Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen-Chapter 146: A Reason

Lethia’s eyes widened, and her neck stiffened with tension. "Wh–what are you talking about?"

Varrel laughed again, laced with mockery, like he was savouring the confusion on her face.

"Oh dear, I didn’t expect you to be this naive. Lethia, the one who never trusted anyone, so easily swayed just because she couldn’t control the heat coming from her own womb?" His mocking laughter made her stomach churn.

"Just tell me what you know. I’m not in the mood for your cheap jokes," she spat, her voice dripping with disgust.

Varrel let go of her, and Lethia instantly shifted, pressing herself against the car door.

"The papers you read at Terressa’s house, Zeran Tuffin already knew about it. By now, he’s probably interrogating that assassin. Or maybe he already killed him... to hide the real person who gave the order."

Lethia turned her glare to his infuriating face. "The real one? And who the hell is that?" she snapped, impatient.

Varrel smirked, his hazel eyes softening as they looked at her—yet that only made her want to vomit.

"A woman. Hmm... let’s just say, his woman. You didn’t know? He has someone he once swore to protect with his life. And that woman... she’s the reason why you ended up carrying Zeran’s pup in the first place."

Lethia’s jaw dropped. Her pupils darted around in disbelief, and she blinked hard, like a lost pup. That expression only made Varrel laugh harder, thoroughly entertained.

"Oh, Lethia... you really didn’t know that part, did you? And you still want to marry a man who hid the truth about your misfortune? Has pregnancy made you stupid?" His laughter boomed in the car, wicked and victorious.

Lethia turned her gaze out the window. Her fingers curled up the hem of her skirt. She bit the inside of her lip, hard. Her mind was a fucking mess.

Still staring at the line of trees skimming past the hillside road that felt far too familiar, she said, "You’re lying." Her voice came out cold. "Why should I trust you?"

Varrel scoffed. "I’m not asking you to trust me. It’s just the truth. Thanks to Adam, who worked his arse off digging into all this shit. And it’s thanks to you too, sweetheart, that he even made it onto Zeran’s aide team." He paused, "And me? I’m just the messenger of truth for you."

Lethia gripped her skirt tighter. Her blood felt like it was boiling, but the words stuck in her throat. She kept repeating it in her head—don’t believe him, don’t fall for Varrel’s manipulation. She still clung to the hope that Zeran was the one person she could trust. But Varrel’s words... they kept digging deeper, feeding her doubt. fгeewёbnoѵel_cσm

"Here. You trust your eyes more than words, right?" Varrel held out his tablet, dropping it onto her lap.

The moment her eyes caught the screen, her heart dropped. Her pulse quickened as Varrel slid through the gallery, photo after photo flashing before her.

Zeran, with a woman, shoulder-length golden-blonde hair. The photos looked old. He wore a casual t-shirt and jeans, his hair tousled and carefree. So unlike the Zeran she knew, always dressed in suits, his hair slicked back neatly.

A bitter smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She realized that she’d never really known him at all.

It should’ve been fine. She should’ve been fine. Their relationship wasn’t even that deep. It shouldn’t matter.

But... why did it sting like hell in her chest?

"Why are you showing me this? My relationship with him was only because of this pup. And whoever that woman is... It’s none of my concern." Her cold voice clashed harshly with the heat swelling in her chest.

"Wait a bit. That was just the appetizer," Varrel said, still swiping.

His finger stopped at a collage of two photos. The one on the left showed Zeran standing in front of a hospital lobby. The right one showed the same golden-haired woman sitting inside that very same lobby, dressed in a patient gown, her face puffy like she’d just been crying.

"Ah, this. This is the main course. Look at the date," he said with a wicked grin.

Lethia’s gaze dropped to the timestamps in the corners of both photos—same day, same hour. Only the minute mark on Zeran’s photo was a bit earlier.

"And I’m pretty sure on that day, you were anxiously waiting for him at his mansion to come back from his business trip, weren’t you?" Varrel’s mocking tone sent a fresh wave of fury crawling under her skin.

Lethia gritted her teeth. "Get this away from me!" Her tone cut sharply, laced with rage.

Varrel swiftly took the tablet off her lap.

Lethia sucked in a deep breath, like she needed to exhale the whole damn storm swirling inside her chest.

Varrel’s annoying little giggle beside her made her want to slap the smirk off his face. But the speechless chaos choking her left no room to unleash that fury. She didn’t even know what the hell she was mad about anymore.

Was it because Zeran hadn’t been honest with her?

Because he had another woman?

Or... maybe it was both.

"You’ve got no idea how freaked out I was when I found out Zeran was the father of your pup," Varrel sneered. "Fucking Lana, that useless bitch dared to hide the fact that the sperm wasn’t Karmen’s."

Lethia let out a bitter chuckle. "Is that why you tossed her away like trash? Because she was useless to you after handing over all her wealth in Ashenhold?"

She turned to Varrel, and their eyes locked. From the flicker in his pupils and the way his expression shifted into something tense, Lethia knew she’d caught him off guard.

"How do I know?" she continued with a sly smirk. "Your face right now tells me everything. I was right. You just used her for your own gain. And I’m sure you also fabricated the cheating accusations."

The air between them thickened. Their gazes clashed—piercing, trying to stake claim on whose power would reign stronger.

A low, resigned chuckle escaped Varrel’s lips. He smiled and lowered his head.

"This is why no one deserves to stand beside me... except you, sweetheart."

When Varrel looked back up, his eyes had darkened, and that twisted smirk deepened, sending chills crawling down Lethia’s spine. She felt suffocated just breathing the same air as him.

"You’re sick!" she spat.

Suddenly, Varrel grabbed her chin roughly, his nails digging into her cheek. Lethia’s eyes widened in alarm, and she clutched at his arm, panicked and desperate to break free—but her struggle was useless.

He leaned in until his hot, foul breath fanned against her face, and said in a low, sultry whisper, "This is why I love you."

Then, with brutal force, he yanked her in, and their lips crashed. Hard. Violent.

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