Episode 2 - Anna

Anna Noelle’s POV

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The sharp sting in my cheek hadn't even begun to fade when Wendy’s voice rang out, demanding lunch.

I wiped the mixture of dirt and tears from my face, forcing my trembling legs to stand. Apparently, being beaten in the mud wasn't enough to excuse me from my duties. In this house, I was still expected to serve.

It still baffled me how drastically everything had changed. When my father first introduced Helena and her daughters to me, they were the very picture of warmth and kindness. But the moment my father took his last breath, their gentle facades shattered, revealing the vicious strangers lurking underneath. I had walked straight into a trap, blinded by their deceit.

Why do I feel like a prisoner in my own home?

“Anna! Where is our food?!” Wendy’s shrill voice echoed from the dining room.

Startled, I hurried to the cramped downstairs bathroom. I splashed cold water over my split lip and the throbbing bruises on my arms, hastily pulling my worn sleeves down to hide the angry red scratches Cindy had left behind.

“If only Father were still here, we wouldn't feel so miserable, right, Mother?” she murmured, a theatrical, sickeningly sweet sadness dripping from her words.

My brows knitted together in confusion. Which father was she referring to? Her biological father, or my beloved dad, who had embraced them as his own?

“Fernando is gone, Cindy. Stop looking for him,” Helena replied flatly, cutting into her meat.

Fernando? Was that their real father’s name?

“We couldn’t care less about Fernando!” Wendy chimed in, rolling her eyes. “The one Cindy is talking about is the true pillar of our home—Gabriel.”

A dull ache flared in my chest. I forced my legs to move, walking away before the sheer audacity of their words could pull me under. They dared to claim my father’s legacy while treating his only flesh and blood like garbage. Deep down, I already knew the bitter truth: I had never truly belonged in their twisted family portrait.

Minutes bled into one another. When the sounds of scraping silverware finally ceased, I gathered the courage to step back into the dining room.

Cindy and Wendy had already vanished, leaving only Helena. She sat alone at the head of the long, mahogany table, quietly taking the last sip of her wine.

A cold knot of anxiety formed in my stomach at the prospect of being alone with her, but I forced myself to push past the panic. Wiping my damp hands against the rough fabric of my skirt, I stepped forward to clear away the empty plates.

“Anna.”

I froze. I turned toward her, adopting a posture of rigid, practiced respect.

Helena didn’t even bother to look up at me. She left me standing there like a statue while my heart hammered frantically against my ribs.

“Sit down and eat.” Her voice was a low, chilling command.

I blinked, half-convinced the exhaustion was making me hallucinate. Did she actually just tell me to sit and eat? Helena abhorred the mere thought of me sharing the same breathing space while she was at the table.

Paralyzed by the sudden, suffocating weight of her gaze, I hesitated. The silence stretched, tense and deadly.

“Did you hear me, Anna?” Her tone darkened, laced with a dangerous, predatory edge.

Panic surged through my veins. I knew better than to test her patience; defying Helena always brought swift, merciless punishment. Swallowing hard, I dragged out a vacant chair across from her and sank into it, my shoulders hunched and my gaze locked firmly onto my lap.

“Eat,” she murmured coldly, her eyes tracking my every flinch.

Hesitantly, my trembling hand reached out toward an empty porcelain plate near my fingertips.

“Don't eat on plates,” she snapped, freezing my hand in mid-air. Her eyes narrowed into a glare of absolute, unfiltered loathing. “Eat without one. Like the animal you are.”

My breath caught in my throat. Eat without a plate? Straight off the polished wood of the dining table?

“You know how much I hate you, right, Anna?”

I shrank into myself, staring at the hardwood floor, fighting to control the terrified rhythm of my breathing. I dared not speak a single word.

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yes, Helena,” I whispered, making my body as small as possible to shield myself from her venomous stare.

“And you know how much I love my daughters, right?”

I gave a tiny, mechanical nod. I didn’t dare ask if I was included in that maternal love—I already knew the brutal answer.

“So don't make me angry.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a lethal hiss. “Don't do stupid things, because I know what an idiot you are. And don't cause any more trouble, unless you want me to sell a pathetic Omega like you off to wealthy old men.”

A sharp gasp escaped my lips.

*BANG!*

Helena violently slammed her palm against the table, the sharp crack echoing loudly through the empty room. Without another word, she stood up, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she walked away.

The moment her footsteps faded down the hall, the dam broke. I curled into myself, letting out the agonizing sob I had trapped in my chest all afternoon.

Pure terror gripped my soul. The threat of being sold to wretched, powerful old men wasn't an empty one. My mind flashed to the three household maids who had mysteriously vanished shortly after my father died—women who had grown up alongside me, who had treated me like a little sister. Helena had traded them away to filthy, dangerous buyers for a fortune.

When my father died, Helena weaponized the very mansion he built, turning my childhood home into a gilded cage. She was a monster wearing a human face, and the thought of calling her "mother" made me physically sick.

She didn't deserve that title. And I didn't deserve this hell.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Night had already fallen when I continued cleaning the kitchen. The silence was suffocating—until a series of loud, urgent knocks shattered it, making me flinch.

“Anna! Open this door!” Helena’s voice rang sharply from the other side.

My heart lurched. I rushed to the door and pulled it open, only to freeze at the sight of her. Helena stood there, her gaze cold and cutting, as if she could see straight through me. I instinctively stepped back, fear tightening around my chest.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. I expected another list of commands, but instead, her eyes slowly swept over me from head to toe. I saw a flicker of disgust on her eyes.

“Go take a bath. Fix yourself. Dress properly,” she said, her voice laced with quiet authority. “Do not embarrass me in front of the guests in the mansion. Do you understand, Anna?”

I nodded quickly, barely breathing.

“And when you’re done,” she continued, her lips curling into a chilling smile, “enter through the back of the mansion. Do not let the pack warriors at the front see you… unless you want me to sell an omega like you to rich, aging wolves.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

She studied my reaction, clearly pleased by the fear flickering in my eyes, before turning and walking away without another word.

Only when she was gone did I realize I had been holding my breath.

Sell me. Her threat echoed in my mind.

Because of that, I wasted no time. I bathed quickly, scrubbing away the exhaustion clinging to my skin, then dressed in haste. I fixed my long black hair as neatly as I could and slipped into a pale green dress that fell just above my knees.

Within minutes, I was on my way to the back of the mansion.

The narrow path led me to a discreet door that opened into the wide kitchen. From there, I quietly made my way toward the main hall. As I drew closer, unfamiliar voices drifted through the air—deep, composed, and undeniably powerful.

The moment I stepped inside, Helena’s gaze snapped toward me. I stiffened. A smile curved her lips—but it wasn’t meant for me. It was warm, almost gentle.

Like a mother welcoming her child.

The sight unsettled me more than her anger ever could.

She approached swiftly, placing a firm hand on my shoulder before turning me toward the men standing before us.

“Gentlemen,” Helena said smoothly, “this is my daughter, Anna Noelle.”

My breath caught. Daughter? The word felt foreign—almost mocking.

My eyes flickered toward the three men. They carried themselves with quiet authority, their presence heavy in the air. Wealth, power… wolves.

Were they the ones Helena had been talking about? The ones she could sell me to?

“Good evening, Anna,” one of them greeted. “We are from the Silvermoon Pack House. We’ve come to extend an invitation to selected VIP guests for the traditional Mating Ball, which will take place the end of this week.”

Mating Ball.

The words echoed in my mind.

Wasn’t that what Father once told me about? The night he met my mother… before she died giving birth to me.

“M-Mating Ball?” I managed, my voice barely steady.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Helena spoke over me.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said with practiced politeness, “but what exactly does my daughter need to do to be included among your VIP guests? She does need her rest, after all.”

My daughter. Again.

If only they knew how she truly treated me.

“Because she’s Gabriel Noelle’s daughter. And we simply require her signature on our list,” the man replied calmly, “to confirm her attendance at the Silvermoon Claw’s traditional Mating Ball.”

I found myself staring at the man who was smiling at me, while I stood frozen, unable to process everything I had just heard.

Before I could even move, Helena suddenly reached for the document the man was holding. She was about to sign it herself when he gently stopped her.

“Ah, my apologies, Mrs. Noelle,” he said politely. “Anna is the one who needs to sign.”

“What? But I’m her mother. Does that make any difference?” Irritation was clear in Helena’s voice, but the man in front of us remained unmoved.

Without another word, he took the document from her and handed it to me.

My hands trembled slightly as I took it. Without hesitation—without even giving myself time to think—I signed my name and quickly returned it to him.

“There is a difference,” he said calmly, “between the name on the list and the person authorized to sign for it.”

Once they left, the warmth in the room vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

Helena’s gaze turned sharp again—cold and suffocating. Cindy and Wendy stood beside her, their expressions equally hostile.

“Why are you one of the VIP guests?” Wendy sneered. “Shouldn’t an omega like you be the last person invited?”

Before I could react, she shoved me hard.

I fell to the floor, pain shooting through my body. My breath hitched as I looked up at her in fear, just as she raised her hand to slap me—but stopped.

Helena’s voice cut through the tension.

“Let’s see,” she said, her eyes burning with anger as they locked onto mine, “if your presence at the Mating Ball will amount to anything… or if you’ll remain a wolfless nobody—because no mate would ever choose someone like you.”

Her words struck deeper than any blow.

And for a moment, I couldn’t tell which hurt more.