My lungs had completely given out from silver poisoning, yet my billionaire Alpha sister, Valerie Carter, donated a single dollar to my hospice fundraiser. Beneath the donation, she left a comment. Valerie: Lung failure? Let me know when you're actually dead. I'll pop champagne to celebrate. Four years ago, Myron Vance, a rogue werewolf she sponsored, accused me of stealing his guaranteed admission spot to medical college. Valerie forced me to withdraw, stripped away my pack benefits, and threw me out of the packhouse of the Black Pine territory. She said I could only come home when I was willing to apologize to Myron. I never did. So every time I found a job, she ruined it. In the end, the biological sister of the Black Pine Alpha was reduced to dragging a torn sack through the rainy nights of Grayhaven, picking up half-empty soda cans strangers had left behind. Meanwhile, Myron moved into my bedroom and drove the new car my sister bought him. I stared at Valerie's comment for a long time. Then, I called Arthur Bell, the cemetery caretaker. "That plot right against the fence—please hold it for me. I'll pay the deposit tomorrow." The one dollar she donated happened to complete my fundraising goal. I canceled my treatment appointment and signed my name, Faye Carter, on the burial authorization form.