Isabella's POV
My father didn't wait for my tears. He didn't care about my excuses. The punishment was immediate.
"You will remain in these rooms," he said, his voice cold and flat. "You are not to leave this wing of the compound. Guards will be posted."
I stared at him, my mouth dry. "For how long?"
"Indefinitely," he snapped. "You are a danger to this family, Isabella. A liability I can no longer afford."
He wasn't just angry. He was done with me. Eighteen years of being the perfect daughter, erased in one night.
"Your duties on the pack council are revoked," he continued, listing off my failures like a death sentence. "Your access to the family funds has been frozen. The charity gala you were organizing is cancelled. We will release a statement citing a sudden illness."
He was stripping me of everything. My power, my money, my social standing. Everything that made me who I was.
"You have disgraced this family," he said, turning his back on me. "Now you will learn what it means to have nothing."
He walked out and closed the doors. I heard the heavy, final click of a lock I didn't even know existed.
The first day was a blur of shock and disbelief. This couldn't be happening. It was a mistake, a terrible misunderstanding. He would come back. He would forgive me.
He didn't.
By the third day, the isolation was a physical thing, a crushing weight. I tried to walk to the suite's main doors, just to see the hallway.
Two guards I'd known my whole life stood there, their faces like stone. They didn't even look at me. They just crossed their spears, blocking my path.
"Alpha's orders, Isabella," one of them said, his voice completely devoid of the respect he used to show me. He didn't even use a title. Just my name.
Humiliation burned in my gut, hot and acidic. I retreated back into the gilded cage of my room.
The whispers started soon after. I could hear them through the door when the servants brought my meals. They would leave the tray on a table outside and knock, never daring to enter.
"—heard she used a poison from the old books—"
"—so jealous of the real heir—"

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