CHAPTER 272: NEVER HER FRIEND

Meredith.

"Because even the strongest mask eventually cracks," Valmora answered. "We do not always see what festers beneath the surface. Maybe she believed betrayal was her last weapon—her only option left at the time."

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temples. "Either way, she’s leaving. And I can’t deny it, Valmora... I feel lighter. She’s been a thorn in my flesh from the very beginning. Knowing she won’t be here anymore—it makes me feel like I can finally breathe."

There was a pause, then Valmora’s voice, sharper this time: "Do not be too quick to celebrate. She may be gone from under this roof, but that does not mean she will cease to be an enemy. Sometimes, the threats we cannot see are the most dangerous."

I bit my lip, chewing on the truth of that. "I know. But just for now... let me be glad she’s gone. Just for a little while, I want to know what it feels like to enjoy peace—even if Gary and Mabel are still here."

Valmora’s tone softened. "Peace is never without a price. Wanda was a strong competitor, Meredith. She balanced the equation in ways your siblings would never. With her gone, the weight shifts onto you. You will have to train harder. You will have to grow stronger."

I nodded to myself, determination hardening in my chest. "Then I will do it. I will train and grow stronger. But for the rest of today, I will allow myself to feel relieved."

---

~**Third Person**~

After Jeffery escorted Wanda out of Draven’s bedroom, he walked silently at her side, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, every line of his body composed in that controlled, disciplined way that never cracked.

They climbed the staircase to the second floor, neither speaking, though Wanda’s shallow breaths betrayed her turmoil.

When they reached the corridor of the rooms, Jeffery stopped before the polished oak door that led into hers.

"Here," he said, his tone as neutral as stone.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around the hem of her dress. She sniffed once, then turned slowly to face him.

Her lashes fluttered as if to hide the sheen in her eyes, and a faint tear threatened to escape.

"Why did you and Dennis stand there, watching him strip me of everything, and yet... no one of you asked any questions?"

Jeffery’s expression didn’t change. His dark eyes studied her with a level calm that felt colder than anger. "I will ask one, then. Why did you do it?"

Her throat bobbed. For a heartbeat, it looked as though she might tell him. But Wanda blinked, drew in a shaky breath, and stiffened her spine.

"I don’t owe you any explanation," she said, the edge of her pride sharpening her words.

Jeffery inclined his head, unbothered. "Then we are finished."

But Wanda’s desperation cracked through. Her hand shot out, not touching him but hovering near his arm as she pleaded,

"If you ever saw me as a friend, help me. Speak to Draven for me. Tell him I’ve learned my lesson, that I will never repeat this mistake."

Jeffery’s answer came swiftly, his voice calm but cutting like a blade drawn across silk. "Unfortunately, Wanda, I was never your friend."

Her breath caught, her lips parting as though he had struck her.

He continued, his tone even, merciless in its truth. "You never treated me as one. To you, I was always just Draven’s Beta—useful when it suited you, invisible when it didn’t. Friendship is built on respect. You gave me none."

The words lingered between them like smoke. For the first time between them, Wanda had no retort ready.

Jeffery turned away, his boots clicking softly against the polished floor as he strode down the corridor without another glance.

Left standing before her door, Wanda’s fists clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms. Her jaw trembled as fury burned hot in her chest.

’What right does he have...?’ she thought viciously. ’He’s just an ordinary Beta. A shadow living in Draven’s light. Who is he to dismiss me?’

Her anger carried her through the door. She shoved it open, stepped inside, and slammed it behind her so hard the frame rattled.

Wanda’s breath finally broke into ragged bursts. She stood in the middle of her room, trembling, her nails digging crescents into her palms.

Jeffery’s words replayed over and over, his calm rejection slicing deeper than if he had shouted.

Her eyes fell on the mirror above her dresser. The reflection staring back at her looked pitiful—red eyes, lips trembling, hair slightly undone. A weak, broken woman.

"No..." she whispered, her voice shaking with fury. "I’m not weak. I’m not!"

Before the thought even finished, she snatched up the silver brush from the dresser and hurled it straight at the glass. The mirror shattered in an explosive crack, shards raining down across the wooden floor.

Her chest heaved, and tears burned in her eyes—not of sorrow, but humiliation.

She grabbed the nearest pillow from her bed and flung it across the room, then another, then swept the rest of them to the floor with both arms.

A porcelain vase toppled from the nightstand, smashing into jagged pieces. The sight of the destruction only fed her rage.

"An ordinary Beta," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom as she recalled Jeffery’s words. "How dare he? How dare any of them treat me this way?"

Her fists shook at her sides as she kicked one of the fallen pillows across the room.

She had given years—years of loyalty, of effort, of sacrifices—for Draven, only to be discarded like garbage because of one mistake.

She pressed the heel of her palm to her temple, squeezing her eyes shut. "He can’t do this to me... He won’t. He is probably blinded by anger."

Silence filled the room, broken only by her uneven breathing. Slowly, Wanda straightened, her chest rising and falling.

Her reflection now stared back at her from the broken shards scattered on the floor, fractured into dozens of tiny, jagged pieces. Each shard seemed to sneer at her.