The Forgotten Princess of the Pack Chapter 09

The Forgotten Princess of the Pack Chapter 09

Aunt Beatrice collapsed onto the floor, sobbing 

uncontrollably. 

Dad sank onto the bed, his expression empty. 

Grayson looked as though he had been soaked through, tears and sweat blending together until they were 

indistinguishable. 

He suddenly bolted outside as if he had lost his mind. No one 

tried to stop him. 

“You should leave as well,” Mom said quietly. “You’re an adult now. You’ve saved enough allowance over the years. It’s enough for you to live on.” 

Vivienne’s eyes widened. She dropped to the floor, crying. 

“Mom, I was wrong. Please don’t make me leave. I’m begging 

you. Don’t abandon me.” 

Mom turned her head away and did not look at her again. Dad dragged her out without hesitation. 

Everything fell into silence. 

Aunt Beatrice looked at Mom numbly, then turned and left 

without another word. 

When Dad returned to my room, Mom was gone. 

I saw her climbing onto the roof of the villa. The wind lifted 

her hair. 

Her gaze suddenly fixed on one direction. 

That direction was where I was standing. 

She forced a smile. “Felicity, I’m sorry. Mom will use this life to make it up to you.” 

“No… that’s not right. Mom said it wrong.” Her voice 

trembled. “Felicity, I’ll come be with you.” 

After Vivienne was driven out, she could have continued living 

a relatively comfortable life. 

But she was not satisfied. 

What ordinary werewolves considered comfortable felt 

unbearable to her. 

She turned to gambling, hoping to change her fate. 

Instead, she lost all her savings and accumulated enormous 

debts. 

To escape the debt collectors, she fled into the remote 

mountains. There, she was captured and imprisoned by a 

primitive pack. 

By the time the pack enforcers found her, five years had 

passed. 

She was locked in the pits of the pack, tortured until she was 

barely recognizable, her mind completely shattered. 

Grayson disappeared without a trace. No one knew whether he 

was alive or dead. 

Three years later, someone finally recognized him in a pack 

arena. 

He was dark and skeletal. Likely weakened by long–term starvation, he fell from a work site and was crippled. 

Perhaps he believed this was a way to atone. 

To me, it was childish and absurd. 

Dad donated all of the pack’s assets and established a 

foundation dedicated to rescuing werewolf pups who had been abducted by rogues and sold into primitive packs to endure 

inhumane suffering, just as I had. 

He packed his bag and joined the rescue teams year after year, searching through remote packs. 

When one of the wolf warriors handed him water, he sighed. 

“Alpha William is a deeply emotional man. Whenever he 

rescues those children with us, he can’t help tearing up when 

he looks at them.”