Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Unwilling and dreading it, I follow Hannah to the conference room on the far side of Merrick’s office building, the borrowed laptop tucked under my arm. She leaves me at the door, and my hand trembles as I press the handle.
Paul sits with his back to the door—who does that in a shifter building? Just seeing him makes me itch. Has he never heard of predators?
Even with the band’s magic dulling my senses, I can smell his emotions: anxiety, anger, and something sour. It’s strange—these scents are tied to his feelings, but I understand them instinctively, without conscious thought.
He is practically vibrating, a bundle of nervous energy barely contained. Whether he’s angry at me, the situation, or the inconvenience of being kept waiting, I can’t say.
To his left sits a broad, bald man whose face practically screams ‘divorce solicitor.’ To his right, leaning against him as though she needs support, is a woman who is all too familiar. Her dark, glossy hair is styled in perfect, voluminous curls. She seems thinner than when I last saw her—but then again, last time, she was naked and bouncing around.
Dove.
Of course he brought my sister.
My stomach twists into a painful knot, disbelief burning inside me. I realise my fingers are gripping the hem of my jumper. Today was already going to be hard enough, but this? This is a whole new level of insult.
They came together. To finalise our divorce.
I force myself over the threshold and hug the wall, keeping as much distance between us as possible. My movements are deliberate as I prowl around the conference table, each step heavier than the last, before finally settling in a seat opposite Paul.
Neither of them recognises me.
Paul glances up, his gaze skimming over my face. He dismisses me with a sneer—just another shifter, nothing more. Dove, on the other hand, gives me a once-over, her eyes narrowing as though I’m competition. She inches closer to Paul, resting a manicured hand on his arm in a possessive gesture.
I want to laugh. Really? This man isn’t a prize. A husband who cheats on his wife with her sister isn’t worth fighting over.
The laptop beside me feels like an anchor. If I could dream of the perfect scenario, this might make my top ten—a chance to observe them without pretence or pity, without their emotions clouding my judgement.
Paul looks terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, unkempt hair, and the beginnings of a beard. For a brief moment, I almost pity him, but then I catch sight of Dove again, and that shred of compassion vanishes.
I only now notice the three guards stationed in the room, one of them the smirking blond who seems far too eager for a show. Blondie leans against the wall, arms folded, radiating amused anticipation. He wants me to lose control.
I roll my eyes and pour myself a glass of water. The crystal facets catch the light as I twist the glass, the whirlpool of liquid reflecting the storm brewing inside me. It also gives me eight little versions of an angry Paul.
“When am I going to see my wife?” Paul demands to the silent room, slamming his palm on the table. His voice is hoarse, like he’s been shouting or recovering from a cold.
I set the glass down with deliberate care and lean forward, about to speak, when the door opens.
Merrick strides in with the effortless authority of someone who knows the room belongs to him. His presence changes the air, sharpens it. Paul stiffens; Dove straightens, flicking her hair and offering a nervous giggle.
The thing inside me stirs, and I fight the ridiculous urge to snarl. Dove can cling to Paul all she likes, but the moment her eyes flick towards Merrick, something primal in me flares to life.
Don’t you dare look at him, you cow .
Barry, my shifter solicitor, follows Merrick in, his arms laden with files. “Apologies for the delay. I had to complete some additional revisions pertaining to this case,” he says, offering me a warm smile as he takes the seat beside me. “Good morning. Nasty business with the bite. How are you holding up?”
“I’m managing,” I reply, glancing at the black sensory band on my wrist.
“Good to see you have got a band. That’ll help immensely. Let’s get this done quickly.” He pats the stack of files, then leans back with a reassuring nod.
Merrick unbuttons his jacket and sits at the head of the table. He pours himself a glass of water, then regards Paul with cool detachment.
“Mr Emerson.”
“Who the hell are you?” Paul snaps, his tone sharp enough to make the bodyguards twitch. Barry and the other solicitor wince.
Merrick does not bother answering. Instead, he flicks open the top folder and says, “What can I do for you, Mr Emerson?”
Paul slams his hand on the table again. “I’m here to get my wife!”
Merrick tilts his head, voice dangerously calm. “Are you now? Did you lose her?”
“Don’t play games, you filthy beast,” Paul snarls. “I told you on the phone—we had a disagreement, and now she’s taken a job with the Ministry. I want to talk to her. I want her to come home. Whatever contract she has with you animals is null and void. She’s human. She doesn’t belong here.”
“Mrs Emerson is an adult,” Merrick replies smoothly, “and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Can you tell me why she left?”
“That’s none of your business,” Paul growls, his expression darkening.
Merrick’s gaze slides to me. “But I’d like to know.”
Dove interjects, her voice syrupy sweet. “It was just a little misunderstanding. A tiny quarrel, nothing major.”
Merrick arches a brow. “A small misunderstanding? She moved to an entirely different sector to get away from her husband. That’s quite the disagreement. And you are?”
“I’m her sister, Dove,” she replies with a simpering smile. “We have been so worried about her. She’s not well, you see. It runs in the family—on her father’s side.”
Merrick’s expression remains neutral. “That sounds serious.”
“It is,” Dove says, dropping her voice as though sharing a secret.
Paul leans forward, pleading. “Look, I love my wife. I’d never hurt her intentionally. This whole divorce thing is ridiculous. She can’t just leave me!”
Merrick’s eyes narrow, his next question slices through the room. “You both reek of each other. Do you and Mrs Emerson have an open relationship?”
Paul splutters, face reddening. Dove freezes, her smile faltering. I lean back, satisfied by the first crack in their united front.
“Mrs Emerson recorded a home video before she left you.” Merrick continues, his voice calm, but the weight of his words and his poorly veiled anger presses down on the room. Dove and Paul exchange confused glances, not yet grasping the situation.
“If you would,” Merrick says, nodding for me to proceed. He is careful not to say my name. Which I appreciate.
Though my smile is strained, I slide the laptop to the centre of the table. The video is queued up, but I angle the screen away from myself—I don’t need to relive it. The memory of that day is enough to twist my stomach into knots.
I press play, and the brief, damning fifteen seconds that changed everything. The sound is muted but unmistakable, the betrayal etched into every frame.
Paul’s chair scrapes back violently, the crash as it hits the floor making me flinch. He is on his feet in an instant, lunging across the table to grab the laptop like a desperate man.
But Blondie is quicker. He sweeps the laptop out of reach and tucks it under his arm. “Now, now, no destroying Ministry property, Mr Emerson,” he says with a toothy grin, his amusement barely concealed. “Did you have that temper with your wife?” He steps away as the other guards close in, their presence a silent warning.
Paul bristles, puffing out his chest like a cornered animal. “I would never lay a hand on her!” His voice cracks with indignation.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Merrick says smoothly, his tone razor-sharp. “But you would have awful sex with her sister.”
“Awful?” Dove’s face flushes red. “It wasn’t awful!”
“It looked awful,” Blondie mutters. “Like you were having some sort of episode.”
A stunned silence hangs over the room. I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh. I would have paid good money for him to say that. Is this really my life now?
Merrick does not miss a beat, his voice slicing through the quiet like a blade. “Let’s try this again, shall we? With the truth this time. Your wife, Mrs Emerson, caught you in the act with her sister. She recorded it because she knew you would deny it—as you have done repeatedly.”
Barry noisily jots something down in his file, shaking his head in disapproval.
Paul’s face flushes an ugly shade of red, his fists clenched at his sides. Dove, ever the opportunist, jumps in. “We didn’t think she’d be home!” she protests. “Paul said she’d be working late, that she had a big project. We didn’t think it would hurt anyone.”
“You didn’t think it would hurt anyone?” Merrick’s tone is incredulous. “Did it never occur to you, even for a second, how deeply it would shatter Lark to find out you were sneaking around with her husband? You didn’t think she’d notice her sheets reeking of the two of you?”
Dove has the gall to look offended. “I’d have changed the sheets. Lark just needs to come home, and we can continue as we were. I mean, we need her salary to keep the house!”
Merrick blinks, his expression blank. “Charming.”
Barry slides a document across the table to Paul’s solicitor, who scans it before standing and gathering his things. “We’re done here,” he says briskly, avoiding Paul’s attempts to grab his arm.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Paul snarls. “I paid you a fortune to be here!”
“There’s not enough money in the world to fix this,” the solicitor replies, straightening his tie. “Your wife is no longer your problem. The marriage has been annulled.”
Paul’s face twists with disbelief. “Annulled? That’s bullshit! You can’t annul nearly thirty years of marriage!”
“The law says otherwise,” Barry cuts in, pushing another set of documents towards Paul. “Here’s your copy for reference.”
Paul snatches the papers and reads them furiously. “It says here she was mauled by a shifter. What the hell does that mean? Is she dead?”
Dove lets out a theatrical gasp. “Lark’s dead? Oh my God, my poor sister! A shifter killed her? Who’s going to help me with?—”
“WILL YOU SHUT UP!” Paul roars, silencing her. He turns back to Merrick, his face mottled with fury. “What does this mean?”
“It means your wife is no longer human,” Merrick explains. “She is a ward of the Shifter Sector now. Her marriage to you is void, as she is legally considered deceased in the human world. All her property is being transferred to the Ministry.”
“She’s turned into a monster,” Paul spits. “Did she agree to this? Was this part of her job?”
“No, it wasn’t. Unfortunately, Lark was attacked while saving a colleague from being hurt. She is an incredibly brave woman.” Merrick points to the document. “That’s everything you will need for your records. If you can move out tonight, the Ministry will be selling the house and all joint assets. You will receive your share once the process is complete.”
“They’re selling the house?” Dove moans, clutching Paul’s arm. He has gone a frightful shade of pale. “But how can you?”
“It’s all legally binding,” Barry says with a shrug, his voice almost cheerful.
Paul’s hand shakes as he points at the document, his tone rising with confusion. “What’s this name here?” He jabs a finger at the page. “This isn’t her maiden name! Who is this Winters? Why has her surname changed?”
I blink, the words not making sense for a second. Winters? My surname has been changed? This is the first I’ve heard of it. I frown at Merrick, who meets my gaze with an exasperatingly calm expression.
“Lark, have you got anything else to add?” he asks, his voice like silk.
It takes me a moment to process his words. Shit. I manage a half-hearted wave, my throat suddenly tight. I want to puke. “Er… no, I’m fine. Thank you.”
Paul’s head snaps towards me at the sound of my voice. His eyes widen as he finally looks at me. Really looks. “Lark?” he croaks, disbelief in every syllable as his gaze drags over me, up and down. “Lark?”
Dove’s squeal pierces the air like a boiling kettle. “But… you’re beautiful ! What on earth happened to you? You look like…” She narrows her eyes, studying me with a mix of jealousy and suspicion. “I thought you looked familiar. You look like our great-grandmother. Is that what happens when someone becomes a shifter?”
She is livid. She’s so, so livid , she is seething with jealousy.
I fold my arms and lean back, biting my tongue to avoid saying something I might regret. If only she knew how little I care about her opinion now.
Merrick, utterly unbothered by the commotion, speaks smoothly as if announcing the weather. “Well, your marriage is annulled, and this meeting is over. You can both leave now.”
“Why Winters?” Paul snarls, glaring at me.
“Oh, isn’t it obvious in the documents? Section four, paragraph seven. Lark Winters has taken her mate’s name.”
“Mate?’ Paul and Dove say it in unison, the shock almost comical.
My own shock is no less severe. Mate? I mouth silently, my head spinning. I have a mate?
Merrick’s grin turns predatory, his icy blue eyes locking onto mine before turning back to the unhappy couple. “Oh yes. Lark will soon be mated to the Alpha Prime.”
“The Alpha Prime?” Dove wails, clutching Paul’s arm tighter like he is her lifeline.
“Yes.” Merrick’s smile grows wider, more wolfish. “ Me .”