After I finally located my first draft, I placed it carefully on the desk, the weight of it heavier than paper should ever feel. The truth was clear, even if it didn't help me—this document could prove creation, but not ownership timing in a territorial dispute.
"This is my original draft," I said quietly, tracing the edges with my fingers, "but it won't prove I didn't plagiarize."
The system timestamp was still against me. Savill had already secured their claim through earlier public exposure, which meant they held the advantage in any pack-level judgment of creative ownership.
Elliot didn't hesitate.
"I believe you."
The certainty in his voice hit harder than the accusation ever did.
I let out a small, strained breath and gave him a sideways look. "You really trust me that much?"
His gaze didn't waver. "If I can't trust my own mate, then I have no reason to trust anything at all."
