Chapter 3
Isadora’s POV
As it turned out, when the Elder learned I was donating my eyes to Calliope, he sensed something was amiss and launched an investigation of his own.
The results proved it—Calliope's blindness was not my doing.
She had injured her own eyes just to frame me.
When the Elder made his findings public, the entire pack erupted.
"Oh my god, Calliope blinded herself?"
"That's pure evil! She'd hurt herself just to frame her own sister?"
"The Luna is the real victim here! She was nearly condemned for something she didn't do!"
The internet exploded with condemnation of Calliope.
"Isadora! Are you even listening to me?" Mother's hysterical voice screeched through the phone.
"Bring that diamond necklace and get to the hospital. Now!"
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone in my hand and let out a bitter laugh.
Even if the whole world knew I was innocent, in their eyes, I was still the one who should make concessions.
I arrived at the hospital with the necklace.
The moment I stepped into Calliope's room, I was met with the cold blade of Tristan's glare.
"Isadora." His voice simmered with barely contained rage. "Quite the little schemer, aren't you?"
"If you didn't want Calliope to see again, you should have just said so!" He advanced on me, step by step. "Instead of going behind our backs and leaking this to the press!"
"Do you have any idea what you've done? Calliope is showing signs of depression because of this!"
He jabbed a finger toward the bed, where Calliope lay curled into a ball, trembling.
"She keeps crying, saying she doesn't want to live anymore! This is all your fault!"
No matter what happened, it was always my fault.
A surge of anger rose from deep within me.
"Tristan." I met his gaze head-on. "The Elder has produced evidence proving that Calliope blinded herself and framed me for it."
"And you still want me to give her my eyes?"
The room fell deathly silent.
"Isadora..." Mother spoke up. "Even if... even if this was Calliope's mistake, look at how much she's suffering now."
"She's being ripped apart online. She's on the verge of a breakdown..."
"And you? All you're losing is a pair of eyes."
All I'm losing is a pair of eyes?
"Exactly." Father chimed in. "You're the Alpha's wife. Even without your sight, you'll have Omegas to attend to your every need."
"You'll live a perfectly comfortable life."
"But Calliope is different. Her ex-husband abandoned her, and now she's being crucified by public opinion because of you... She has it so much worse."
I looked at them, unable to utter a single word.
Even with irrefutable evidence. Even with the truth laid bare.
They still stood by Calliope.
In their eyes, my sight, my innocence, my very life—none of it mattered as much as Calliope's grievances.
"Isadora." Tristan's voice cut through the silence. "You need to make a public statement and clear this up."
I turned to face him.
"Tell everyone this was all a misunderstanding," he said. "Then announce that you're donating your eyes to Calliope of your own free will."
My mind drifted back to the early days of our marriage.
He used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, promising to cherish me for the rest of our lives.
But everything changed after Calliope's husband left her and she started coming around more often.
Tristan grew colder toward me with each passing day, yet warmer toward her.
The day I lost our baby, all he said was, "There will be others."
Then he went to comfort Calliope.
Because she had been "frightened."
I pulled myself back to the present and surveyed the room.
Father. Mother. Tristan. And there on the bed, the ever-pitiful Calliope.
They were all waiting for me to speak.
Waiting for me to give in.
Waiting for me to do what I had always done—apologize, surrender, step aside.
"Fine. I'll make the statement."
Mother exhaled with relief. "There. That's more like it."
Father nodded. "Isadora, it's good to see you're being sensible about this."
I said nothing. I simply turned and walked toward the door.
"Oh—" I paused and set the box in my hand on the table. "The necklace is here."
Half an hour later, a video began circulating across every news outlet.
In it, I faced the camera, my expression calm.
"Regarding the rumors that have been spreading online, I would like to make a clarification."
"There was no scheme between my sister Calliope and myself. This has all been a misunderstanding."
"As for the eye donation—it is entirely my choice. No one has forced me into this."
"I hope everyone will stop attacking my sister."
Within thirty minutes, the tide of public opinion had completely reversed.
Calliope transformed from "that vicious woman" into "a poor soul who was wrongly accused."
And I went from "the victim" to "the noble, selfless little sister."
I had buried the truth with my own hands.
Along with my last shred of hope.
