The Birth Of A Schemer

The air in Samantha’s room was stifling with rage.

Silken curtains flared with each gust of wind that slipped through the cracked-open windows, but it did nothing to cool the storm brewing in her chest. Her long nails dug into the plush arm of the velvet chair she sat in, trembling with barely controlled fury.

"Rina? Rina, of all people…?" 

Samantha’s lips twisted bitterly as her mother’s words from earlier still echoed in her ears—sharp, cold, unforgiving.

“You had him in the palm of your hand. And what did you do, Samantha? You threw it away because of petty pride, and flirting around with his own brother. Do you know how many women would kill to stand beside a man like Theo? Especially now?”

Those words didn’t hurt—they burned.

Her pride, her ego, her carefully crafted image—it had all been shattered the moment she heard the news: Theo, the same boy she used to mock behind his back and cheated severally on, the one she dismissed as beneath her, had now been appointed Alpha of a whole damn pack.

And not just any pack... Dam-Nighade.

The same pack her father had long eyed with greedy admiration, hoping to one day climb into its upper circles if only alpha Damian should sent him over.

Now Rina—Rina, the meek little healer—was set to become his Luna?

"Never..." 

With a loud clatter, Samantha kicked over the silver lunch tray a servant had brought in. The roasted meat, bread, and wine spilled across the marble floor like a ruined banquet.

She shot up to her feet, eyes wild, her breath uneven.

The maid, a young girl barely older than seventeen, stood frozen by the door.

“You call that a meal?” Samantha snarled. “Are you trying to poison me?! Is this what you give to me?!”

The girl stammered, “I-It’s what the kitchen gave me, Lady Samantha—”

"What did you just called me?" Samantha asked, her eyes turning red.

"Lady... Lad... lady Samantha..." The terrified maid stuttered.

"What! Lady Samantha..? I'm Theo's future Luna, you fool..? How dare you address me as Lady Samantha...?"

But Samantha was already moving. She grabbed the girl by the arm and shoved her against the wall.

“You worthless mutt! I should have you flogged!”

And then—she snapped.

Her fists came down in a blur. The maid screamed, shielding herself as Samantha pulled her to the floor and began beating her mercilessly—hair flying, nails digging, fists swinging.

It wasn’t just rage—it was humiliation, projection, desperation. Everything that had been building since the moment she heard Theo had risen above her.

“You think you're better than me? You think Rina is better than me?!” she screamed.

"Lu... Lu.. Luna... Samantha... I am sorry ..!" The maid cried out, her voice barely carrying under the weight of Samantha’s fury.

Suddenly, the door flung open.

“Samantha!” her mother’s voice rang like a whip.

She stood there, her elegant gown unwrinkled, hair pinned perfectly despite the chaos before her. This wasn’t the first time she had walked into such a scene. In fact, it was the third time this week.

But this time, she didn’t shout.

She stood still, arms crossed, watching her daughter on top of the bleeding maid, breathing hard, eyes gleaming with a cruel sort of joy.

After a long pause, she said coolly, “That’s enough.”

Samantha blinked, panting, before slowly rising to her feet. Blood stained her knuckles. Her eyes still burned with fury.

The maid, bruised and trembling, crawled away toward the door.

But just as she reached the threshold, Samantha’s mother raised a hand.

“Stop.” The maid froze.

“Listen up... you worthless maid.. You didn’t see anything,” she said, voice calm, but sharp as a dagger. “And if you value your tongue—or your life—you won’t utter a single word about what just happened. Did I made myself clearer enough, stupid slave...?”

The girl turned to her with wide, teary eyes, clutching her bloody mouth, then gave a small, terrified nod before scrambling away.

Once the door shut, Samantha’s mother finally turned to her daughter, walking slowly to her side.

She looked down at Samantha’s trembling hands. Then up into her furious, unstable gaze.

“You’re losing control, my dear,” she said, almost gently. “And I don’t blame you. Watching someone like Rina get what should have been yours? It’s maddening.”

Samantha’s lower lip trembled, then curled with hate. “I want to kill her.”

Her mother raised an eyebrow, a calculating look forming on her face.

“You don’t need to kill her. You need to outsmart her.”

She took Samantha’s bloodied hand and squeezed it, as if this moment of violence had solidified something between them.

“Since we now know that Theo’s been appointed Alpha of the Dam-Nighade Pack,” her mother whispered. “And they’re still rebuilding… vulnerable… ripe for chaos. If you play this right, you won’t just ruin Rina. You’ll become what you should’ve been all along—Luna.”

Samantha blinked, breathing harder as the idea took root. “But how, mother?”

Her mother smiled coldly.

“We’ll send word that you’ve gone to stay with your cousins still within the pack here, just to avoid your father's wrath. Besides, your father doesn’t need to know the truth. Not yet.”

She leaned in closer.

“And you… you’ll go there not as Samantha, the ex-girlfriend. You’ll go as someone desperate, humbled by war… and hungry to serve. A mere kitchen maid. Invisible, underestimated.”

Samantha’s eyes glinted.

She liked the sound of that.

“Let the little healer's apprentice enjoy her moment,” she whispered to herself, a sick grin spreading on her face. “Because soon, I’ll be the one wearing the crown.”