
She let out a soft, frustrated whine, a low sound only I could feel. She didn’t like this.
Neither did I.
But what exactly was I feeling?
Disappointment?
No, that word was too small. Too clean.
I’d seen this coming for months—hell, maybe years. So why did it still hit like a punch to the ribs? Why did it feel like I’d swallowed broken glass?
"Seriously, Sylvia?" I muttered to myself, jaw clenched. "You’re surprised? After everything?"
I tried to shove the emotion down, bury it where I’d buried everything else since the day I realized being her daughter meant nothing if you weren’t her favorite.
But no matter how hard I tried to rationalize it, the truth was sharp and bitter:
It hurt. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
It hurt more than I wanted to admit.
Because blood is supposed to mean something.
Family is supposed to mean something.
But Mom—Alpha Astra Frost—had made her choice. Loud and clear.
Before I could stop myself, I was calling Morgana.
"Hey, sweetie, what’s up?" she answered immediately.
"Are you busy?" I tried keeping my voice steady.
"Of course not!"
I could almost picture her frantically waving off whoever was with her.
That was Morgana - always dropping everything when I called.
My lips curved into a small smile despite myself.
"Want to grab drinks?" I asked, forcing lightness into my tone.
"Hell yes! The usual spot?"
"Perfect. See you there."
When I arrived at Eclipse, the most exclusive werewolf club in Howling Peaks, Morgana was already waiting outside, looking stunning in a curve-hugging dress that would make any Alpha do a double-take.
The moment she saw me, her face lit up.
I walked straight into her open arms, breathing in her familiar scent.
"Whoa," she laughed, hugging me tight. "My big baby is feeling cuddly today! Who do I need to tear apart for you, hmm?" Despite her playful tone, I could feel her concern. freeweɓnøvel.com
That was the thing about Morgana - she knew me better than almost anyone.
She knew I didn’t break easily. Something major had to happen for me to seek comfort this way.
"The usual suspect," I mumbled against her shoulder. "Mother dearest."
We settled at our regular booth, and the bartender immediately brought over our preferred poison - straight whiskey for me, something fruity but deadly for Morgana.
"What did Alpha Astra do this time? Still playing favorites?" Morgana asked, her eyes narrowing.
I took a long swallow of my drink, feeling it burn all the way down, and told her everything.
The company contract. My countless hours securing it. Mother’s public dismissal of my work.
Morgana’s eyes flashed a. "If I had been there, Sylvia... Goddess above, I would have challenged her decision right there! That project was yours! What more does she want from you?"
I shook my head and downed another shot. "It doesn’t matter what she wants. She knew exactly how hard I worked for this. She knew, and she did it anyway."
The alcohol was beginning to burn away the pain, replacing it with a comforting numbness.
"Slow down there," Morgana warned as I reached for the bottle again. "You’re drinking like you used to... before."
I leaned closer, my brow furrowed. "What did you say?"
"Nothing." But her eyes held a mix of concern and... was that pride? "Just... don’t think too much about your mother right now, okay? She doesn’t deserve your tears."
I didn’t reply, just poured another drink.
Morgana sighed and grabbed her own glass. "If you’re determined to drown your sorrows, at least let me join you. Sisters shouldn’t drink alone."
Two hours and several drinks later, we were both significantly less coordinated but infinitely more honest.
"You know," Morgana slurred, leaning heavily against me, "you can tell me anything. Anything at all. I’m like... a vault. The most secure vault in all the territories."
I raised a brow, amused. "You sure about that?"
"Absolutely!" she declared, suddenly springing upright—though she swayed like a tree in the wind. "Come on! Let’s dance!"
Before I could protest, she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the dance floor.
"I need to feel alive, Sivi! And so do you!"
The music hit us like a wave—thick, pulsing, impossible to ignore.
It wrapped around my body, around my thoughts, drowning out everything else.
So I let it.
I let go.
My body moved before my mind could catch up, hips swaying, arms lifting, feet finding the rhythm like they’d been waiting for this moment.
I closed my eyes and let the beat carry me—away from Alpha Astra’s cold stare, away from Selene’s smug little smile, away from the suffocating weight of expectations I never asked for.
Around us, the crowd shifted.
Dancers pulled back, giving us space—no, giving us attention.
I could feel it.
The heat of their eyes.
The scent of curiosity, admiration, even a flicker of envy.
