The next moment, the door swung open.

Robert stood in the doorway, sharp featured in a tailored suit. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the candlelit room before settling on her, his expression darkening instantly. His wolf’s eyes glimmered faintly in the shadows, a telltale sign of a werewolf's fury.

"Freya, when will you stop this nonsense?" His voice was a deep growl, laden with an authority that brooked no argument. His wolf's gaze was impatient, directed at me.

"There's a ten-year gap between us," he continued, advancing with purposeful strides that crushed rose petals underfoot, each step feeling like it trampled her heart. "I raised you since you were a child. Just how far will you go in your madness to covet me?"

Freya’s wolf ears pressed back against her head in anxiety, her tail instinctively curling close. Robert's voice was cutting, scornful. "Such rebellious thoughts must be banished at once!" Freya looked at the man she had loved silently for so long, her throat tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Her wolf’s claws scraped at the ground as if seeking relief from the torment within.

In her previous life, her parents perished in a car crash, and Robert, her father's friend, took her in. He was ten years her senior, a distant figure, yet indulgent to a fault.

He’d stay by her bedside through her nightmares, his wolf quietly wrapping its tail around her ankle, wordlessly offering comfort. He’d abandon billion-dollar meetings to soothe her menstrual cramps, tenderly feeding her homemade ginger tea. He’d fill a garage with luxury cars simply because she offhandedly admired them.

On her eighteenth birthday, he gifted her a necklace of astronomical value, placing it gently around her neck, his fingers grazing her skin. Her wolf watched him eagerly, heart pounding with an undeniable longing.

Caught in his tender world, she fell—little by little. But when she first confessed her feelings,his face turned stone cold, and he rebuked her insanity in a voice of ice.

Despite his repeated rejections and her continued advances, all crumbled when she stooped to using the vilest means—drugging him. That night shattered everything.

His beloved, Clara, fled heartbroken to Sylvonia but met a tragic end in a foreign land. Robert, bound by duty, married her but never spared her a single smile again.

Married life became a lingering torture, with Robert no longer sparing her a glance, much less a smile. Unable to endure such cold reticence, she ran away one stormy night, her wolf driven nearly mad with jealousy.

Robert searched for her relentlessly. When he finally found her on the bridge spanning the river, his voice was hoarse, a hand reaching out. "Come home."

She slapped his hand away. "You don't love me! Why are you even looking for me?"

As they argued, an out-of-control truck spedtoward them—

Robert didn’t hesitate, pushing her out of harm’s way as the truck hit him instead.

When she crawled toward him, he was barely alive. "Freya…" He reached out feebly, as if to wipe her tears, but his hand fell limp. "Don’t… be willful... Live well…"

She clutched his growing cold body, sobbing in agony. Only in that moment did she realize how thoroughly she had destroyed a decent man’s life, her wolf howling in sorrow.

She prayed fervently to all the gods, pleading that if she could live again, she would never, ever love him.

Now the universe seemed to hear her prayer.

"Speak!" Robert’s voice pulled her back to reality. "This is your last chance. If you dare pull another stunt like this, get out and never come back!"

Freya inhaled deeply, meeting his gaze, her wolf’s eyes steeled with determination. "Don't be angry. This...isn't for a confession. I wanted you to bring Clara."She forced a bitter smile. "You love her, don't you? This is for you to confess."

Robert was taken aback, surprise flickering in his eyes.

"What trickery is this?" he demanded coldly. "Who told you that I—"

Freya’s heart ached. If not for reliving this life, she wouldn’t have known about his love.

She had assumed he simply didn’t like her, unaware that he and Clara were only a confession away from happiness. His wolf always wore a smile around Clara.

She watched as Robert personally carried the casket at her funeral, standing by it for a day and night, eyes rimmed red. Only then did she comprehend how she had obliterated his love.

"I'm not playing tricks. I just realized our age gap is too great. We’re unsuitable."

"From now on, I’ll only see you as an uncle." Her voice trembled, tail drooping weakly.

"You and Clara… you’re perfect together. I wishyou both happiness."

Without waiting for his response, she dialed Clara's number.

"Sister Clara, could you come over? Uncle Carver... has something to say."

Clara seemed stunned on the other end but quickly agreed.

Twenty minutes later, Clara entered, eyes wide at the roses and candlelight.

"This is…"

Freya thrust the roses into Robert’s hands, offering Clara a smile. "Sister Clara, he has something to tell you."

Clara blushed, her voice trembling. "Robert, are you… confessing to me?"

Robert wasn’t prepared, but he did love Clara. He glanced at Freya, his wolf seeming to assess whether she was acting.

Finally, he nodded. "Yes, Clara, let’s be together."

Clara’s eyes brimmed with tears of joy as she nodded enthusiastically. "Okay." Freya stood by, watching them embrace, her smile fading into tears.

In this life, I won’t cling to you any longer.

Robert, you and Clara will thrive. You’ll live a long, prosperous life.

I’ll never ruin you again.

Robert caught the glint of tears in her eyes, his brow furrowing slightly, his wolf betraying an irritable flicker.

Is she still acting?

Taking Clara’s hand, he approached her with a frosty tone. "From now on, call Clara 'Aunt.'"

He expected her to crumble, to break character.

But Freya inhaled deeply, forcing a smile. "Aunt Clara."

Robert's eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion, just as the chandelier above abruptly came loose, crashing down toward Clara!

Robert’s pupils shrank in alarm, his instinct driving him to shield Clara, pulling her away forcibly.But in his haste, his elbow caught Freya, causing her wolf to retract in fear, her steps faltering—

The chandelier smashed down on her, crimson soaking her white dress instantly.

Clara shrieked in horror, clutching Robert’s arm, trembling like a leaf.

The hotel manager arrived, eyes wide, deflecting blame. "Mr. Carver, we had the chandelier inspected yesterday. There's no way this is an accident, someone must have tampered with it!"

Clara turned pale, eyes red, looking at Robert. "Robert… someone tried to kill me…"

Robert's gaze was icy as it snapped to Freya. His wolf watched me with malice.

"Freya," he hissed through clenched teeth, "is this how far you'll go to harm Clara?"

Freya, wracked with pain, could only shake her head.

It wasn't her… it truly wasn't her…

But Robert was resolute in his belief.

"I never imagined you'd stoop to such viciousness." His voice dripped with disgust as he scooped Clara into his arms, departing without a backward glance.

Freya lay in her pool of blood, her wolf’s eyes watching him fade from view.

Once, even a minor scrape had Robert in a fluster. Now, he couldn’t spare her even a glance.

As consciousness slipped away, she smiled bitterly.

Perhaps it was for the best. At least in this life, he wouldn’t die because of her.

When Freya awoke, she was in the Pack’s hospital. Picking up her phone, she was greeted by a news alert announcing Robert and Clara’s public relationship.

"Carver Corp's CEO, Robert, bold in declarations of love, spends millions on fireworks to celebrate his girlfriend’s birthday!"

The image showed Robert and Clara under the blooming pyrotechnics, his gaze gentle, his wolf filled with affection for Clara.

Freya’s fingertips trembled slightly, closing herthroat. She was about to shut the phone off when the hospital door opened quietly.

"Freya, you’re awake?" Senior Elijah Carrington entered, holding a bouquet of baby's breath.

"The Pack’s doctor said you need bed rest due to blood loss."

She managed a weak smile. "Thank you."

Elijah hesitated before setting the flowers by her bed, asking softly, "Are you really giving up the Sylvonia exchange program? Only the two of us were selected, and I… I really hoped—"

Freya paused, her wolf’s heart clenching with a rueful laugh.

In her past life, she had been selected for overseas studies but refused, wanting to stay near Robert.

But now…

Maybe leaving this time was the right choice.

"I'll go," she replied softly, her resolve firm.

Elijah's eyes lit up, joyfully grasping her hand. "Really? That's amazing!"Before the words were fully spoken, the door slammed open!

Robert stood there, clad in a black suit that highlighted his tall, imposing figure. Clara clung to his arm, her eyes tender.

His eyes fell on their joined hands, icy wolf eyes suddenly cold.

"Freya," his voice cut through the room like a blade, "what do you think you’re doing?"

Elijah realized his mistake and quickly loosened his grip, taking a step back.

His movement caused Freya's wolf ears to tremble slightly. His wolf instinctively caught the sound of her rapid breathing.

“I'm sorry, I just—”

Before he could finish, Robert approached with a forbidding expression, causing Elijah's face to turn pale as though pinned in place by an invisible force.

“She needs rest,” Robert's voice was as cold as ice, his gaze sweeping over Elijah with a warning glint in his wolfish eyes. “Please leave.”

Elijah opened his mouth but ultimately left under the pressure of Robert's piercing stare.

Once the door to the hospital room closed, Clara gently tugged on Robert's sleeve and softly said, “Robert, Freya is still young; it's understandable that she might have acted impulsively. I've already forgiven her, so please, don't stay mad.” Robert's tense expression eased slightly, his wolf tail gave a gentle sway, though his wolf's face remained visibly displeased toward me.

Freya watched him obey Clara's every word, her heart gripped tightly as if by an unseen hand. Her wolf claws unconsciously scratched at the bed sheets, her sharp nails nearly piercing the fabric.

Clara ladled out a bowl of fish soup from a thermos, tenderly handing it over, “Freya, I simmered this soup for a long time. Would you like to try it?”

Freya stared at the milky white fish soup, her fingers trembling slightly. Her wolf nose sharply caught the fishy scent, and her wolf throat tightened instinctively; her allergy to fish was life-threatening.

“I...”

Just as she wanted to refuse, Clara's eyes brimmed with tears.

“Are you still... holding a grudge against me?” Clara's voice was choked with emotion, as if she had suffered a great injustice. Seeing this, Robert frowned, a trace of impatience flared in his wolf eyes. “Freya, Clara cares about you despite everything. Is this your way of responding?”

Freya's throat tightened.

Robert had always known about her fish allergy, which was why the Carver family hadn't seen fish in over a decade. But now, just to prevent Clara from being upset, he disregarded her safety...

Fine, if this is what he wants, then she would grant him his wish.

She lowered her eyes and took the bowl, drinking the soup in one gulp after another. The soup was flavorful, yet bitter enough to bring tears to her eyes. Her wolf allowed her to feel each note of fishiness, as if poison was invading her body.

Once she had finished drinking, Robert's expression softened slightly, and he rose to the hallway to take a work call.

No sooner had he left than the tenderness on Clara's face vanished.

“Freya, stop playing the victim,” she sneered, hervoice so low only wolf ears could catch.

“Robert is merely caring for you out of past sentiments; don't be oblivious.”

Freya's throat was already beginning to itch, her skin breaking out in tiny, red welts, making breathing difficult.

She wanted to press the call button for a Pack doctor, but Clara clamped down on her wrist with such force that even her wolf bones ached.

“I suggest you leave soon,” Clara hissed, “and stop disrupting our happiness.”

Freya struggled to push her away, but the allergic reaction rendered her powerless. Her wolf wanted to tear her apart, but she lacked the strength.

At that moment, Robert returned, opening the door just as Freya reached out to push Clara away.

Clara staggered back, her eyes instantly filled with tears.

“Freya!” Robert strode forward, quickly supporting Clara, his gaze icy as he looked atFreya, anger flaring in his wolf eyes. “Are you trying to harm her again while I'm not here?”

“No...” Freya gasped, her wolf ears drooping weakly from oxygen deprivation. “I'm having an allergic reaction... I was trying to call a Pack doctor... accidentally...”

Robert wouldn't believe her. “It seems deliberate to me! Freya, you're beyond help!”

Freya attempted to explain further, but her throat swelled to where she couldn't utter a sound. Her wolf tail hung limply, as if even her final attempt at resistance had been extinguished.

Not only did Robert ignore her suffering, but he coldly commanded, “Lock her in the cold storage for reflection. Once she apologizes, then she’ll be let out!”

Freya's pupils contracted.

Cold storage...

She had been locked in cold storage as a child, nearly freezing to death, afterward developing an extreme fear of the cold. But Robert afforded her no opportunity for explanation, summoning guards to drag her away.

The cold storage's icy temperatures pierced like knives.

Freya curled into a corner, shivering violently. Her wolf fur should have kept her warm, but the allergic reaction caused her body temperature to plummet. The welts had spread to her neck, and her throat was so swollen she could barely breathe.

She desperately clawed at her throat, trying to expel the fish soup, but aside from retching, there was nothing she could do. Her wolf paced anxiously.

So cold... so painful...

In her fading consciousness, she seemed to return to her childhood.

That year, she had a fever that wouldn’t break, and Robert stayed by her bedside all night, repeatedly changing the ice-cold towels. His wolf tail gently encircled her ankle, silently imparting warmth.

“Uncle Carver…” she murmured deliriously,clutching his hand, “Don’t leave me…”

He rarely showed such gentleness, soothing her with a low voice, “I won’t leave; sleep well.”

Later, when she learned to play piano, her fingers blistered with blood, and he frowned as he held her hand, personally tending to her wounds. His gaze was full of concern for her back then.

“If you don’t want to practice, then don’t,” he said.

But she shook her head, “I want to play for you.”

He paused for a moment, then lightly ruffled her hair, a flicker of emotion she couldn’t comprehend passing through his wolfish eyes.

And there was her fifteenth birthday when he rented out an amusement park just for her, standing by as she laughingly rode the carousel, emotions behind his gaze she couldn’t understand.

“Uncle Carver!” she waved at him, “Come join the fun!”

He shook his head but caught her steadily when she leapt down from the ride.“Be careful,” he murmured.

Back then, her every thought and emotion was filled with him.

But now...

In the cold storage, Freya huddled, her tears freezing as they fell.

Finally, she understood that those tender moments were never love.

Only responsibility.

It was unclear how much time had passed when a low and cold voice echoed above her.

“Do you realize your mistake?”

Freya struggled to open her eyes, seeing Robert standing before her, looking down with an imposing gaze. His wolf eyes glinted with a harsh light in the dimness of the cold storage, reminiscent of a merciless judge.

Her whole body felt icy, her throat swollen and sore, making breathing difficult. Even her wolf was so cold that its tail couldn't twitch.

But she merely nodded slightly, "...I realize my mistake."

Robert frowned slightly, appearing surprised by her compliance. His wolf ears twitched as they picked up her weak breath, determining if she was lying.

He fed her an allergy pill, then bent down to lift her out of the cold storage, bringing her back home. His embrace was still warm, yet her wolf fur stood on end from the cold, unable to snuggle into his arms as it once did.

Inside the villa, Clara had already moved in.

Seeing them return, she hurriedly went up and clung to Robert's arm, her fingers gliding subtly over his wolf tail. “Robert, I want Freya's room—it gets good sunlight and has a nice view. Can I have it?”

Robert glanced at Freya, paused for a few seconds, then nodded, “Alright.”

He thought she’d make a scene, questioning him with teary eyes as she used to, maybe even showing her wolf claws in a dispute.

But Freya merely turned silently to pack her belongings. Her wolf tail drooped as if even her last shred of pride had been crushed.

Clara followed her, disdainfully pointing at curtains and carpets Freya had carefully chosen, "These need to go—they’re too childish, not fitting for Robert and me."

Freya said nothing, allowing Clara to direct the servants to throw out her belongings one by one. Her wolf sensed Clara’s smug laughter, but she lacked the strength to be angry.

Robert stood at the doorway, frowning at her calm demeanor. “You’ve become quite obedient.”

Freya lowered her head, her mouth tugging slightly.

It wasn’t that she’d become obedient—she’d decided it was time to leave.

This place would no longer be her home.

She watched silently as her belongings were cleared out, as if the memories of those years were being erased along with them. Finally, she took out her phone to contact the pet store, intending to give away the cat she had raised for many years.

But before she could dial, Clara’s shrill scream echoed from upstairs— “That damn cat scratched me!”

Freya’s heart seized, and she rushed upstairs to find Clara holding her cat, dangling it over the balcony. Her wolf throat emitted a low growl, “Stop!”

She tried to snatch it back, but Clara shoved her away.

“It scratched my hand!” Clara laughed, a vicious glint in her eye, “A disobedient thing like this might bite next. Better to get rid of it!”

With that, she let go—

“No—!”

Freya lunged to the balcony, but could only watch as her cat hit the ground heavily, blood staining the earth.

She trembled, tears streaming instantly. “...Silas? Silas?”

When she was sixteen, afraid of the dark and unable to sleep, Robert had bought her this ragdoll cat overnight.

“Let it keep you company.” He’d placed the kitten in her arms, his wolf tail gently curled around her shoulders, “Don’t be scared.”

The kitten had softly meowed, nuzzling her fingers.

She thought it would stay with her for a long, long time, until the end of its life.

But now, it lay cold and still in her arms, never to wake again. Her wolf let out an enraged howl.

Behind her, the click of high heels approached.

“It’s just an animal, is it really worth it?” Clara laughed down at her, “Freya, you’re as redundant as this cat. If you don’t leave soon, you’ll end up like it.”

Freya didn’t understand why—though she had openly confessed to Robert before, she had already stepped aside for him and Clara. Why did Clara keep targeting her over and over?

Her fingers trembled as she held Silas tightly, her wolf claws instinctively clenching, as if trying to hold onto the last bit of warmth.

“Oh, by the way,” Clara leaned in, her red lips brushing Freya’s ear,

“Your parents were short-lived too. They deserved to die early for birthing a jinx like you—”

“Slap!”

A resounding slap echoed through the room.

Clara staggered back, clutching her face, eyes wide in disbelief.

Freya’s hand still trembled, but her voice was cold as ice. “Mention my parents again and see what happens.” Her wolf eyes turned crimson—an omen of wolf clan rage.

“Freya!”

Robert’s voice came from behind, filled with fury.

He strode forward, grabbing her wrist with a force that nearly crushed her bones. “Are you insane?” His wolf eyes blazed with anger, as if she were the unforgivable sinner.