Chapter 91: A Mother’s Fury 

Chapter 91: A Mother’s Fury 

(Olivia’s POV) 

Ethan’s words echoed in my mind long after he’d slammed the door. “I want to see Lily!” The 

audacity of his demand made my blood boil all over again. 

My chest tightened painfully, and I gasped for breath. The familiar sensation of panic clawed at my throat as grief overwhelmed me. I fumbled in my pocket for my medicine bottle, fingers 

trembling as I tried to open it. 

Empty. 

A sob escaped me as I slumped against the wall. Of course it was empty. Nothing in my life 

seemed to go right anymore. 

“I’m sorry, Lily,” I whispered to the empty room. “I’m so sorry.” 

Guilt crashed over me in waves. I had tried so hard to shield Lily from the truth of her father’s 

indifference. I’d made excuses for his absences, invented reasons for why he missed her 

birthday parties and school events. 

“Daddy’s just busy with pack business, sweetheart,” I would tell her, watching her little face fall 

with disappointment. “He loves you very much.” 

What a fool I’d been. My efforts to create a loving paternal image had only deepened Lily’s hurt, strengthened her attachment to a father who barely acknowledged her existence. 

• Tears streamed down my face as I stared at Lily’s portrait on my small altar. Her emerald eyes 

-so like my own–gazed back at me, innocent and trusting. 

“I failed you,” I choked out. “I couldn’t protect you from him. I couldn’t save you from your illness. And now, I can’t even bring Victoria to justice for what she did.” 

The weight of my failures crushed me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think past the overwhelming guilt and grief. 

I needed to see her. I needed to be close to my daughter. 

Without conscious thought, I grabbed my car keys and headed out into the night. 

The drive to Sacred Moonlight Cemetery was familiar–I’d made this journey countless times in the sleepless nights since Lily’s burial. The cemetery gates were never locked; the dead had 

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nothing to fear from intruders, and the living who visited at night usually had good reason. 

I parked my car and gathered the small offerings I’d brought–a package of venison jerky (Lily’s favorite) and fresh white flowers. The night air was cool against my tear–stained face as I made my way along the darkened paths. 

I felt no fear walking among the graves. These were places where the dead rested, where they were remembered and mourned. Like my Lily, they had been loved. 

As I approached Lily’s tombstone, my heart stopped. Someone was already there–a slender figure standing before my daughter’s grave. 

Even in the dim moonlight, I recognized her immediately. Victoria Frost. 

My blood ran cold. What was she doing here? What business did she have at my daughter’s 

resting place? 

I slipped behind a nearby monument, watching with growing horror as Victoria spoke to Lily’s 

grave. 

“You little brat,” she hissed, her voice carrying clearly in the still night air. “Even in death, you’re 

still causing me trouble.” 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Victoria was speaking to my dead child with such 

venom, such hatred. 

“If it weren’t for you, Ethan wouldn’t have been forced to marry that omega b***h,” she 

continued, pacing before the tombstone. “He would have been mine years ago.” 

My hands clenched into fists, nails digging painfully into my palms. How dare she? How dare 

she come to my daughter’s grave and spew such poison? 

“And now he’s obsessed with finding you,” Victoria spat. “He rejected me tonight because of 

you!” 

She kicked at the ground in frustration, her foot connecting with the white flowers I’d left during my last visit. The delicate blooms scattered across the grass, petals crushed beneath 

her heel. 

“You little mongrel, born of that omega b***h!” Victoria’s voice rose, echoing through the quiet cemetery. “Even in death, you’re still causing me trouble! If you don’t give me peace, I won’t let your spirit rest either!” 

To my horror, Victoria pulled out a small bottle filled with dark liquid. My heart pounded with the premonition of something terrible. 

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“You’re to blame for being born to that b***h Olivia Winters,” Victoria continued, unscrewing the cap. “Next life…oh, I forgot, you don’t have another life! Hahahahaha!” 

Her laughter echoed through the cemetery, cruel and mocking. She tilted the bottle, preparing to pour its contents onto Lily’s grave. 

Something inside me snapped. 

“Victoria Frost, stop!” I screamed, lunging from my hiding place. 

I didn’t think, didn’t plan–I simply acted. My body slammed into hers with all the force of my 

maternal rage. The impact knocked Victoria to the ground, the bottle flying from her hand and 

spilling its dark contents over her expensive clothes. 

“What the “Victoria shrieked, scrambling to wipe the liquid from her blouse. “You crazy 

b***h! Do you know how much this outfit cost?” 

I didn’t care about her clothes. I didn’t care about anything except protecting my daughter’s 

final resting place from this woman’s malice. 

“How dare you!” I snarled, kicking her hard in the side. “How dare you come to my daughter’s 

grave!” 

Victoria tried to rise, but I kicked her again, forcing her to her knees before Lily’s tombstone. 

“Apologize!” I demanded, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. “Apologize to my 

daughter!” 

Victoria’s face contorted with rage. “I’ll never apologize to that little-” 

I didn’t let her finish. My hand shot out, gripping her perfectly styled hair and yanking her head 

back painfully. 

“You will show respect,” I hissed, “or I swear by the moon, I will end you right here.” 

Victoria twisted in my grip, managing to break free. She scrambled to her feet, her face 

flushed with anger and humiliation. 

“You’ll regret this,” she threatened, lunging toward me with her manicured nails aimed at my 

face. 

I caught her wrist easily, twisting it until she gasped in pain. Five years of grief had hardened 

me in ways Victoria couldn’t understand. I was no longer the meek, accommodating Luna she 

had once manipulated so easily. 

“No, Victoria,” I said coldly. “You’ll regret coming here tonight.” 

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My open palm connected with her cheek in a resounding slap. The force of it snapped her head to the side, leaving a bright red mark on her pale skin. 

She staggered back, stunned by the blow. Before she could recover, I slapped her again. And 

again. And again. 

Each slap was for a moment my daughter had suffered. Each slap was for a time Victoria had smiled smugly while Lily cried. Each slap was for the kidney donor that had mysteriously been 

redirected from my dying child to Emma. 

Victoria’s legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees again, dazed and disoriented from the barrage of blows. 

My emerald eyes burned with a primal rage I had never experienced before. I saw red, consumed by the sheer malice of Victoria’s actions against my deceased daughter. 

This woman had contributed to Lily’s suffering in life. She had manipulated Ethan, turned him against his own daughter. And now she dared to desecrate Lily’s grave, to curse her spirit? 

No. I would not allow it. 

I grabbed Victoria by the shoulders and pushed her backward, forcing her head against Lily’s 

tombstone. 

“Bang!” 

The sound resonated through the night, a stark expression of a mother’s fury and unwavering