I stood in the middle of my office, my entire world crumbling around me. Aurelia's words echoed in my head like a death sentence. My daughter was gone. Violet was dead.
"This can't be true," I whispered, even as the proof stared me in the face.
Aurelia held the death certificate before me, her hand steady while mine shook. The official document bore the hospital seal, the doctor's signature, and the devastating words: "Violet Monroe Valois, age 5, cause of death: kidney failure."
My wolf howled in anguish, clawing at my insides with such ferocity I thought my chest might rip open. Memories I'd dismissed as unimportant suddenly flooded back with devastating clarity.
The servants who had tried to tell me about Violet's condition, whom I'd fired for "spreading lies." The doctor's reports I'd tossed aside without reading. The desperate phone call from my daughter that I'd ended abruptly because Natalie needed me.
