Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen
Chapter 123: Her Stalker Zeran

Chapter 123: Her Stalker Zeran

Lethia stripped off her clothes and headed for a shower. In two weeks, her pregnancy would reach the third month.

Yet the reflection staring back at her in the mirror already made her look four, maybe even five months along.

At this rate, just like her obstetrician had warned, she could end up giving birth by her sixth month.

A sheer spark of excitement danced in her eyes and played on her lips as she smiled at her swollen belly.

The thought of finally meeting her baby thrilled her. And if her plan to bring down Varrel went smoothly, she could give birth peacefully at the Ashcroft ranch in the countryside.

Lethia decided on a cold shower for now. She had already planned a warm bath for later that night once the Gala was over.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t drag on until midnight. She’d been feeling too tired and sleepy lately—she just wanted to crawl into bed and cuddle up with Zeran.

She let the water cascade over her skin while biting her lower lip, annoyed at herself for being this clingy with Zeran every night.

But despite the heat driving her urges, the moment Zeran wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, that craving always melted into something else.

Her lewd heat dissolved into a soft warmth that flooded through her body and relaxed her entirely.

However, each morning she woke only to find him gone from her side. It left her aching, craving him all over again.

The doctor had told her she’d keep feeling that way until the sex pheromone bond was performed. Not just skin-to-skin energy exchange, but the sacred mating... and knotting.

Truth be told, if Zeran proposed to her again right now, Lethia might’ve just given in.

Despite all her trust issues, he had this way of making her feel safe, not just physically, but... beyond something she couldn’t quite name.

Because no matter what, like he had said, he would never hurt his baby. And somehow... that was enough. It was enough to make her trust him.

But since their damn pride had already clashed and the deal was made—marriage after she reclaimed her ranch—she just had to wait it out.

She could’ve said yes just for the baby’s sake, right? It wasn’t a big deal. Supposedly.

When Lethia stepped out of the bathroom, the two assistants were already set to doll her up. They’d arranged their full beauty-war tools in front of the vanity mirror, ready for battle.

"Ah, I hope I’m not making you bored waiting," she said with a dry smile, half-forced but polite enough.

"We’re good, Miss. Please, sit here. And my name is Viona, this is Clara."

This woman, named Viona, looked refined, elegant, with her emerald bun tightly knotted. Clara seemed younger, sweet-looking with her jet-black bob and soft bangs kissing her forehead.

As Lethia walked over and dropped her arse onto the vanity chair, a soft lavender scent curled into her nose. She was pretty sure it came from these two assistants.

"You two smell nice... and the same?" she blurted out with honest curiosity.

Clara simply smiled and met her eyes, then began dabbing Lethia’s face with a damp cotton pad.

A cool sensation kissed her cheeks, and she caught a strange blend of coconut and calendula brushing past her nose. Lethia flinched slightly at the odd combo in the toner.

"No need to worry, Miss. That was a natural toner made from coconut water and calendula flower extract. Every product we’re using on you today is entirely pregnancy-safe," Viona explained smoothly. "And yes, we both wear a natural lavender fragrance. It’s your favourite, isn’t it? It’s part of our service to make the client feel comfortable."

Lethia blinked at her explanation, finding it oddly amusing.

Did they actually do research beforehand? She was impressed.

The attention to detail really did make her feel comfortable.

It was only then she noticed—the calming lavender scent had always lingered in the bedroom and the bathroom.

She chuckled to herself. Of course, the stalker Zeran wouldn’t have missed something like this.

The two assistants wasted no time getting to work. Clara took charge of her makeup, while Viona started styling her hair.

"This is your first time attending the Gala, right?" Viona asked, combing through her strands.

"Yes." And it wasn’t even by choice. Lethia had zero interest in the Gala, but Zeran had insisted.

"What kind of look do you want to present tonight, Miss?" Viona’s question left her pausing.

"What do you mean?"

She caught Viona’s slight smile in the mirror.

"The Lykon Gala is a place where no one speaks or acts according to how they truly feel. They act based on what they want others to believe about them. And... that begins with how you present yourself."

Lethia just blinked in response as Clara smoothed base makeup across her cheeks.

But her silence came more from the question itself—what kind of appearance did she want to show?

As if sensing that Lethia wasn’t ignoring the question but rather contemplating it, Clara paused her movements for a moment.

Feeling like everyone was waiting for her answer, Lethia cleared her throat before finally speaking.

"I’m not there to draw attention," she said. "But that’s impossible, right?" She let out a dry chuckle. "If that’s the case, then give me a look that shows I’m proud of my pregnancy."

Viona and Clara exchanged a smile. "If you say so, Miss..." Viona replied softly.

For the next two hours, the two women worked on her appearance with an intense level of focus and detail that left Lethia quietly amazed.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror, eyeing her reflection with awe. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d dressed up like this—it had been that long.

Clara’s magic hands had created a flawless soft makeup look, though her eyes stood out sharply, enhanced by a commanding touch of winged liner.

Her full lips were coated in a rich nude terracotta shade that made Lethia want to kiss her own lips.

Her maroon hair had been swept up into an elegant bun, with a few curly strands left to dangle from the edges of her ears, framing her face perfectly.

The ivory one-shoulder gown hugged her body in all the right places, showcasing her baby bump like it was a crown jewel.

A daring slit traced up her left thigh, adding a bold confidence to the graceful silhouette.

The final touch came when Clara knelt and placed on a pair of soft velvet maroon wedges—comfortable, not too high, with a single jewel embellishment at the centre.

"Is this new?" Lethia asked, eyeing the shoes.

"Mr. Zeran specifically requested we prepare a pair of party shoes that would be comfortable for a pregnant woman, Miss. You can try them."

Something shimmered and fluttered in her belly. Lethia wasn’t sure if it was her baby doing a happy little somersault, or... butterflies, one by one, taking flight inside her.

Her rosy cheeks warmed even more, as she found herself—damn it—admiring her stalker Zeran again.

She slipped her foot into the shoe, and with just one try, it fit perfectly, like it had been crafted just for her.

"Is this a universal size?" Lethia asked, genuinely curious.

"It’s handmade, Miss. Specifically designed for your feet," Viona replied, her face glowing with satisfaction as she watched Lethia’s reaction.

Lethia blinked, a bit thrown off by the answer, but before she could ask anything else, Vonda appeared and reminded her that Zeran was already waiting downstairs.

As Clara handed her a small purse, she smiled, moving her hands and fingers in a way that resembled sign language. Lethia blinked again, slightly confused.

Then Clara pulled out her phone, typed quickly, and held the screen up for Lethia to read:

"I’m your fan. I’m a single mother, rejected by my mate two years ago. Seeing you reminds me of my own fight. I hope you’ll find your happiness, because I’ve found mine. Keep going!"

Lethia’s heart fluttered, a sudden rush of emotion crashing into her chest, making it beat faster than it should.

It was only then she realised—Clara was mute. Her throat tightened as she gently held Clara’s shoulders, lips forming a warm, heartfelt "thank you."

At this rate, Lethia believed what Chasey said, that her fans were growing.

Should she be proud? She honestly didn’t know how to wield the fame she had fallen into.

But Clara’s message lit a slow fire in her chest, a heat that spread until she stood a little taller.

With newfound pride, Lethia walked down the stairs. She held her head high, spine straight, and spirit burning just a little brighter.

Zeran, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, tapping his shoe impatiently, turned the moment he heard the sound of heels descending behind him.

And the moment his eyes landed on Lethia, his heart fucking dropped.

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