The Girl He Sold Returned As The King’s Mate Chapter 09
Someone asked me why I still remembered Adrian.
Because the people who bought me could change my name, but they couldn’t make me forget the first person who put a price on me.
When I was twelve, I escaped.
The local Pack security saw the number on my ankle and the forged guardianship papers in their system.
The officer on duty didn’t call child protective services. He took a bribe from the owner and sent me back, logging me as a runaway employee.
That time, they broke two of my ribs. I couldn’t stand up straight for three months.
My wolf, suppressed by wolfsbane for so long, couldn’t heal me properly. My wounds healed slower than a human’s. Every time I tried to shift, the drugs in the shackle would knock me unconscious.
When I was sixteen, an epidemic swept through the garment factory.
The owner, terrified the Pack health department would shut him down, herded all the sick illegal workers into an abandoned warehouse and left us there to die.
The Healer who saved me was named Miriam Sutton.
She risked her license to get me out, demanding that local security transfer me to a hospital instead of back to the factory.
She was the one who cut the suppressor shackle from my ankle. She treated my old rib fractures and the nerve damage from the wolfsbane. She taught me how to identify medications, how to document injuries, how to read public notices.
The first time I signed my name on a document that was actually mine, my hand shook so badly I could barely hold the pen.
Miriam never pushed me to tell her my real name.
She only said that if I wasn’t ready, I could be Naomi Sutton for now.
It was the first time in seven years anyone had given me a choice.
Later, I followed her to the Blackridge border to do medical relief work. That’s where I met Elliot, before he formally took the throne.
I didn’t walk into the Royal Castle from some cushy, privileged life.
It took me thirteen years to walk out of that secret ledger.
The chamber was so quiet you could hear the rustle of paper.
One by one, the students who had signed petitions for Adrian lowered their heads.
I looked at Daniel.
“You asked if I’m Evelyn.”
“By blood and by the record, yes.”
“But the little girl who used to throw her arms around your neck and call you Dad… she’s been gone a very long time.”