Chapter 4: Replaced as a daughter

POV: ARIA 

The morning sun spilled across the east hallway, but it brought no warmth to the stone floors. I woke up early, before the rest of the household, driven by a lingering habit. For fifteen years, my morning routine had been identical: prepare Mother’s herbal decoction, check her pulse, and adjust her daily medicine schedule.

I made my way down to the sunroom where Mother usually sat for her morning tea. I carried a small wooden tray with a cup of warm water and her old ledger notes. I thought if there was still one place I could be useful, it was ensuring her fragile lungs survived the stress of the Lycan King’s visit.

When I reached the doorway, I stopped.

Mother was already seated in her armchair near the window, but I wasn't the one beside her. Lyra was kneeling on a velvet stool at her feet, carefully measuring two drops of liquid tincture into a porcelain teacup. The family doctor stood nearby, nodding approvingly as Lyra recited the dosage with practiced ease.

"You've memorized her schedule perfectly, Lady Lyra," the doctor said, his tone full of respect. "Her pulse has been remarkably stable under your care."

Mother reached down, affectionately smoothing Lyra’s hair. "Lyra is so attentive. She never forgets my morning tea, no matter how tired she is."

"It’s my duty, Mother," Lyra murmured softly, leaning her cheek against Mother’s knee. "I missed so many years of caring for you. I want to make sure you're healthy every single day."

I stood in the shadow of the doorway, holding the tray. The nurse turned and noticed me. She didn't offer a greeting or step aside. Instead, she glanced at me with mild confusion before looking back at Lyra to ask if Mother needed another pillow.

Every single person in the room, the doctor, the nurse, the household staff, naturally turned to Lyra for decisions. The role that had given me a reason to return, the last duty I felt I owed this family, had already been completely filled.

I didn't step into the room. I didn't argue or remind them that I was the one who had spent years studying those medicinal tinctures. I quietly turned around, walked back down the corridor, and set the tray down on an empty table.

There was no space for me in her life anymore.

With nothing left to do, I walked toward the lower courtyard to find something useful to occupy my time. The estate was in full chaotic preparation for the arrival of the Lycan King’s full delegation later that afternoon. Crate after crate of supplies, wines, and formal linens were being unloaded near the side pantries.

Because many of the servants were new hires brought in during my two years in prison, no one recognized me in my plain, threadbare clothes.

A head steward barked orders from the doorway. "You there! Standing by the pillar! Stop idling and move those silver crates down to the lower archive storage!"

He was pointing directly at me.

I didn't correct him. I didn't tell him I was the adopted daughter of the pack Alpha. It was easier to roll up my sleeves and carry crates than to stand around feeling like a ghost in my own former home.

I picked up a heavy wooden box of polished silver candleholders and began carrying it down the dimly lit stone stairs toward the lower level of the estate. The cool, damp air of the lower corridors felt familiar, almost like the stone halls of Coldspire Labor Prison.

"What do you think you're doing?"

A sharp, arrogant voice echoed down the stone hallway.

I stopped, adjusting my grip on the heavy crate. Standing at the foot of the stairs was Vance, a high-ranking warrior, a close ally of the Frostwood Pack, and one of Lyra’s most fiercely devoted defenders.

Vance stared at me with open disgust. His eyes swept over the heavy wooden box in my arms, my dusty tunic, and my pale, thin face.

He knew exactly who I was. He had been one of the loudest voices demanding my punishment two years ago when Lyra was harmed.

"Doing servant work?" Vance asked, taking a slow step toward me, his brow furrowed with sneering contempt. "Is this your new stunt, Aria?"

I kept my eyes lowered, my tone flat. "The steward asked for these crates to be brought to the archive room, Lord Vance."

Vance let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "Do you really think anyone is fooled by this pathetic act? You come back from prison, ignore your family, and now you carry boxes like a servant just so people will feel sorry for you?"

He took another step closer, his shadow falling completely over me.

"You haven't changed at all," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "You're still the same manipulative, jealous snake trying to make Lyra look bad!"