Mismatched

1.

Aurora.

Thirty minutes later, I was done with taking my bath and ready to start the day. I was currently walking down to the kitchen to fix something for myself to eat. As soon as I got to the kitchen, I winced to myself.

Perhaps I was not ready to start the day as I thought that I was.

I looked around as I saw many people running helter-skelter in preparation for the wedding that would be taking place the next day.

Whose wedding? You might be wondering?

It was the wedding of my mother. Oops, sorry, I meant the third wedding I've witnessed the woman going through in all my eighteen years of existence.

I couldn't figure out, for the life of me, why the woman never stayed with a man. But I couldn't blame her since she was someone who lived and breathed for the sake of money alone.

The rumour from the death of her last husband came to my mind, and I couldn't help but shudder that I was associated with this kind of woman. A woman who was rumoured to have been the one who killed the man just to inherit his wealth as the man has no child to leave anything to.

I couldn't possibly say the rumours were false, seeing as my mother has indeed inherited everything that belonged to the man, down to his last pin.

I watched as the cooks began to mix flour for doughs, probably to make some desserts or whatever. I didn't know, and I didn't exactly care.

But I do pity the man who was my mother's new target.

Alpha Townsend.

He was the werewolf Alpha of Cold Heart Pack. But maybe I shouldn't pity him so much since the man was so careless he didn't do his findings about his new wife.

When I first heard about the name given to the pack, I thought the Alpha was someone extremely wicked. I had already begun to dread my stay at the pack as his new stepdaughter, to the point that I avoided him each time he came to visit my mother. But he had been the complete opposite when I got to meet him almost a week ago when they broke the news to me that they would be getting married.

I heard that the man had three sons, but they didn't show their face during the meet-up. It seemed I was not the only one who was weary about this union as it seemed. But I had no choice.

"Oh, look. The cold queen is awake." I heard one of the servants say to the other in a voice that pretended to be hushed, yet still carried out loud and clear.

Cold Queen.

A name I had inherited from my mother's servant because of my cold nature.

It wasn't my fault that I neither laughed nor joked or played around like most people did.

What was in my life to make me happy?

"Aurora!" The main object for my cold nature screamed my name like I was on the brink of death.

I sighed inwardly as my sea green eyes turned to meet the cold stare of my mother's brown one.

"Mother," I said solemnly. Even though I tried to make my voice as calm as possible, the inner turmoil inside of me was anything but calm.

Ever since I knew my left hand from my right, my mother had treated me like I was nothing but dirt to her. I never knew when her anger would skyrock, and she would throw a knife at me in anger. I never knew when she would deem me a disgrace to her name and order that I be kept on house lock until she thought to release me, which could sometimes be weeks.

So, why should I be happy? Tell me why I shouldn't be the cold queen everyone calls me? Perhaps my parents should have named me Elsa or Snow White instead of Aurora.

"Why are you up so late?" She accused me.

Late? I was tempted to tell her that I was thirty minutes earlier than the time she gave me to always make my daily appearance. But I kept my mouth shut since I didn't want her wrath.

A slap landed on my face, and I had to sniff in to keep the tears from falling. Murmurs went up in the air from the servants, but none of them dared utter a word in fear of what my mother would do to them.

"Clean the entire house by yourself. I don't want to see asinglee speck of dust anywhere. If I do, count yourself among the dead." That said, she sahashed her hips and walked away from me.

I'm okay, it's okay, nothing is wrong with me. I repeated the words to myself severally until they penetrated deep into my soul.

I quickly picked up the broom and went into the yard to start myclean-upp from there. As I swept the place, the hurt I thought I had controlled returned with full force, and I couldn't stop the tears that flowed from my eyes.

I couldn't tell why my very own mother was always treating me like I was an outcast.

Or maybe I was an outcast since I didn't have an identity that suited her. I couldn't understand why her attitude was the way she was.

Why would a mother hate her daughter to the point of maltreating her worst than a servant?

I shook my head to brush the thoughts away. I couldn't afford to sink into a self-pity mood now. If my mother came around and saw that I hadn't finished the task she set before me, I couldn't tell how worse her reaction would be. But I do know that the punishment I would get would be one I wouldn't want to ever remember, yet I would never be able to forget all my life.

"Make sure you go over to get some refreshments for the guest the moment you are done with cleaning everywhere!" Mother yelled another command to me from the window of her room that looked directly into the yard where I was.

"Yes, Mother!" I yelled back at her.

Would there be no end to this torture?