Every Saturday morning, Ava made a point of visiting Grandma Mia at Evergreen Senior Care.
This week she’d missed her usual visit—she’d gone ring shopping with Damon instead.
So she dialed Claire, one of the facility’s caregivers.
“Hi, Claire.
How’s Grandma doing?”
“She’s doing well, dear.
Eating on time, taking her medication.
She’s been asking after you, though.
Are you coming by today?”
Ava’s chest tightened.
“I don’t think I can make it today—something came up.
Could you spend a little extra time with her?
I’ll come by tomorrow.”
“Of course, honey.
Don’t you worry.
I’ll keep her company.”
Ava hung up and let out a soft sigh.
Grandma Mia was the only warmth she’d ever known in that family.
When Ava was small, her parents had been too busy scraping by in the pack to spare her any attention—every scrap of their care went to Wyatt.
They kept him close, doted on him, raised him in one of the nicer houses deep in pack territory, and handed Ava off to her aging grandmother.
It was Grandma Mia who raised her.
Later, when Ava got into university, her parents refused to pay a cent.
Grandma Mia gave her every last dollar of her pension savings instead.
“Go, little one,” she’d said.
“Study hard.
Fly far away from this place.”
Then came the Alzheimer’s diagnosis.
Gerald and Marnie couldn’t be bothered with her—they dumped her in a run-down public facility on the edge of the pack’s territory.
Ava was still in school when she found out.
She’d scraped together everything she had and moved Grandma Mia to Evergreen, a private facility with proper medical staff and clean rooms.
Grandma Mia was her greatest weakness.
The monthly fees and medical bills were steep, and that was one of the reasons she’d agreed to Damon’s contract in the first place.
She needed money—a lot of it—to make sure Grandma Mia would always be cared for.
That evening, over dinner, Damon made an announcement Ava never saw coming.
“My mother wants to meet you.
Tomorrow, around three.
We’ll go together.”
Ava’s fork paused halfway to her mouth.
She set it down carefully, her spine straightening.
“All right.”
She’d planned to visit Grandma Mia on Sunday.
That would have to wait.
Meeting Queen Mother Margaret wasn’t optional—it was one of her obligations as Damon’s Luna Queen, contract or not.
“Don’t be nervous.” Damon’s gaze settled on the sudden tension in her shoulders, and his voice dropped, quieter than usual.
“It’s a simple meeting.
She won’t give you a hard time.”
“I understand.” Ava nodded, though the knot in her stomach didn’t loosen.
She’d never met anyone like Queen Mother Margaret—a woman who’d raised an Alpha King, who commanded respect from every wolf on the continent.
Ava had no idea how to carry herself in front of someone like that, let alone convince her she was worthy of standing beside Damon as his Luna Queen.
Dinner ended in near silence.
Damon excused himself and disappeared into his study upstairs.
Ava sat alone a few minutes longer, staring at the wine in her glass, then finally pushed back her chair and headed to her room.
Meeting the Queen Mother.
The phrase settled over her like a weight, and with it came two thoughts she couldn’t shake.
The first: Damon had never once asked about her family.
Not a single question—not about her parents, her background, her pack ties.
Nothing.
That wasn’t normal.
Even in a contract marriage, people usually went through the motions, asked the polite questions, arranged introductions between families, if only for show.
Unless Damon already knew.
Unless he’d dug into her past long before they ever sat down to sign that contract, and decided it was kinder not to bring it up—kinder to let her keep her dignity than to force her to explain Gerald, Marnie, Wyatt, and all the ugliness that trailed after them.
The thought should have unsettled her.
Instead it brought a strange, quiet relief.
At least that made sense.
The second thought was harder to dismiss.
Why had Damon shown up the very night she broke things off with Victor?
The moment Victor was out of the picture, Damon had appeared with a contract, like he’d been standing in the wings the whole time.
Ava shook her head sharply, pushing the idea away before it could take root.
That was ridiculous.
Damon Sterling didn’t obsess over women, and he certainly wasn’t pining after his son’s girlfriend.
Their only connection had ever been Victor.
That was all.
She climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, forcing herself to focus on tomorrow.
On playing her role.
On being the Luna Queen Damon needed her to be.
Nothing more.
At eleven o’clock, a knock came at her door.
Ava sat up, frowning.
She pulled on a robe and padded over, opening it to find Damon in the hallway.
He was still dressed—shirt untucked, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His gaze swept over her, lingering just long enough to make her pulse quicken.
“It’s late,” she said cautiously.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” His voice was low, deliberate.
“But I have a question.”
“What is it?”
“Do you want to, tonight?”
Ava blinked.
“Want to what?”
Damon’s expression didn’t change.
“Sleep together.”