01

POV: LYA

Just half an hour ago, my adoptive mother, Aurora, ascended the creaking stairs that led to the secluded loft where I had been relegated.

Her footsteps, accompanied by an oppressive silence, reverberated through the dimly lit space, sending shivers down my spine. With a dress in her hands, she approached me, her expression twisted with a mixture of disdain and loathing.

As she gazed upon me, her eyes held a contempt that cut to the core of my being. It was as if I were a repugnant parasite, an unwelcome burden staining the fabric of her carefully constructed existence.

The weight of her disgust hung heavy in the air, suffocating any remnants of self-worth that lingered within me.

"Lya," she uttered my name with a cold detachment, the syllables dripping with disdain, "change into this dress. Today is your birthday party." Her words were laden with a venomous command, a reminder of the performative charade that awaited me.

The expectation was clear: I was to play the role of a grateful and compliant daughter, obediently adhering to the script of a life that was never truly mine.

Aurora's reminder of what I should and should not say echoed through the stifling silence of the loft. It was a stark reminder of the constraints that bound me, a constant reminder that my voice was to be silenced, my true thoughts and emotions buried beneath a carefully crafted facade.

To speak out, to reveal the truth, would risk further alienation and retribution.

At that moment, I felt the weight of my existence bear down upon me, the suffocating pressure of expectations and the erasure of my identity. I was but a marionette, manipulated by the hands of those who deemed themselves the arbiters of my destiny.

As I reached out to take the dress from Aurora's outstretched hand, I felt a surge of rebellion welling up within me. It was a flickering ember of defiance, a spark that dared to challenge the darkness that had enveloped my spirit. But with trembling fingers, I held back, fearful of the consequences that would follow such an act of defiance.

Silently, I nodded in acquiescence, my gaze averted, the weight of her disappointment hanging over me like a shroud. At that moment, I made a silent vow to myself – a vow to endure, to preserve the flickering flame of my true self amidst the suffocating expectations and disdainful gazes.

As I began to change into the dress, my reflection in the dusty mirror revealed a young woman caught between the desires of others and the yearning for her voice. With each article of clothing that adorned my body, I became a living embodiment of the mask I was expected to wear.

In the shadows, I clung to the fragments of my true self, nurturing the resilience that burned within me. And as I prepared myself to descend into the realm of celebration and pretense, I vowed to hold onto that flicker of defiance, to reclaim my identity, and to find solace in the depths of my own truth, even in the face of adversity.

**

In the majestic expanse of the grand reception hall, I found myself stationed, as a mere observer amidst the swirling sea of guests. An overwhelming sense of anticipation gripped my every fiber, rendering me incapable of uttering a single word.

"Ah, dear Lya, you're just as radiant as you were last year. Honestly, you ought to express your gratitude to your adoptive parents. Were it not for their benevolence, you might not even be a part of this world anymore."

A middle-aged gentleman, who bore a somewhat familiar resemblance, beamed at me and lifted the glass in his hand, presumably a friend of Damon, my adoptive father.

"Thank you for the kind words. Lya has brought us immeasurable happiness as well, and we have always regarded her as our own daughter," responded Aurora, her countenance displaying a gentle smile, concealing any trace of deceit despite her slightly plump face.

My adoptive father stood by my side and took me by the shoulders to add, "We love Lya even more than Kendall."

Standing in the presence of my adoptive family, Kendall, their biological daughter, joined the chorus of admiration and gratitude, her smile radiating warmth and acceptance.

She chimed in, "Yes, I love Lya as well and I'm incredibly thankful that she was part of my parents' lives for two years before I was even born."

The room brimmed with whispered conversations, as guests marveled at the extraordinary compassion that coursed through the veins of this remarkable couple. They were lauded for their boundless capacity to shower their adopted daughter, me, with a love that surpassed even the depths of thewn flesh and blood.

As I stood there, a mere pawn in this intricately woven tapestry of familial affection, my gaze met the eyes of the assembled guests. Their eyes shone with admiration, their voices hushed as they exchanged whispered remarks, awestruck by the selflessness and devotion that emanated from this family.

With lifeless eyes, I was guided by my adoptive parents to greet the assembled guests, each one admiring the attire I wore and emphasizing the need to repay the kindness of this benevolent couple.

But behind the facade of admiration and gratitude, a chilling truth loomed. My once-vibrant spirit had been extinguished, replaced by lifeless eyes that concealed the weight of my suffering. The truth of my existence was veiled by the grandeur of the reception hall, where appearances masked the stark realities that lay beneath.

I forced the corners of my mouth to curl upwards, mustering a decent smile.

Before Kendall's arrival, my adoptive parents and I did share moments of genuine happiness. However, everything changed with Kendall's birth.

From that moment on, Aurora and Damon began to resent the idea that my laughter might disturb Kendall or that I could potentially transmit germs to her, simply by being in cnearbyhat is when my once bright and spacious room transformed into a dark, damp attic, where I found myself lying on a blanket among mice, deprived of a proper bed. My room became Kendall's domain, used exclusively for her dolls.

"Seriously, you can't treat poor Kendall like that. Lya is a child you took in. Kendall is just a sixteen-year-old girl; she'll be devastated," admonished a bearded man, his gaze filled with disdain and reproach directed at me.

He was Kendall's mentor, who had warned me multiple times not to dare bully Kendall or believe that being showered with love by my adoptive parents made me superior to her.

Yes, in the eyes of outsiders, I became the despised intruder, taking advantage of my adoptive parents' affection and tormenting their own daughter.

Although the wounds inflicted on my body by Kendall's hands or various tools continued to ache, I could not confide in anyone. Even if I did, no one would believe me.

Naturally, I was well aware of that. On the day of my seventh birthday party, I confided in a young boy about the hardships I endured within this family. Therefore, Aurora locked me in the attic for three days without food or water.

Perhaps Aurora would have let me starve to death if I hadn't cried and promised to go and explain to that little boy that it was all a fabricated lie, an attempt to gain his attention.

Running away from this family had crossed my mind, but I was merely approaching my eighteenth birthday and had yet to awaken my inner strength.

Lost in my thoughts, I failed to realize that we had been standing in front of an elderly man with gray hair for quite some time until my adoptive father, Damon, pinched my waist.

"Lya, what are you thinking about? It's not appropriate for a young lady to wander off in front of guests," Damon cautioned, his eyes filled with a warning, yet his smile appeared so kind.

Whenever there were outsiders present, this couple in my family would adopt such contrasting expressions and eyes, reflecting emotions far different from their inner thoughts.

"Yes, I apologize, Father," I replied, folding my hands in front of me and shielding my waist with my arms, determined to prevent Damon from laying his hands on me again. The pain from his pinch was intense, and I could already envision the red marks it would leave.

"Come, say hello to Uncle Nicholas," Damon extended his hand, pointing towards the old man with white hair, his tone filled with respect.

I gazed at his outstretched hand, while "Uncle Nicholas" smiled at me, yet his gaze held a multitude of emotions I could not comprehend. My intuition told me that it was not the affection an elder should display towards a junior. Furthermore, his age hardly warranted the title of "uncle." It would be more appropriate to refer to him as "grandpa."

"Damon, you're frightening Lya. There's no need to be so stern with such a lovely young girl," Nicholas addressed Damon, but his eyes remained fixated on me.

"You're right, Nicholas," Damon turned his attention to me, "Lya, why don't you go find Aurora? She seems to have something to discuss with you."

I followed Damon's finger to where Aurora stood in the doorway of the ballroom, offering me a kind smile. When our eyes met, she waved at me.

A sense of unease washed over me, but I had no choice but to heed Damon's instructions.

"Lya, I believe you've met Nicholas. He's a delightful gentleman, wouldn't you agree?" Aurora guided me into the room filled with dolls that, in the eyes of others, still belonged to me.

For me, it was the first time in years that I had stepped foot into this room since I was two years old.

I observed the dolls that populated the space, their faces frozen in stiff and insincere smiles, mirroring the facade my family maintained in front of outsiders.

"Yes," I responded, nervously clutching the hem of my skirt, feeling the delicate texture of the silk against my fingertips, a stark contrast to the rough garments I typically wore.

"After the party concludes, Nicholas will be staying, and I want you to take Damon's and my place and treat him well, understood?" Aurora's voice carried an air of authority.

"Treat him?" I was puzzled, unsure of what she meant. Since that incident when I was seven, Aurora and Damon never left me alone with guests, fearing that I might say something that would prove too much for them to handle.

"Yes, treat, with your body." Aurora's tone was relaxed, as if she is talking about what is for dinner tonight.

"I... I can't believe what I'm hearing," I stammered, my mind struggling to comprehend Aurora's words.

She wanted me, an eighteen-year-old girl, to engage in intimate relations with an older man?

No, it could not be true.

"How can you not understand? Nicholas is one of GreyStone Pack Alpha's trusted advisors. I do not see why you should feel aggrieved. Besides, it's time for you to repay the kindness Damon and I have shown you," Aurora casually explained, as if discussing a mundane topic like dinner plans.

"Haven't I already done enough to repay you? Since Kendall was born, I have been treated like a servant by all three of you! And now you want to exploit my body?" A wave of shock washed over me, momentarily causing me to forget my fear of Aurora as I instinctively shouted at her.

"Damn it, Lya! Are you insane?" Aurora lunged forward, forcefully covering my mouth with her strong hand. "You'll attract attention from all the guests!"

Her grip was so tight that it felt like my breath was being squeezed out of me. At that moment, I realized the intent behind Nicholas's gaze, akin to that of a wolf fixated on its prey with hunger and desire.

Just as I was about to suffocate, Aurora finally released her grip, and I collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air. Tears streamed down my face, dampening the ground beneath me.

"Lya, tell me now, are you willing to comply? Will you repay our kindness, or will you become a despised white-eyed wolf in everyone's eyes?" Aurora looked down at me, her eyes filled with the condescending certainty of control. "Don't forget what happened when you were seven."

Yes, at the tender age of seven, I had already been labeled a white-eyed wolf by others, accused of slandering and seeking attention by fabricating stories about my adoptive parents.

Even if I were to reveal the truth, no one would believe me. They would only view me as someone tarnishing the image of the kind couple, Damon and Aurora.

"Fine, I promise," I uttered with a heavy sigh, my voice laced with despair.

As an eighteen-year-old who had not even awakened my wolf instincts, I felt trapped, left with no choice but to reluctantly agree.

"Come on! Get up, straighten your clothes, and put on your sweetest smile," Aurora commanded, her tone dripping with disgust.

As she closed the bedroom door and walked away, Aurora added, "I'll give you only three minutes."

I quickly wiped away the tears on my face and stood up, mustering the strength to open the door. To my surprise, I found someone unexpected standing there.

It was Miguel, who appeared out of nowhere. He was the heir to the GreyStone Pack's alpha position and the same little boy who had listened to my tales of misfortune when we were both seven years old.

The once young boy with blue eyes had grown into a tall and powerful man. His arms were muscular, and the veins coursing through them added a touch of allure. At that moment, he stood by the window with a glass of wine, gazing absently outside.

Miguel possessed strength, handsomeness, and a noble status. I had no doubt that he was the object of affection for more than half of the teenage girls in the GreyStone Pack, myself included.

However, considering the situation with the white-haired Nicholas, I did not want to invite any more trouble. I gathered my skirt and cautiously walked in the direction of the ballroom, hoping to avoid catching Miguel's attention.

"Wait," Miguel's voice called out from behind me, stopping me in my tracks.

I stood there, feeling unsure of how to respond. Miguel's words caught me off guard, as he spoke in his gentle voice, "I apologize if this sounds presumptuous, but from the moment you appeared, there was a mysterious connection I felt. Can you comprehend what I mean? I believe you may be my mate."

Me? Just a girl who had not even fully awakened my own wolf at the age of 18? Yet Miguel, the future alpha heir of the GreyStone Pack, suggested that I could be his mate?

My mind was overwhelmed with astonishment, and in that instant, I could not help but indulge in the fantasy of what it would be like if Miguel's words held true.

"Please turn around, so I can be certain," Miguel requested politely, demonstrating his gentlemanly demeanor. Instead of approaching me directly, he respected my personal space, deepening my admiration for this future alpha of the GreyStone Pack.

My face burned with embarrassment, and without needing a mirror, I knew it must be flushed with color.

"Okay," I whispered in response. Although it had been twelve years since Miguel and I had last seen each other during that staged event, I had heard about his endeavors through others. It was his heroic deeds that had sparked my admiration for this future alpha of the GreyStone Pack.

I turned around slowly, hoping to conceal the intensity of the redness on my face.

As Miguel and I locked eyes, a peculiar sensation washed over me. It felt fated, as if he was right in his belief that we were meant to be mates.

I could barely contain my tears of joy, as it meant I could be saved. Miguel, the heir to the GreyStone Pack's alpha position, was my mate, while Nicholas, that wretched man, was merely an assistant to the current alpha.

With Miguel's recognition and support, I would not have to sacrifice myself and offer my body to repay my hypocritical adoptive parents.

However, I noticed a tinge of disgust in Miguel's gaze. It was a look I encountered countless times from Aurora within these walls. I was certain that Miguel, too, held a sense of repulsion towards me.

Shit.

I could not comprehend why Miguel was looking at me that way. My hands clenched together tightly, causing my fingertips to turn pale. Taking a step forward, my voice quivered with nervousness as I addressed him, "Miguel..."

"Wait, lady," Miguel held up his hand and took two steps back, separating himself from me, "I want you to stay away from me."

I stood there in disbelief, unable to comprehend Miguel's words. "Wait, why?" I managed to utter, my voice trembling with confusion.

Miguel held up his hand, taking a few steps back, creating distance between us. "I want you to stay away from me," he declared.

"Why?" My voice wavered, struggling to maintain control. Miguel was my only lifeline in this situation, and I could not understand why he was pushing me away. "I'm your mate, we chose each other."

"Disgusting," Miguel responded with a furrowed brow and a cold tone.

"What?" I could not believe my ears.

Did Miguel just call me disgusting?