Amelia’s POV
The morning sunlight pours across the packhouse gardens, warm and golden, yet all it does is remind me how deceptive appearances can be. To anyone watching, this place looks peaceful: children laughing, omegas bustling, the Alpha present with his family. But beneath it, currents of unease run like rivers. Elsa is the storm at the edge of it all, circling closer every day, and I cannot shake the knowledge that her story does not add up. I busy myself with small tasks, arranging flowers in a vase, checking over the children’s lessons, keeping my hands moving so no one suspects how tightly wound I am inside. Every time Elsa passes through a doorway, my body stiffens. She smiles too sweetly, stands too close to Ryan, and lingers too long when the triplets are near. All of it calc
