Sorry My Alpha Mom, I Was Born Broken

On the night of the Moon Goddess Festival, the collar malfunctioned. I collapsed at home in agony, full of silver poison. My mother just called me a useless Alpha heir who couldn't control her emotions.

Just a moment ago, I was a heap of pain on the living room rug.

The searing burn of high-concentration silver poison was tearing from my neck into my chest.

The emotion-suppressing collar on my neck flashed a frantic, blood-red.

The doorknob turned. A flicker of hope ignited in my chest.

"Mom!" I struggled to lift my head, my vision blurred by sweat. "You came back... Help me..."

My mother was an Alpha. One of the world’s leading werewolf geneticists.

She had to have sensed something was wrong. She was here to save me.

But she just stood in the doorway, her Alpha presence an icy wave of pressure.

Her gaze locked onto the flashing red light on my neck, her features twisting in familiar disgust.

"Red again. Losing control again?"

"No!" I tried to sit up, but the silver poisoning sent another spasm through me, and I collapsed. "I... I accidentally touched some silver that fell on the floor... My wolf is burning..."

"Enough!" Elara strode toward me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to meet her eyes. "Eighteen years, and you're still using these excuses? Look at your collar. The data doesn't lie. Your weakness is an insult to my authority."

My vision was blurry, but I could still see the disappointment and rage in her eyes.

It was the look I knew best.

"Elara, we have to go."

My father, Marcus, called from the door. His voice was rushed. "The Festival has already started. The other Alphas and the Alliance Chairman are waiting..."

His eyes fell on me for a second, his brow furrowed.

"Shouldn't we... leave something for Selena to eat?"

"Feed her what?" Elara sneered, dropping my chin. "She already stuffed her face with the festival truffles last week. The ones that cost a thousand an ounce. If she’s that greedy, let her starve and think about what she’s done."

I wanted to say Cassia ate them, but all that came out was a weak whimper.

The collar flashed again, unleashing another sharp sting of silver.

"Lock the door," Elara ordered my father, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Don't let her out until the collar turns blue. She needs to learn control."

"Mom, please..." I reached out a trembling hand, trying to grab the hem of her dress.

She sidestepped my touch with disgust.

Just before the door closed, I saw my sister, Cassia, standing in the hall.

The collar around her neck glowed with a steady, gentle blue, like a halo.

She looked at me and mouthed a single word.

Pathetic.

The door slammed shut. The electronic lock clicked.

The house fell silent.

It was just me and the silver fire burning inside me.

It hurt so much.

Mom is right. The data doesn't lie.

The collar is red. It must be a lie. I'm faking it.

It doesn't really hurt. I'm in control.

Tears streamed down my face as I tried to brainwash myself.

I don't know how long it took, but it felt like the pain really did start to fade.

With my last ounce of strength, I crawled to my desk.

I had to write a report. It was the rule.

A thousand-word "reflection report" for my "emotional outburst" on my tablet every time the light turned red.

If I wrote it, Mom would forgive me, right? She’d give me medicine, right?

With a shaking hand, I turned on the cold tablet.

It was filled with all my old reports.

I always wrote the same thing: "I'm sorry, I was wrong, I'll control my emotions better."

But this time, I wanted to write the truth.

A repressed growl rumbled in my chest.

My vision was fading. Tears fell as I typed with my last bit of strength:

"Mom, I really do love you."

"It hurts so much. Why won't you believe me?"

"The collar is broken. I was never out of control. I'm a worthy Alpha heir."

"I just wanted a hug. Just for you to tell me it would all be okay."

" For eighteen years, I never hated you. Not even when the collar tortured me with silver poison every single day."

"If loving you means losing control, then I'm guilty as charged."

As I typed the last word, the pain vanished.

In its place was a lightness I'd never felt before.

My body felt weightless, like it was about to float away.

I looked down and saw myself, slumped over the desk, completely still.

The collar on my neck was still flashing its lonely red light, like a bloodshot eye in the dark room.

So, this is what it was to be dead. And I still hadn't learned to control my emotions. Sorry, Mom.