Istri Pura-pura sang Putra Mahkota

The Vane Pack ballroom was a gilded cage. Crystal glasses chimed over the low thrum of werewolf politics. The air was thick with roasted meat and heavy perfumes. It was suffocating. It was entirely wrong for someone like me.

My fingers turned white against the silver serving tray. The maid uniform they forced on me was three sizes too large. A row of cheap safety pins bit into my spine with every breath. It was a deliberate choice. Everything this family did was calculated.

Evelina Vane glided past me in blood red silk. She did not even turn her head. The smug satisfaction rolling off her scent said enough.

"Cassia. Fetch more champagne for the Alpha council table," Evelina called out. "And try not to embarrass yourself this time."

A few nearby guests snickered. These were pack members who had watched me grow up. They had watched me scrub their floors and eat their cold leftovers. They had witnessed my suffering for eighteen years. Not one of them had ever intervened.

I lifted my chin. I walked toward the Alpha council table with measured steps.

This was my reality. This was my everyday existence since the age of nine. The Vane family had taken me in after my parents allegedly defaulted on an unpayable debt. I was twenty seven now. That ledger never got smaller. They added the cost of my thin blankets, my meager meals, and my very breath under their roof.

My parents were dead. A tragic accident, they claimed. There was no funeral. There was no grave. It was a convenient tragedy that ensured I had no one to ask questions. No one to wonder why a nine year old girl was enslaved by a prestigious Alpha household.

I believed their lies when I was young. I cried for my parents' mistakes. But as I grew older, my mind sharpened. I noticed the glaring inconsistencies. I heard the older servants whispering. I saw financial documents vanish from the Alpha's study whenever I cleaned it. I caught the current Luna glaring at me with an expression that bordered on absolute dread.

My thoughts snapped back to the present as I reached the high table. Three commanding figures sat at the center. Their combined aura forced even the strongest territorial wolves to keep their distance. Kaelen, Jaren, and Thad Vane. The triplet Alpha heirs. Identical in face. Wildly different in their cruelty.

Kaelen was the eldest by three minutes. He slouched in his velvet chair with supreme boredom. His silver eyes swept the room with lazy disinterest. Yet, every few seconds, his gaze flickered to me. He hid the intensity quickly. He possessed the sharpest tongue, known for emotionally gutting grown warriors in public.

Jaren sat with rigid, perfect posture. His eyes were deceptive. They seemed warm, but that warmth could burn you alive if you stared too long. He was the observer. He cataloged every micro expression for future manipulation. Lately, he had been watching me far too closely.

Thad sat with his broad back partially turned to me. He was volatile and quick to rage. He was the one who caught me stealing a stale loaf of bread at twelve years old. The phantom pain of his bruising grip still haunted my arm. He had dragged me before the entire household to be shamed.