CHAPTER 273: THE ONLY ONE SHE COULD TRUST

~**Third Person**~

Wanda’s jaw tightened. "If they think I will leave quietly, then they don’t really know who I am."

Her voice was low, venomous, but steady.

She turned away from the shards, her eyes burning with a new resolve that tasted bitter in her mouth.

Wanda had just begun to steady her breathing, forcing herself to calm down, when a sharp knock sounded on her door.

Her nostrils flared, then she stormed across the room, yanked the door open with insults curling on her tongue—

Only to freeze when she saw Dennis leaning against the frame, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Her fingers twitched with the sudden urge to wipe that smug expression off his face.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her voice edged with venom.

Dennis’s eyes glittered with a calm, almost mocking patience. "I’m here for all the credit and access cards in my brother’s name. And your Duskmoor ID card."

Wanda’s jaw dropped slightly before tightening. She gripped the door, ready to slam it in his face, but Dennis casually planted a palm against it and pushed, forcing the door wider. His smirk vanished, replaced with a dark frown.

"End your bullshit, Wanda," he said flatly. "I don’t have time to waste on you."

Her chest rose and fell heavily, fury pulsing through her veins. "You might be glad that I’m leaving," she spat, glaring at him, "but don’t forget—I’ve been very important to this team. Especially when it comes to dealing with humans."

Dennis tilted his head, pretending to consider her words, his expression momentarily thoughtful. Then he nodded, lips curving in feigned agreement. "You’re right," he admitted, voice smooth as silk.

For a moment, Wanda’s pride flared—until he finished.

"But your importance to the team shouldn’t come at the cost of loyalty."

Her breathing hitched. Heat flushed her face, though she couldn’t tell if it was anger or shame.

Dennis didn’t wait for her reply. He simply extended his hand, palm up, his expression firm. "The cards, Wanda."

Her nails bit into her palms, but she had no choice. With a sharp turn, she stalked back into the room, her steps echoing against the floor.

She entered her walk-in closet, walls lined with shelves of fine leather shoes, racks of luxurious gowns, glass cases gleaming with jewelry. At the far corner, she crouched before a safe, spun the lock, and pulled it open.

Stacks of cash lay neatly inside, a testament to her status, her privileges—but none of it mattered now.

She grabbed the cards Jeffery had demanded earlier, along with her Duskmoor ID, and marched back to Dennis.

"Here," she hissed, thrusting them into his hand.

Dennis took them without ceremony, tucking them into his pocket. His gaze didn’t linger on her face, but his words cut just as sharply.

"Draven said you should be present at the dining hall for dinner. On time."

He turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. Glancing back over his shoulder, his voice carried a note of cold amusement.

"And Wanda..." His eyes flicked toward her closet before locking on hers. "You’d better start packing early. Looks like you’ve got a lot of dresses to haul back to Stormveil."

The smirk returned, sharp as a blade, before he walked off without another word.

Wanda’s entire body trembled with fury. She stood rooted in place, staring at the retreating line of his back. Her teeth ground together, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles whitened.

"Bastard," she whispered under her breath, her heart pounding. She knew—this was just one of Dennis’s petty ways of taking revenge.

---

Wanda paced in her room, fury and humiliation tightening around her chest like a vice.

What made it worse—what burned inside her—was Draven’s command that she still appear for dinner. To sit at that table, knowing everyone would see her for what she had become: a discarded, unwanted traitor.

Her throat tightened. She needed someone—anyone—to speak to. Someone who could understand.

Her eyes flicked to her phone on the bedside table. With trembling fingers, she grabbed it and scrolled quickly, her heart pounding until she found the name she sought. Levi—her brother.

He was the only one she could trust.

She pressed the call button. When he answered, she didn’t even give him the chance to greet her properly before her voice cracked, breaking into sobs.

"Levi—Levi, it’s over! Draven knows—he knows everything! He found out about what I told Father—and he’s sending me back to Stormveil tomorrow."

Her words tumbled out in choked fragments as tears spilled down her cheeks. "He doesn’t want me anymore. He hates me!"

"Wanda, calm down," Levi’s voice was steady but laced with concern. "Tell me exactly what happened."

She clutched the phone tighter, crying harder. "He confronted me. He—he said I betrayed him. He told Dennis and Jeffery everything, Levi! I’m sure everyone knows! I begged him, but he—he won’t forgive me. I’m ruined."

"Wanda..." Levi exhaled slowly. "This... this is Father’s fault. He was impatient. He forced your hand, and now it’s you paying the price."

Her sobs quieted into shaky breaths. "Yes," she whispered. "He ruined everything. He destroyed me."

But then, a sudden thought gripped her. Her chest went cold, her breath stuttered. Dread seeped into her veins like poison.

"Levi..." her voice shook, barely above a whisper. "If I go back... if I return to Stormveil like this..."

She swallowed hard, terror rising in her eyes. "Father will kill me. He wil say I failed him—he will blame me for everything even though it was his fault!"

Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the bed, clutching the phone like a lifeline. Tears streamed again, and she cried harder than before.

"I don’t want to die, Levi! Please—you’re the only one who can save me from him." Her voice was desperate, frantic. "Promise me you’ll be back home before I arrive. Please! Don’t leave me alone with him."

There was silence for a long moment, then Levi’s firm, reassuring voice came through the line. "I’ll be there, Wanda. I promise. Stop crying. I’ll be waiting when you return."

Her sobs softened into hiccups, relief mingling with her fear. But as she clung to that small comfort, she forced herself to try one last time.

"Levi... please—help me beg Draven. He listens to you. Maybe if you speak to him—"

"No," Levi cut in gently but firmly. "Not now. He’s still furious. Speaking to him now will only make things worse."

"But—" she began, her voice trembling.

"I said no." His tone brooked no argument, though it wasn’t harsh. "Let him cool down. When you return to Stormveil, I’ll call him. Then, maybe, there’ll be a chance to soften things. Until then, endure it."

Her shoulders slumped. She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Okay... okay, Levi. Thank you."

"You will be fine," Levi reassured her quietly. "I will handle things."

"Thank you," Wanda whispered again, though her heart still quaked with unease. Ending the call, she set the phone down, curling onto her bed, her face damp with tears.

For now, Levi’s promise was all she had.

But the thought of walking into that dining hall tonight, under all their gazes, felt like another death sentence.