The Secret Heirs of the Lycan King (by Misha K) novel Chapter 29

**When Midnight Winds Carry Secrets Toward Worlds Yet Unknown**
**Chapter 29**

**Bella**

The moment those words left her lips—about seeing my face in the newspaper—I felt the color drain from my cheeks. Who was this woman, and what gave her the right to confront me in such a manner? Could she possibly be the photographer responsible for that incriminating snapshot? Dressed in an extravagant red gown and adorned with diamond-encrusted heels, she exuded an air of entitlement that reminded me of a pampered princess. When she introduced herself as Scott’s fiancée, it felt as if the very air had been knocked from my lungs, leaving me breathless and reeling.

I hesitated, grappling with the weight of her revelation. “I knew it,” she declared triumphantly, her voice laced with a mix of disdain and satisfaction. “You’re the girl in the paper. The morning headlines have Scott kissing you.” Her words struck me like a slap across the face, a brutal reminder of a reality I desperately wished to escape. For a fleeting moment, I felt as though I might dissolve into the concrete beneath my feet. This was the last thing I wanted to become public knowledge, but how on earth did she know?

Then, a new emotion surged within me—jealousy. It reared its ugly head with startling intensity. A fiery heat ignited in my chest, spreading like a live ember that scorched my very soul. I found myself wanting to lash out, to grab her by the hair, to claw at her face, to kick her until she could no longer stand. As I scrutinized her, I loathed the way she stood there, composed and self-assured, declaring herself as Scott’s fiancée.

In that moment, another feeling emerged, a white-hot fury directed at Scott himself. How dare he flirt with me, kiss me, and hold me in ways that were entirely inappropriate when he had a fiancée waiting at home? The sheer audacity of his actions was infuriating. How could he be so reckless and callous with my feelings? The realization that he was nothing more than a two-timer, a womanizer, made my hands clench into fists. I wanted to confront him, to unleash a torrent of curses right then and there, to expose his deceit and disregard for my life. I should have been more vigilant, and now I was left feeling miserable and betrayed.

Yet, after a few moments of simmering rage, I felt the cool hand of logic return. Inhaling deeply, I forced my chest to relax, pushing down the tumult of emotions that threatened to consume me. My children were the only ones who truly mattered in this chaotic moment. Emma and Ryan should not be dragged into this ugly confrontation simply because I had lost my temper. If I wanted to shield them from the fallout, I had to think clearly and strategically.

I had never aspired to be Scott’s girlfriend; I had never asked for any of this entanglement. It was imperative that I put an end to it once and for all. I steadied my resolve and met the woman’s gaze head-on. “Scott Moore’s fiancée,” I said, my voice steady but raw. “Which mystery girl? And do you have any proof to back up your claims?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at my boldness, and I couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. I had expected her to retreat, to soften her stance. Instead, she shot back with defiance, “My name is Tasha Diaz, not just Scott Moore’s fiancée! But soon, I will be his wife. Remember that.”

“You introduced yourself that way,” I replied flatly, even as her words twisted like a knife in my heart. What was wrong with me? I took another deep breath, determined to suppress the emotions clawing at my insides. “Anyway, Tasha, where is your evidence that I’m the woman in the newspaper?”

Her expression morphed from surprise to anger. “You were the only woman in a peach dress that day who met him. I know it for sure!”

I nearly laughed, but it came out as a dry, humorless exhale. “Peach is not a color exclusive to me,” I countered. “There are countless women who wear peach. It’s a common choice. That’s the flimsiest evidence I’ve ever heard. You can’t accuse someone based solely on the color of their dress.” How could she be so certain that I was the only girl in a peach dress who had met Scott that day? Did she have spies trailing her fiancé? Her insecurity was almost palpable.

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