Chapter 6: Alpha Damon Is Here

ALEXANDER

I sat trembling in my chair, unable to believe my ears when my father said, “Alexander is also my daughter. She deserves to eat at the same table with us. You should let go of your anger so we can eat.”

Shock washed over me. For years, I had lived under this roof like a stranger to him, so hearing him acknowledge me as his daughter left me stunned. But my thoughts were cut short by the loud crash of the table, followed by a furious roar.

“Never!”

My legs locked instinctively, and my whole body went stiff as my stepmother, Jezebel, continued yelling, “After she killed my daughter, I will never accept her as mine. She can never replace Tracy!”

Then she stormed off.

Only then did some of the tension leave my body, and my tight muscles slowly relaxed. I lifted my gaze and saw blurred figures moving quickly around the room. The table was set upright again, and the food that had spilled earlier was replaced. When everything settled, I felt my father’s eyes on me.

I looked up and saw a warm smile on his face, which only deepened my confusion. Then he said, “Let’s eat.”

I ate with my heart lodged in my throat, fear tightening my chest. For the first time, I didn’t devour the food placed before me. My fear had stolen my appetite completely.

When my father finished eating, he rose to his feet and said, “Alex, continue eating. If you’re not satisfied, tell the maids to bring you more. The kitchen is here to serve you, my dear.”

I simply nodded and watched him walk away. The moment he was gone, I hurried out of the dining hall. The fear of my stepmother returning and finding me there kept me from enjoying even a single bite. I abandoned the meal entirely and rushed back to my room.

I stayed awake all night, every footfall in the corridor unsettling me. I kept staring intently at the door, trembling with fear, expecting my personal maid to appear and inform me of the punishment I would face that night.

For the past few years, while everyone else slept, my stepmother, Jezebel, would drag me out of bed to carry out endless chores—emptying trash cans, trimming flowers, and, worst of all, feeding the Caucasian dog locked in its cage.

I had been bitten by the dog once, and ever since then, it always grew irritated whenever I went near it. Most times, it was aggressive. It had attacked me several times, and the more I tried to be friendly, the more vicious it became. Feeding my stepmother’s favorite dog had always been my greatest nightmare.

My eyelids grew heavier. I struggled to stay awake, shaking my head and pinching myself. The thought of falling asleep without completing my nightly duties—or worse, after angering my stepmother—terrified me. I let out a heavy yawn, and soon I felt my strength slipping away. Before I knew it, my cheek was pressed against the softness of my pillow, and my body sank into the foam of the mattress.

I instinctively snapped my eyes open when I noticed my room was flooded with morning sunlight. A cold chill ran down my spine. My whole body stiffened, and I froze. In panic, I looked around and then fearfully at the door, my heart pounding so hard against my chest that I could hear it in my ears.

Then something else caught my attention—a plate sitting on the small dining table in my room. The aroma drifting from it made my mouth water instantly. I swallowed hard and got to my feet, walking slowly toward the table. When I saw the food spread before me, shock widened my eyes. For a moment, I forgot what food was even for.

I blinked repeatedly, unable to believe what I was seeing. I had expected to be dragged out of bed and beaten, or forced to kneel on concrete for hours. The last time I overslept, my stepmother had personally lashed me out of bed with a horsewhip. Since then, I had never dared to oversleep—until now.

My stomach rumbled. I had barely eaten dinner the night before. Tearing my gaze away from the food, I sat down and devoured everything. When I was done, I went into the restroom to wash up. To my shock, by the time I returned, the plates had already been taken away. I blinked in confusion. The special treatment I was receiving felt far too surreal.

I was still trapped in the moment when, at dusk, a knock came at my door. Panic seized me, and my muscles tensed. Before I could react, the door was flung open and several maids from the mansion flooded into my room.

“Miss Alexander, please, make our work easier. We are here to prepare you for your husband. Alpha Damon has come to take you home,” the senior maid said softly.

I could see the dissatisfaction in her eyes. She was used to speaking to me with her nose in the air and her voice dripping with disdain, so it must have been unbearable for her to lower herself enough to speak to me politely.

But that wasn’t what truly bothered me.

Damon was here?

A spark of excitement rose in me instinctively, but the moment I remembered the words he had spoken to me during the elder council meeting, it was extinguished. My mood darkened at once.

“Please,” the head maid urged again.

That was when I finally looked at her and decided to cooperate.

They bathed me thoroughly, then began to dress and adorn me. When they were finished, I was wearing a beautiful gown. As I stared at my reflection in the dressing mirror, it was the first time I had not felt disgusted by my body.

But when I noticed the maids’ expressionless faces and the disapproval lingering in their eyes, all my old insecurities came rushing back stronger than ever.