The Wolf’s Revenge
They tried to erase her. They left her for dead. They never imagined she’d come back to claim their kingdom, with a wolf at her side.
Chapter 1: The Humiliation
The silver bracelet glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights of the assembly hall, a tiny star of impossible wealth. Principal Morrison held it between his thumb and forefinger as if it were a venomous snake. “Ms.
Ayana Chen, please stand.”
His voice boomed through the microphone, echoing off the polished gymnasium floor. Three hundred heads turned in unison. Three hundred pairs of eyes fixed on me, the charity case in the third-hand uniform two sizes too big.
I rose from the hard plastic chair, my knees weak. “This bracelet,” Morrison’s voice dropped, thick with theatrical gravity, “worth twelve thousand dollars, was found in your locker. It belongs to Mrs.
Blackwood.”
A collective gasp rippled through the student body. From the front row, Nathaniel Blackwood, golden-haired and seventeen, smirked. His father, Police Chief Blackwood, stood beside the principal, his uniform crisp, his hand resting casually on the butt of his service weapon.
“I didn’t…” My voice was a tiny, cracking thing. “I’ve never seen that before.”
“Typical,” came a stage whisper from the front row. “Charity case thought she could get away with it.”
My heart hammered against my ribs.
I looked at Nathaniel, pleading with my eyes. His smirk only widened. Chief Blackwood took a step forward.
“Ayana Chen, you’re under arrest for grand theft.”
The handcuffs he produced were cold against my wrists. The click of the metal locking was the loudest sound I had ever heard. It was the sound of my life ending.
Someone laughed. A high, cruel bark. Then another joined in.
Soon, the entire hall was a roaring sea of mockery. “Thief!”
“Orphan garbage!”
Through the hot blur of tears, I saw it. Nathaniel, pulling out his phone.
The little red light was on. He was recording my complete destruction. His lips moved, forming silent words I could read perfectly: You’re.
Nothing. Forty-eight hours later, they let me go. No evidence, they said.
But the damage was done. My foster parents had already left my life in a black garbage bag on their porch. My scholarship was gone.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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