Chapter 2: A Birthday Turned Nightmare

[Margaret’s POV] I checked my reflection once more, smoothing out my makeup and adding a final touch of lip gloss. “Margaret, I still can’t find my shoes!” Elizabeth burst into my room unannounced, as she always did. “Can’t you just wear a different pair?” I sighed, already tired of the conversation. “But those are my favorite ones! They match my dress perfectly. Without them, my whole outfit will be ruined,” Elizabeth whined, already rummaging through my belongings. “They’re not here.” “I’ll just take a look for myself.” “Elizabeth, stop it. You’re messing up my things!” I protested, irritation bubbling to the surface. She ignored me, as usual. I hated how powerless I felt around her. I hated how, despite my resentment, I always gave in. “Oh, you have a pair of pink shoes here,” she muttered. “If you want them, take them,” I said with resignation, hoping she would leave my room quickly. Elizabeth held up the shoes, inspecting them critically before sliding them onto her feet. “The heels are so low,” she complained, walking around the room. “These are my only high heels,” I replied evenly. Armstrong had given me those shoes on my last birthday. He had told me they suited me perfectly. But what did that matter now? If Elizabeth wanted something, she would find a way to get it. My feelings had never mattered to her. Elizabeth looked down at my flats and smirked. She said nothing more, simply slipping on the shoes and admiring her reflection. “They can’t be more than an inch high. I never wear anything below three inches. These won’t make my calves look as slender,” she grumbled, walking around as if testing them out. “And now my breasts don’t look as full either. This is all your fault.” I ignored her and picked up my phone to text Armstrong. [How are the preparations coming along?] [Almost done. The ‘princess’ is wearing the shoes you gave me.] ‘Princess’ was the nickname Armstrong and I used for Elizabeth. We both shared a dislike for her. She, with her perfect golden curls, blue eyes, and carefully curated beauty, had always been the center of attention. Elizabeth loved bold, flashy outfits and sky-high heels that caught every boy’s eye. She dressed like a fairytale princess come to life. [I’ll get you something better. Today is your big day. Be happy. Love you.] [I love you too.] Armstrong’s steady, unwavering presence always calmed me. He was my safe place, my constant support. After much delay, Elizabeth and I finally set off. The difference in our heights was stark—she already stood taller than me, and with my flats and her borrowed heels, she towered over me. It was an uncomfortable reminder of how little I stood out next to her. When we arrived at the grounds, a large crowd of werewolves had gathered. In the distance, I spotted Armstrong. “Mate…” I heard him whisper. A thrill ran through me. I had never seen him look at me like this before. His eyes burned with intensity, filled with an undeniable desire. He was staring at me as if I was the only person in the world. He was walking toward me, step by step, his gaze locked onto mine. My breath caught in my throat. Was he about to declare that I was his mate in front of everyone? My heart pounded in anticipation. But then… He walked right past me. In front of the entire pack, Armstrong strode to Elizabeth, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her deeply. I felt like I had been struck by lightning. The world blurred. My body turned cold. He was only two steps away from me, yet it felt like we were worlds apart. When he pulled away, he looked around at the pack and made the announcement that shattered me completely. “Elizabeth is my fated mate. She will be the Luna of the pack.” The crowd erupted into cheers. I couldn’t process what I was hearing, what I was seeing. Armstrong—my Armstrong—had promised me that I would be his Luna. Was it all a lie? Had I just been fooling myself this entire time? I felt like a fool. I had never been anything more than a side character in my own story, a background figure to Elizabeth’s perfect life. I stared at her as she basked in the attention, happiness radiating from her. Then she turned to me and smiled—a smile of triumph. I had never felt so alone.