Family's Regret After She Kneels

Aurora’s POV

The scent of silver and herbs clung to the air like smoke. Machines hummed softly beside the bed where Vicky, Alpha Damian’s sister, lay motionless. Her skin was almost translucent beneath the sterile lights, her lips pale as frost.

The Beta doctor hovered near her bedside, murmuring instructions to a nurse who scribbled notes with trembling hands. The faint metallic tang of wolf poison lingered in the room.

No one said the word out loud, but everyone knew.

Someone had poisoned her.

When the Beta doctor finally turned toward us, his voice was low, heavy with restrained disgust.

 “She’s stable,” he said, “but the poison was mixed into her morning medication. Only Aurora and Helen came to visit her today, are you sure there was no one else in the room?.” 

“I don’t know…” she whispered, her lower lip quivering as she pressed her hands to her chest.

Helen, the daughter my mother had adopted years ago, stood near the door, her hands clasped tightly to her chest, wide eyes shimmering with well-timed tears. 

Her dress was spotless, her posture delicate, her voice trembling just enough to seem innocent. Even now, she looked perfect, fragile in a way that demanded protection.

My mother was beside her, whispering softly, her hand resting on Helen’s shoulder. None of that tenderness had ever belonged to me.

Mother moved to Helen’s side and took her trembling hands. “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” she whispered, brushing a golden strand from her face. “Helen is such a kind-hearted child; she would never do such things. Give us a little time.We’ll fix this.”

Then she turned toward me, her expression soft with false sorrow. “Aurora,” she said gently, “come with me.”

The hallway outside the infirmary smelled of antiseptic and rain, the kind that seeped into your bones and stayed there. My mother’s heels clicked softly against the tile as we walked, the sound measured, deliberate.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm. “Helen made a mistake. She didn’t mean to harm Vicky.”

I stopped walking. “You’re saying she did it?”

She paused a bit then continued. “Accidentally,” she said after a pause. “She didn’t know the herb was poisoned.”

My chest tightened. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

She turned to me then, her expression shifting, soft around the edges, the way it always did when she was about to ask something unbearable.

Her eyes met mine, calm, cold, unwavering. “Aurora, you know how fragile Helen is. If word spreads, her life here will be over. She’ll be destroyed. You’re stronger. You can survive it.”

The words scraped across my chest like claws. “You want me to confess to something I didn’t do because she’s fragile?”

Her eyes glistened, and she let a single tear fall, a performance I’d seen her perfect a hundred times. “You were always resilient,” she whispered. “You can endure pain. I can’t ask that of Helen.”

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat loud and desperate, like a drum echoing in an empty room.

“But Mom,” I said, my voice breaking, “I’m your biological daughter. Helen is the one you adopted. Have you forgotten?”

Her gaze didn’t waver, her silence sharper than any answer.

A bitter laugh caught in my throat. “You’ve asked everything of me my whole life,” I whispered.

Memories bled through the edges of my thoughts, after she lost another child to infancy, the whispers began. The pack branded me a curse carrier. At six, I was cast out like something unclean, a rogue before I even understood what that meant.

Years later, when I finally returned home, I found a stranger living my life.

Helen. She was perfect, adored, untouchable, and had taken the place that used to be mine. My parents showered her with affection, and I became the shadow standing just outside the warmth of their light

Her eyes hardened, the softness vanishing like it had never been there. “Don’t make this difficult. You owe this family at least that much.”

I laughed once, short and bitter. “You mean I owe her.”

Mother flinched but said nothing.

By the time she led me into Father’s study, the decision had already been made.

The room smelled of whiskey and wolfbane. Books lined the walls, but the magic pulsing through the air felt suffocating. Father stood behind his desk, shoulders broad, eyes dark. Keith leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

When Father spoke, his tone was as cold as the silver cuffs on his wrists.

 “You’ve brought shame to this family.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “Helen switched the doses. Ask her”

Keith ,my brother, slammed his fist into the wall. “Stop blaming her! She told me everything, how you tried to frame her, how jealous you’ve been since she came into this family!”

Disbelief cut through the fear rising in my throat. “You believe her over me?”

Something inside me cracked.

Father moved out from behind the desk. The faint glow of magic flickered between his fingers, gold light coiling like smoke. “If you won’t tell the truth,” he said, “I’ll make you.”

“Father…” My voice shook as I took a small step back. “You don’t have to do this. Please. You know me.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes held no recognition, no hesitation, only the cold conviction of someone who had already decided I was guilty.

The spell hit before I could finish.

It burned through my body like molten fire, crawling under my skin, freezing my lungs mid-breath. My limbs locked in place. My voice broke into fragments. I could feel my will bending, twisting beneath the weight of his command.

His voice filled my head. “You will confess. You will say you gave her the poison.”

My mouth opened without permission.

 “I… poisoned her.”

The lie echoed through the silence.

Mother stood in the corner, her eyes damp but unreadable. She didn’t move to stop him. She didn’t move at all.

Father picked up his phone, recording. “Say it again.”

Tears blurred my vision. “I poisoned Vicky,” I whispered.

When he stopped recording, Keith turned away. “You’ve ruined us,” he said, voice low with disgust, and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Mother walked forward and touched Father’s arm gently. “I’ve deleted the surveillance footage,” she said. “There’s no need for this to go further.”

“No need,” Father echoed, his magic fading. “The Alpha will never see the proof.”

The proof.

The only thing that could’ve saved me. When they left, silence filled the room.

The spell’s residue pulsed through my veins like frost. My muscles twitched, my breath shallow. I fell to my knees, pressing my palms against the cold floor to keep from collapsing completely.

My skin burned where the magic had gripped me. The faint scent of wolfbane clung to my clothes.

For a long time, I couldn’t move, and couldn’t think.

I stared at the spot where Keith had stood, the brother who had once promised to protect me.

The echo of his footsteps faded down the hall, but the words he’d left behind kept ringing in my ears, sharp as broken glass. 

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t just his rejection, it was the final proof that I truly had no one left.

The people who were supposed to love me had become strangers, and the home I’d once longed to return to had turned into a place that devoured me whole.