Chapter Eleven: The Man at the Table.

Avery's POV

The kitchen door slammed closed behind me as the guards shoved me inside.

I barely caught my balance before a sharp voice cut through the room.

“Avery.”

Marla stood near the main table, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes swept over me once, from my soaked hair to the water dripping from the hem of my dress, before she clicked her tongue.

“Well. You certainly know how to make an impression.”

A few of the servants snickered under their breath.

“Stand there dripping all night if you want,” Marla continued briskly, already turning back to the counter. “You heard the Alpha.”

She shoved a cutting board toward me.

“Vegetables. Now.”

I stepped forward and picked up the knife.

The room was suddenly very aware of me.

Someone behind me whispered, “That’s her… the one from the courtyard.”

“Shh,” another hissed quickly. “She might hear you.”

“I don’t care if she hears me,” the first voice snapped, low but venomous. “Everyone wants the Alpha’s attention. And what does she do? She disrespects him. Acts like she owns the place.”

“She got what she deserved,” another muttered. “The Alpha humbles those who think they can ignore him. I’d pay to see her reaction when he punishes her…. I can’t believe I missed it. I wanted to see her feel that sting of humiliation firsthand.”

A few others giggled softly, their eyes darting to me as they whispered. “Imagine being in his bed… and yet she dares to resist. Bold, or just stupid?”

Another voice answered, low and bitter, “I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat.”

I stiffened, my heart hammering. Every word pressed against my skin like a lash. Marla glanced up briefly, her sharp eyes sweeping the crowded kitchen.

“If you’re going to gossip, at least keep your hands moving.”

The room fell silent again, except for the clatter of knives and the hiss of boiling water. But I could still feel their eyes, their murmurs, their fascination with both me and the Alpha.

I swallowed hard and forced my hands to work, slicing and stirring. My damp hair slid forward over my shoulder. I shoved it back impatiently and kept cutting.

“Chop it thinner.” Marla snapped.

I tightened my grip on the knife and adjusted the slices without looking up.

“Like this?” I muttered.

Marla leaned over the counter, eyeing the board for a moment before giving a short nod. “Better. The Alpha doesn’t like chewing through half a vegetable.”

Oil hit the pan with a loud hiss as Marla poured it in.

“Garlic,” she barked, holding out her hand.

I passed it to her. She tossed it into the pan. The smell filled the kitchen instantly.

“Stir the stew,” she ordered next.

I moved to the large pot and grabbed the wooden spoon. Steam rose around my face as I stirred the thickening broth.

Marla jerked her chin toward the sink. “You. Wash those before they dry.”

The servant scrambled to obey.

After a moment, Marla glanced sideways at me. “Don’t burn it.”

“I won’t,” I replied under my breath.

The stew thickened slowly as the vegetables softened in the broth.

Minutes passed.

“The food is ready, ma'am.” I said, calling Marla’s attention.

Marla glanced over from the stove, wiping her hands on a cloth before walking toward the counter. She lifted the lid of the pot, inspecting the stew for a moment.

“Hmm.” She nodded once.

Then she grabbed a tray and began placing the dishes onto it. “Take it to him.”

My head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Marla didn’t even look surprised. She simply adjusted the bowl on the tray and pushed it toward me.

“He wants you to be the one serving him from now on. His orders. You cook it, you serve it.”

A few of the servants nearby suddenly became very interested in their work.

One of them muttered under her breath, just loud enough to hear.

“Lucky her.”

“Well?” Marla continued. “Don’t keep the Alpha waiting.”

I reached for the tray.

“Straight down the corridor,” Marla said, already turning back to the stove. “Take your left and you'll see the dining room.”

She paused, glancing at me with clear disgust. “And try not to make another scene.”

I didn’t answer.

The tray felt heavier than it should as I carried it out of the kitchen.

My footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor. As I got closer to the dining room, I heard voices.

Two guards stood outside the dining room doors. One of them glanced at the tray, then knocked once before pushing the door open.

“Dinner, Alpha.”

Warm candlelight spilled across the floor as I stepped inside. The dining room was large, the long wooden table already set with plates and glasses.

Lucian sat at the head of it.

His dark cane rested beside his chair, one hand loosely curled around the handle. His head tilted slightly as I entered, like he had sensed me immediately.

I walked forward and set the tray down on the side table. Lucian didn’t speak at first.

The room felt strangely still, the only sound was the faint crackle of the fire behind him.

Then his fingers tapped once against the head of the cane.

“You're late.”

“I… the kitchen was finishing the stew,” I replied, keeping my voice steady.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then his head tilted again slightly, almost thoughtful.

“Serve it.”

I picked up the bowl from the tray and stepped closer to the table.

The chair across from him scraped softly against the floor.

I froze.

The man sitting there shifted slightly, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as if he had been waiting comfortably for some time.

Lucian’s cane tapped once against the floor.

“My guest has been patient,” he said calmly.

The man chuckled under his breath.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he replied. “Not when the Alpha himself invites me to dinner.”

His voice sounded strangely familiar.

I hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room. Slowly, I turned my head.

The man sitting comfortably across from Lucian lifted his gaze toward me… My father.