22. Chapter 22
Ivy
Bed rotting in my room was becoming my new hobby. Even the lab couldn’t distract me forever. I still felt an ache in my chest every time I thought about Pack Vale and how they were snatched up by Arabella.
I was actually surprised at how much it was affecting me physically. It wasn’t as if we’d actually courted - I’d had some moments with each of them, and to me, they felt perfect. But clearly they didn’t feel the same way - even if they’d tried to maintain a good working relationship with me after.
I rubbed my chest, trying to ease the physical weight I felt.
I was currently lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that the pain would pass using any method possible.
Pack Vale wasn’t mine. They had never been mine.
They'd never promised me anything. The only thing they'd done was treat me with kindness and respect, and somehow, I'd built an entire fantasy around it.
Meditation wasn’t working to distract me. I’d tried yoga, mindfulness, anything, and nothing was working. With a frustrated sigh, I rolled over and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Maybe if I scrolled long enough, my brain would finally move on to something else.
The first video to appear in my feed was Arabella. I felt my heart rate spike. Of course it was - she was all over my algorithm, and there was no way I’d escape that as long as we worked at the same family company.
In the video, she was standing in our kitchen wearing a pale pink dress while soft music played in the background. It was another of her advice videos, where she somehow convinced thousands of people that she was the smartest omega alive.
"Three things every omega should know before bonding..."
I immediately swiped away. A few swipes later, another video appeared, still of Arabella.
"Real confidence isn't loud. True femininity comes from grace and self-respect." I sighed at her advice, which was so at odds with how she acted in real life.
Swipe.
"How to become the best version of yourself..."
I swiped again, irritated at all the comments from people who thought she was some type of role model.
I was the one who lived with her - I saw the girl who stole credit for other people's work, the real Arabella who measured her success by whether someone else lost. Yet somehow, she was the omega all these followers admired.
Swipe.
I couldn’t exactly block her - I’d tried that once, and holy hell had it been the biggest blow-up of the century.
I’d been accused of hating her and causing drama within the company.
Clara and my fathers spent some time berating me while Arabella sat nearly weeping at the transgression.
Since then, I’d been forced to follow her.
Arabella made sure I watched her videos by occasionally asking my opinion about them at dinner time, which was always a joy to experience.
I swiped again, and this time it wasn’t Arabella's account - yet it was somehow worse. A fan account had posted photos from one of her dates. It seems that her fans were so invested in her relationship with Pack Vale that they were now sending in tips and photos.
Before I could stop myself, I swiped through, seeing the images.
Arabella was smiling alongside Hunter and Ronan, with Elias close by.
They were heading into the movie theater.
I stared at the images way longer than was healthy.
The comments made it even worse. I looked through them, my body feeling awful with each one I read.
"They're adorable together."
"You can tell they're obsessed with her."
"Relationship goals."
Something inside me cracked, and a small whine escaped my throat before I could stop it. The sound shook me as I realized what I’d done. I never whined - not for anyone. Yet I was now whining for a pack that wasn’t even here. They weren’t even mine.
Immediately, I felt embarrassed and stupid.
There was no reason I should be this attached to them.
I wasn’t their match. Realistically, I had no chance with them even without Arabella in the picture.
But the ache remained, spreading through my stomach and chest until I curled tighter around myself, pressing a hand against my ribs.
I hated this. I hated myself for thinking about them and constantly wondering what they were doing. I hated that their very presence seemed like a balm to me, and yet seeing them with Arabella felt like a knife in my heart.
But the reality was that they had found their omega, and it wasn’t me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a breath.
I knew I couldn’t go on like this, hiding in my room while Arabella paraded around her relationship with Pack Vale.
It was unhealthy to focus on feelings that were never going to be returned.
I needed to move on and actually focus on a future that was realistic.
I sat up, my mind racing. Maybe it was time to stop focusing on what I couldn't have and start looking for something of my own.
After all, there were thousands of packs in the matching database that Vale Labs put together - I hadn't even submitted my profile. Maybe I could find someone who actually had a high compatibility with me. Then, I wouldn’t spend all this time guessing and falling for a pack just to get heartbroken.
I went to sit at my desk, ready to pull up the results of my genetic profile. I hadn’t been interested in the results of my profile, and still wasn’t keen on seeing my shortcomings, but I had to at least submit them to the matchmaking database.
There were so many packs out there. Surely one of them would want me - maybe not the perfect match, or a powerful pack. Maybe not even one that made me feel the things I felt around Pack Vale. But at least we would know we’d be compatible long term.
The lab result website loaded a few moments later.
I hadn't looked at my paperwork since it arrived.
At the time, I hadn't cared. Now, I was curious.
I pulled my laptop closer and navigated to the matching registry website.
Since I'd never intended to submit my results before, I'd never bothered creating an account.
All I needed to do was enter my identification code and email address.
I copied the code from the initial email the lab had sent me before I went in to get tested and tried to create an account. A red error message immediately appeared, taking up the screen.
“An account already exists for this identification number.”
I sat back, staring at the message with bewilderment.
What? I tried entering it again, but the same message popped up.
This didn’t make any sense. I’d never registered, so my ID number couldn't already have an account.
For a moment, I just sat there staring at the screen while a strange feeling settled into the pit of my stomach.
Maybe there had been some sort of mistake. I needed to check my paperwork.
Thinking back, I’d never actually looked at it.
Arabella had snatched it up back when our files had arrived in the mail.
Arabella had opened both envelopes - I was sure they must be in her room.
The house was empty now, and I knew Arabella was filming something across town.
I stood up, walking out to the stairway and looking up.
I wasn't supposed to go into Arabella’s room - I knew that. But something felt wrong, and I needed my file. Before I could talk myself out of it, I slipped out of my room and headed upstairs.
Arabella's bedroom occupied nearly an entire wing of the third floor.
It had started as two bedrooms years ago before Clara convinced my fathers to knock down a wall and combine them.
The result looked more like a luxury hotel suite than a bedroom.
I paused outside her door, my heart racing even though I knew no one could possibly catch me.
I stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of her replica perfume - a cloying, overly sweet scent that made me feel nauseous. All around were designer handbags and ring lights for her content creation. There were PR boxes all over, and beauty products lined every available space.
"This is insane," I muttered. Arabella wasn't particularly organized, despite appearances.
Most everything she had eventually ended up shoved into drawers or decorative storage boxes.
My eyes fell to her desk, which was cluttered with makeup and products.
I reached for the top drawer, but it was filled with camera accessories and more makeup.
The next few drawers were more random items from various companies, most of which looked unopened.
Finally, I opened a drawer at the bottom of her desk.
There was a random assortment of papers filled to the top, and I flipped through them, looking at various contracts from the brands she worked with. Then, my breath caught when I saw it.
A cluster of files, with my name, Arabella's, and also the three files that Pack Vale had volunteered as an example. They were all held together by a rubber band. I quickly shoved the remaining papers back in the drawer and ran back down to my room, feeling surreal. I’d just taken something from Arabella’s room - I would get absolutely shredded alive if she found out.
I slipped inside my room and locked the door behind me, pulling out the one with my ID number on it.
I double-checked, and when I opened it, I saw my name.
Slowly, I flipped through the pages. As I read, I felt shock replace the tension.
Not because there was anything bad in my file, but because there were almost all positive marks on my genetic and potential bonding results.