Third Person's POV A single word - "brother-in-law" - shattered the hall like a thunderclap beneath the moon. Those who knew the truth froze where they stood. The wolves who had witnessed Damon Blackwood's courtship years ago, the same ones who toasted his promise to Aysel, all turned wide-eyed toward the Moonvale heiress. It was not an innocent jest. It was a blade dipped in venom, aimed at the heart. The ones who had once watched Damon kneel under the sacred moonstone and vow himself to Aysel could not mistake what that word meant. They knew the two had been bound for years - that their souls had danced beneath countless blood moons before tearing apart in silence. Now, that one word - brother-in-law - struck him like divine retribution. Even Mary, so bold moments ago, found her tongue stilled. She had wanted a scene, but she had not expected this. The turn was too sharp, too ruthless. Yet when her gaze landed on Damon's face - pale, stricken, eyes wide with despair - she felt a wicked thrill curl through her chest. At last, justice - or at least humiliation - had found him. Mary gave a coy smile, bowing slightly toward Aysel. "Of course. Forgive me, Lady Aysel. My mistake. The stories must have been lies. So it's true then - the younger Vale daughter and her... brother-in-law." Her tone dripped with mockery. Then, with a laugh, she melted back into the crowd beside her mother. But Damon could barely stand. The word still echoed in his skull, the scent of Aysel's amusement threading through his lungs like poison. He moved before he thought - straining against the grip of his parents, his parents, who each caught an arm before he could cross the floor. "Enough!" Alpha Blackwood hissed, his eyes like cold iron. "You've shamed this family enough for one night." His mother's tone softened, but her claws dug deep. "The bond is broken, Damon. The Luna has been chosen. Do not ruin what little peace remains." He wrenched against them, fury and despair flaring like wildfire. "You know who I was meant to marry! You know what we were!" But the elders only tightened their hold. Around them, wolves whispered in tones sharp as fangs - the Eastern Alpha undone, the Moonvale heiress reborn in fury.When he finally tore free, staggering forward, the crowd parted as if the scent of his desperation burned their nostrils. He met Aysel's eyes. "Aysel, please-" She did not flinch. "You stepped out earlier, didn't you?" Her voice was calm, quiet - a knife dressed in silk. "Do you remember our wager, Damon? What was it again, dear brother-in-law?" Her words rippled through the hall like the call of a predator before the hunt. He faltered, lips trembling, every muscle rigid with memory. He knew exactly what she meant. He had sworn - stay by her side until the bond was sealed before their packs, and he would earn her forgiveness. But he had left. "Forgive me..." he whispered. Her smile was light, almost kind. "No need. In fact-" She stepped closer, her voice dropping low, a secret only they could share. "Thank you, brother-in-law, for clearing my name." The words sank in like silver into flesh. His heart twisted. Clearing her name? She had turned their history - their love, their years together - into a crime erased. "Aysel, don't-don't call me that," Damon choked. His voice cracked, desperate, the edge of his control shattering. But she only brushed away the hand he reached toward her and stepped back. One step. It was a single pace of distance - yet between them yawned a chasm deeper than the lunar seas. "Don't," he rasped. "Don't walk away from me-" "Enough!" Alpha Blackwood's roar broke across the hall. "You've disgraced the Blackwood name already. Will you humiliate us further?" But Damon barely heard him. His pulse pounded with the rhythm of ruin. Around them, the Moonvale and Blackwood elders traded thinly veiled looks of fury and exhaustion. The alliances that once promised dominance now reeked of scandal. Then came the sound. A crash - sharp, violent, echoing from the direction of the Moonvale manor's upper terrace. Every head turned.From the second-floor window, a figure tumbled backward, barely catching the ledge by his claws - a young wolf, half-shifted, cursing loudly as blood streamed down his face. Pinned beneath him, another male - older, powerful, and unmistakably familiar - writhed in a tangle of sheets and shame. And standing before the open window, silver hair disheveled, eyes blazing with feral rage, was Celestine- tonight's newly proclaimed Luna. In her hand, a shattered wine bottle still dripped with crimson and moonlight. The hall erupted into chaos. And Aysel serene amid the uproar, simply tilted her head and whispered to no one in particular- "Ah. The goddess delivers quickly tonight."