Chapter 3

Alpha Elijah had once again firmly sent me back to my rooms while he went to console his daughter, probably to ask her what had happened without any onlookers. Now in my room, my mind still whirled as I thought of the encounter. Not with Elijah or Ava, but with her.

Thea.

She must have been a clever little girl, to be able to make up such an elaborate story of being one of the maid’s daughters when she was in fact, the Alpha’s.

Ava had not treated the Alpha’s daughter well during that interaction, either. I wondered if she would’ve pretended to fawn over her more if she knew. If she did, that façade wouldn’t last very long anyhow, since she didn’t care for kids much.

I, on the other hand, was already missing the vibrant little girl. I thought of her age—she had to have been around six or seven. The same age that my little one would have been.

If my child was still with me, would she be as sweet and lively as Thea? I thought.

I often wondered what my child would be like. Would she grow to have long, dark hair like mine? A button nose? Would she love to sing and dance?

The last I’d seen her, she had been an infant. She was born prematurely, and while she was in the NICU, she was stolen.

For two years, I searched for her. I went everywhere I could, put posters up everywhere, spent nights wandering the woods and the sides of highways and truck stops in an attempt to find her. The authorities said they were doing their best, but… it didn’t feel like enough.

And then, at the end of those two years, the news came.

“We’re sorry. We’re marking your daughter as deceased.”

They said that missing infants rarely made it this long. That they couldn’t keep spending resources on a lost cause.

There was a funeral, an empty little casket. But I knew she wasn’t dead.

I never stopped looking. Never. Not even when everyone thought I was fucking crazy. And right now, I just needed to pay off this medical debt so I could get back to my search, because working was taking up all of my time.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at my door. I opened it to the sight of a politely smiling maid.

“All trial participants’ presences are required in the common room,” she said curtly. I wondered if this meant that I was allowed to stay, but she left to knock on the next door before I could ask. Still, I made my way to the common room and took a seat in one of the plush armchairs by the window.

The other participants filed in, giving me either death glares or looks of interest as they took their seats in the room. A few minutes after everyone had arrived, a charming male with short brown hair and green eyes entered the room.

“Hello, ladies. I am Beta James, Alpha Elijah’s second. I have brought you all in here to announce the beauty ball the Alpha is hosting.” He surveyed the room as he spoke. The girls erupted into excited chitters at the news, but I was just busy wondering if this meant that I wasn’t going to be kicked out.

“Of course,” Beta James continued, “the ball is a section of the trials where you each will be put into consideration to be the Alpha’s mate, but there is another benefit to this ball as well. On the night itself you will be judged by fashion, looks, and poise, and the top five contestants will receive cash prizes, with a large sum of $100,000 being given to the winner.”

I widened my eyes in shock. That amount certainly upped the stakes—it would wipe out my medical debt entirely and leave a little extra so I could focus on finding my daughter without having to work for a bit.

I needed to win that money. At whatever cost.

“Now.” The beta clapped his hands together and a group of maids scuttled in. “You will be shown to the dressing room where you may choose from a selection of gowns. Choose wisely.” He smiled at us and exited the room as the maids began shuffling girls to the dressing room.

The gown selection was vast, with a wide range of gowns in every shape, length, color, and size. There was also a selection of fabrics off to the side on one rack, in case anyone wanted something custom made—the caveat being that they would have to create the dress themselves.

Of course, Ava and her clique had found the most expensive designer dresses immediately and were making hurtful comments to anyone else who got near them. I was surprised she was still even here, after that little display with the Alpha’s daughter. Maybe Elijah wanted to give her a chance to make a royal ass of herself.

I ignored my stepsister and decided on taking some of the fabrics, a simple black sheath dress, and some other materials I would need to make my own dress and quietly headed back to my dorm. The simple dress would be my base, which I would make some serious modifications to.

My late mother had been a seamstress, a skill that she had passed down to me. As a kid, I would sit by her feet while she handmade suits and gowns for the elites of our society; sometimes she would stay up all night to finish a piece, and I would fall asleep tangled up in skirts and bolts of fabric.

Knowing how to sew was the one thing I had left of her after her death. Now, I often made my own clothing in my spare time, using thrifted pieces and fabric to come up with something brilliant.

This was easy in comparison to that, especially with all of the resources at my disposal.

After two days of work, I’d finally completed it. The dress was beautiful—what had once been a simple black sheath dress was now a long, flowing gown, with lace sleeves and an embroidered bodice. Threads of silver and gold were wound throughout the bodice, subtle rose patterns.

I added that last part as an afterthought, recalling the rose bush that Thea had drawn. I wasn’t sure why, really; I just thought it would be nice.

As I took a step back to admire my work, I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out. I knew that if my mom were here, she would be proud of me, too.

But I’d been holed up in my room the past two days working on it, and my stomach growled in displeasure, so I went to the dorm kitchen to find something to eat. I grabbed a prepackaged deli sandwich and an orange juice and headed back to my room.

I didn’t get far before Ava walked by me in the hallway with a smug look on her face. She was holding a pair of scissors. “Nice dress.” She snapped the scissors at me with a demented grin, laughing as she passed.

My eyes widened and I rushed to my room.

I gasped as I took in the scene before me. Shreds of lace and black fabric were strewn across the room, threads hanging and swaying in the wind. She had cut my work into pieces, absolutely decimating it past the point of repair.

I groaned and dropped my food, tears welling up in my eyes.

Fury at what Ava had done began to roil in the pit of my stomach, but more than that, I felt… hopeless.

There was no time to fix it now—the ball was tonight. I’d have to beg the staff for something else to wear, and probably only the ugliest dresses were left.

With a huff, I took my food and made my way out to the gardens. I couldn’t even bear to be in my room right now.

I sat and chewed the sandwich miserably, disheartened. I’d lost my chance at the prize now. There wasn’t any point in me even going tonight.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of little footsteps approaching. I looked up, my mouth full of food, to see Thea skipping toward me. She grinned as she saw me and skipped over, but then slowed when she saw the tears in my eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

I sighed, unsure of how much to reveal. She was just a child, after all. But there was something about her… Something that made me feel at ease.

“My dress for the ball got ruined,” I admitted. “Remember that mean lady from the other day? She cut it all up.” I made a snipping motion with my fingers, which made Thea cringe.

She tapped her chin for a moment before suddenly grabbing my hand. “Come on,” she urged, and I had no choice but to follow. She was strong for a six-year-old.

After several minutes of tugging me through winding corridors and up narrow staircases, she led me to a room upstairs. She placed her finger over her lips and grinned as she retrieved a key from under a nearby vase, then turned it in the lock.

When she swung the door open, the smell of must and cobwebs hit me. I coughed, waving my hand in front of my face. But then my eyes widened.

Inside the room was a large glass case. And inside that case… was an exquisite ball gown.

But not just any ball gown.

“This is my mother’s work,” I breathed. I stepped closer to the gown’s glass case, marveling at it.

I’d recognize my mother’s handiwork anywhere, but this was a particularly breathtaking gown. It shimmered under the glass case’s built-in lights, the beads catching the glow like thousands of tiny dancing pearls. The enormous skirt flared out like a big, sparkling dome, the long sleeves puffing out at the shoulders and coming down to slender points at the back of each hand.

I remembered my mother making this dress, and it was safe to say that I had never expected to see it again.

Mom had received a commission to make this dress when I was only five years old, and it was one of the first pieces where she’d asked me to draw a design for her. I’d proudly shown her the drawing, and after some adjustments, my mother had turned my childish sketch of a princess dress into a perfect ball gown.

It had been one of our proudest moments together—our first shared creation.

“Don’t tell Daddy,” Thea whispered conspiratorially as she pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and jingled them in the air.