Fated To My Triplet Alpha Cousins

The sharp beeping of a message jolted her from her thoughts. The phone vibrated once on the wooden stool beside the bucket she had been scrubbing with. Olivia wiped her damp hands on her plain brown dress before picking it up.

“Bring wipes to the visitors room! NOW!.” it said.

There was no greeting nor familiarities, just a command.

Olivia sighed quietly and got up from the cold floor of the tiny room she was mopping in the servants’ quarters.

The ache in her knees hadn’t left since dawn, and the strong scent of bleach clung to her fingers like a second skin. She stood slowly, grabbing the wipes from a drawer and walking out of the back corridor with her head bowed like always.

She rubbed her palms together, trying to warm her fingers as she walked into the hallway. The house was quiet except for the familiar voices echoing down the staircase. Her stomach twisted. She already knew what was waiting for her.

She walked down the long polished stairs of the Beta's mansion, each step she took bringing her closer to the heavy sounds filtering through the thick wooden door of the visitors room. Sheryl’s loud and breathy voice filled the air like smoke choking her lungs.

She stood in front of the door, wipes clutched in her hand, her head still bowed.

Sheryl was still at it.

The door wasn’t fully shut. It hung slightly ajar, just enough for Olivia to see flashes of movement. Muffled groans and skin slapping against skin.

Tangled limbs and sweat glistening under the dim golden light of the chandelier. Sheryl’s leg was thrown over a man’s back, her hands gripping the sheets as her moans got louder.

Olivia stood still and didn't blink or move. She simply waited like she always did, until Sheryl was finished.

The smell was already leaking out of the room.

Sweat and sex laced with spilled alcohol. The room reeked of her heat. Olivia’s nose wrinkled, but she said nothing. She never said anything. She wasn’t allowed to speak unless spoken to.

The moans grew louder and unending, as if the woman inside didn’t care that anyone could hear. No one would dare say anything to the Beta’s daughter anyway. Least of all the servant girl outside her door.

She had many pleasures, but none so frequent as seduction. Sheryl loved to sleep with men, any kind of them. As long as they had a member that got rock hard on her touches.

It didn’t matter who they were. Mated, single, royal, servants. As long as they were breathing and able, she opened her legs.

And Olivia? She cleaned up afterward and every time.

She felt the shame bubble quietly beneath her chest, having to stand outside a room like this, listening and waiting to clean up fluids that didn’t belong to her.

She looked down at the pack of wipes in her hand, her fingers trembling slightly. How many times had she done this now? Fifty? Hundred? More?

The moans inside turned into loud breathing and heavy sighs. The sound of the bed creaking stopped and there was a pause, and for a moment, Olivia hoped it was over.

Her thoughts drifted again. As they often did when she stood waiting for Sheryl to finish.

To thoughts of her mother.

The woman who used to be Luna.

The Luna who brought disgrace to the Crescent moon pack.

They said she was beautiful and sharp-tongued. But she had made one mistake which was falling in love with a man that wasn’t the Alpha, her fated mate.

She got pregnant, and when the child—Olivia—was born, the pack had turned cold.

“She slept with someone else.!"

“The child isn’t the Alpha’s!”

The scandal had spread like wildfire and before Olivia could say her first word, the pack had already decided her fate.

A bastard. An Omega. A disgrace.

When her mother had died two years after her birth, no one had mourned her.

Not even her mother's sister—the new Luna now—who refused to look Olivia in the eye.

Everyone whispered the same thing:

“She’s the bastard child. The mistake that should have never been born.” "The disgrace of the pack" "The symbol of their Alpha's betrayal"

When no one wanted her, the Beta took her in. But she had found out that it wasn't out of kindness.

For he had made her a maid—a servant for his precious daughter. From the moment she could carry a mop, she was made to scrub after Sheryl's filth. Cook her meals. Brush her hair. Wipe her heels clean. Clean the beds she slept in. And most often, clean them after she wasn’t alone in them. Just like she would be doing today.

Her bloodline didn’t matter as her shame always came first.

And no matter how hard she worked, no one ever let her forget.

She heard another loud cry of pleasure from inside the room.

Olivia didn’t move as her face remained blank. How long would it last today?

Sheryl liked to take her time with the men. She loved to make Olivia wait.

Sometimes, Olivia imagined turning the handle of the door, walking in, and throwing the wipes right in her face.

But she never did and she never would. Not because she couldn't. But because she was nothing here.

She was the girl no one wanted to associate with.

A walking reminder of a betrayal the pack never forgave.

Her mother may have been powerful once, but Olivia had been born beneath shame, and in the werewolf world, blood and hierarchy was everything.

And hers was dirty.

Still standing there, her knees became weak, Olivia didn’t hear the exact moment it ended. But the moaning stopped and there was only silence.

Then came the sound of shifting sheets.

“OLIVIA!!” Sheryl’s vile voice sliced through her thoughts like a slap.

Olivia flinched and her eyes widened for a moment, and then she quickly opened the door and stepped in.

The air inside was thick and the room was a mess with pillows thrown everywhere. The sheets were in a tangle, soaked in sweat and something else she didn’t want to name. A half-empty wine glass had tipped on the table, the red staining the white rug like dried blood.

And there on the edge of the bed sat Sheryl.

Naked with her legs crossed casually, hair wild like a goddess who had just descended from sin. She didn’t cover herself.