THE OFFER

STELLA

The sheets were still warm.

That was the part nobody talked about. Not the blood — everyone who worked in the east wing knew about the blood by now — but the warmth. Like the bed had not yet decided whether what happened in it last night was violence or something else entirely.

I wrung the cloth out over the basin and watched the water turn pink.

Around me the other maids moved through their morning routines with the practiced efficiency of women who had learned not to look too closely at anything. Berta was folding towels in the corner and talking without stopping, the way she always did when she was nervous and pretending not to be, while Lina was cleaning the floors. 

Nobody liked cleaning the future Alpha’s chambers in the morning.

Not because he was cruel exactly. Cruel men were easier to understand. Alpha Derek was worse. Charming when he wanted to be. Beautiful in the kind of way that made women stupid enough to mistake danger for affection. The sort of man who smiled while ruining your life.

And his bedroom always looked like a battlefield afterward.

"She was crying again," Berta said. "Heard it through the wall. Proper crying, not the delicate kind."

Nobody responded. Nobody had to, we all knew exactly why she would cry after spending a night with Alpha Derek, the man was known to be not just overdominant in bed but also really rough with women he sleeps with. A lot of people assumed he might change and probably be careful with his soon to be Luna –Lady Valentina but from all we could see that wasn’t the case at all. 

“Careful with those,” Berta muttered beside me while gathering discarded clothes from the floor. “One of the girls ripped the silk curtains last month and cried for two days after he yelled at her.”

“He yelled?” I asked quietly.

Lina snorted.

“No. He looked disappointed. Somehow worse.”

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing. In the Night Wing palace, even our humor sounded exhausted.The room smelled like expensive liquor, sweat, and the faint scent of jasmine perfume. Lady Valentina’s perfume.

Future Luna of Night Wing.

I stripped the sheets from the mattress carefully, trying not to think about the rumors I’d heard from the servants’ quarters the night before.

Crying.

Begging.

A shattered vase.

Then silence.

I swallowed hard. Eight months in this palace and I had learned something quickly—money made people ignore things they shouldn’t. Like bruises. Like screams behind locked doors.

Like the way Lady Valentina had started wearing high collars despite the summer heat. The palace ignored it because Alpha Derek was handsome. Powerful. Untouchable. And because Lady Valentina was still going to marry him anyway.

A knock sounded suddenly from the chamber doors.

Every maid in the room straightened instantly.

One of Valentina’s personal guards stepped inside.

His eyes swept over us before landing directly on me.

“You,” he said flatly.

My stomach tightened.

“Yes?”

“Lady Valentina is requesting your presence.”

The guard stopped outside Valentina's private chambers and opened the door without a word.

Warm light spilled across the floor. I stepped inside.

She was seated near the fireplace, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, a crystal glass of wine resting between her fingers like she'd been born holding it. Golden hair arranged perfectly over one shoulder. A pale blue dress that looked sewn directly onto her skin. Every inch of her polished and untouchable. Except her eyes. Her eyes looked tired in a way the rest of her hadn't caught up to yet.

"You asked for me, my lady?"

"Yes, Stella." Her gaze lifted slowly. "Come closer."

I obeyed. My pulse had already started climbing and I didn't fully understand why yet.

She set her wine down. "You've worked in the palace for eight months."

"Yes."

"Your mother is still ill. She requires treatment from the southern physicians."

The question hit me like a hand around the throat. I blinked. "Yes."

"Those treatments are expensive." I stared at her and said nothing, because there was nothing safe to say. How she knew about my mother's treatments — about the extra shifts, the disappearing coins, the bills I kept folded in my apron pocket like a second heartbeat — I didn't know. But she knew. And she wanted me to know she knew.

She tilted her head slightly. "Your supervisors say you work hard. That you're loyal and quiet."

The word loyal in her mouth felt like a trap being set.

Then her eyes moved over me. Not the way people usually looked at maids — through us, past us, the way you looked at furniture. She was measuring. Shoulders. Waist. Height. The line of my jaw. Something crawled up my spine and I had to fight the urge to step back.

"You and I are similar in height," she said.

"My lady?"

"Stand straight."

I straightened automatically. She rose from her chair and walked toward me — soft, unhurried, like a woman approaching something she had already decided belonged to her. Up close I could see the faint purple bruising along her neck, half-hidden under powder that was a shade too thick.

Her eyes caught mine catching it.

"He likes roughness," she said, casually, the way you'd comment on the weather.

I dropped my gaze immediately. "I'm sorry, my lady."

Silence settled between us. Then she smiled, and somehow that felt worse than anything she could have said.

"I have an offer for you, Stella." She walked back toward the fireplace slowly. "Simple. Private. Beneficial for both of us." I wanted to leave. Badly. But servants didn't walk away from an Alpha's daughter, and desperate servants even less so, a part of me just felt that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill her request and it was the first time Lady valentina was asking for a favor from me, I couldn’t deny her that is if I still want my  head glued to my body. 

She picked up her wine. "You are aware that Alpha Derek and I are expected to marry within the year."

"Yes."

"You are also aware that he has... appetites." The way she said it made the hair on my arms stand up.

"He requested that I stay in his chambers before the wedding." Something in her voice pulled tight. Controlled too carefully. "And I discovered very quickly that one man can become very exhausting." She turned to face me fully then, close enough that I could smell jasmine and wine, close enough to see the second bruise hiding beneath her sleeve.

"You need money," she said quietly. My throat tightened. "Yes."

"And I need rest. I stared at her vaguely, trying to process what she was saying and where this conversation was leading. The fire crackled between us. Outside, somewhere down the corridor, I could hear the distant sound of the palace going about its day — completely indifferent, completely unaware.

Then she said the words that changed my life forever.

"I want you to take my place in Alpha Derek's bed."