All Chapters of MATED TO THREE, DESPISED BY ALL. : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

99 Chapters

61. Another...

Melissa.The sound of the slap still echoed in my ears long after Cyril’s hand dropped back to his side.It wasn’t just the sharp crack of skin against skin.It was the vibration that followed. The ringing. The way it seemed to bounce off the tiled walls and lodge itself somewhere deep inside my skull, replaying over and over long after the moment had passed.For a second, I thought I might have imagined it, but the sting spreading across my cheek told me otherwise.No one moved.No one spoke.The kitchen, once full of whispers and clattering pots, had gone completely still.Only moments ago, there had been the rhythmic scrape of knives against wooden boards. The hiss of oil in heated pans. Low murmurs exchanged between omegas. The shuffle of feet against stone.Now, there was a heavy suffocating silence.Even the oil that had splattered onto the stove seemed to quiet, its earlier sizzle fading into a faint, mocking crackle.I could feel every pair of eyes on me.Some wide.Shocked.U

62: She will learn.

Cypril.The moment I saw the oil splattered across Melissa’s arm and dress, something inside me recoiled.It wasn’t visible.It didn’t reach my face.But I felt it.A sharp, instinctive jolt, so sudden and visceral it was almost violent. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, before I could fully register what I was seeing.The sheen of oil glistening against her skin.It clung to her like a second layer, reflecting the harsh kitchen lights. Tiny beads slid slowly down her forearm, trailing over fabric that had darkened where it soaked in. The smell hit a second later, burnt oil and something else. Something dangerously close to skin.She stood too still.That was what unsettled me most.No frantic shaking. No dramatic cry. Just stillness. Controlled. Contained.Her jaw tightened faintly as she swallowed the pain. I saw it, the subtle flex of muscle near her ear, the way her throat moved as she forced whatever reaction threatened to rise back down.“Fuuuuucccckkkkkkk!” I curse

63. I didn't care....

Melissa.By the time dinner was ready, my arm felt numb.Not because the pain had faded.But because I had grown used to it.The burn from the oil hadn’t disappeared; it had simply settled into something constant, a dull, persistent sting that no longer startled me but refused to be ignored. It throbbed beneath my skin, a quiet reminder with every movement that it was still there. Every time I stirred the pot, every time I lifted a tray or adjusted a plate, the fabric of my sleeve brushed against the tender skin and sent a subtle flare of heat up my arm.It didn’t make me flinch anymore.It just lingered.A steady ache woven into the rhythm of my work.But I finished.Of course I did.Stopping had never truly been an option. Not when expectations hovered as heavily as they did in this house. Not when mistakes were remembered longer than effort.The plates were arranged perfectly, edges aligned, garnishes placed with careful precision. The portions were measured, neither too generous n

64. IS IT STILL WORTH WANTING?

Melissa.Cyril stood by the door, one hand still resting against the wood as if he hadn’t fully decided whether to enter or leave.But his eyes….His eyes had already entered.They moved slowly over me, deliberate and unhurried, taking in every exposed inch of skin the towel failed to hide. From my damp hair clinging to my shoulders…down to the curve of my collarbone…lower, where the edge of white fabric was tucked tightly against my chest.He didn’t blink.Didn’t look away.And under that steady assessment, I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the towel.Heat crept up my neck, not from embarrassment alone, but from the weight of his gaze. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t startled.It was calculating.I immediately clutched the towel tighter against myself, my fingers digging into the fabric as though it could shield me from the intensity of his stare.He took a step forward.The click of his shoes against the floor sounded too loud in the quiet room.My pulse stumbled.“Why

65. Erasure.

Melissa.I don’t know how I managed to leave that room with my legs steady.After Cyril left the room, after whatever storm had burned through his eyes dulled into something distant and unreadable, I stood there for a long second, listening to the silence he left behind. It rang in my ears, heavy and suffocating.Then I moved, mechanical and controlled as I dressed quickly, simple and modest. Fabric that did not demand attention. Long sleeves to cover the burn. I was careful as I pulled them down, careful not to let the cloth brush too harshly against the tender skin. Powder to soften the redness on my cheek. I dabbed it gently, blending until the evidence blurred into something almost invisible.Almost.By the time I finished, there was no tremor in my hands. No visible crack in my reflection. Just a woman staring back at me with quiet, disciplined emptiness.By the time I reached the dining hall, my face was calm, composed and empty.The doors were already open. Laughter spilled out

66. LETTER.

MELISSA.For a second, I genuinely thought I had misheard her.My name left her lips in that fragile, trembling tone, thin and quivering like glass about to shatter. It wasn’t just weak. It was wounded. Accusing. As if I had already betrayed her and she simply needed me to admit it.“What did you put in my food?”The words didn’t sound real. They hung in the air between us, suspended, sharp and ugly.The dining room seemed to tilt beneath my feet.I stared at her.Stunned.Puzzled.Confused enough that a disbelieving laugh almost clawed its way up my throat.This had to be some kind of mistake. A misunderstanding. A dramatic overreaction to a sudden wave of dizziness.But before I could form a single word, before I could even process the sheer absurdity of what she had just implied, Amelia’s eyes rolled back.Her lashes fluttered once, then she collapsed.Chaos erupted instantly.My mother’s scream pierced through the room, shrill and panicked. My father shoved his chair back so hard i

67. Louis.

MELISSA.My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up the folded paper.It wasn’t obvious at first, just the faintest shake at the tips, a subtle betrayal of the storm rising inside me. The paper felt heavier than it should have. Thicker. Like it carried more than ink and fibers.For a moment, I simply stared at it, the clean crease running down the center, at the way my name had been written on the outside in unmistakable strokes.I unfolded it carefully, smoothing the edges as though too much force might erase the words.The handwriting was familiar, slanted slightly to the right.Hi Melissa, it’s me, Louis. Sending this notice to you, so it won’t come as a shock. I am coming to get you away from the triplets. They don’t deserve you.I froze instantly.Like my body had forgotten how to move.The room seemed to shrink around me, the walls pressing closer, the air thinning.Louis.It really was him.My heart slammed violently against my ribs, each beat sharp and unrestrained. Not from

68. Whip.

Melissa.The first lash fell before I could fully brace for it.There was no warning beyond the subtle shift of air behind me, no mercy in the pause. One second the night was heavy and still, the next it shattered.The crack split through the darkness, sharp, violent, final.Then came the pain.It tore across my back in a blazing line of fire, so sudden and brutal that it stole the breath straight from my lungs. My body arched instinctively against the table, fingers curling hard into the rough wood beneath me. Splinters bit into my palms as my nails scraped for purchase.A cry rose in my throat.I swallowed it.I would not give them that.The second strike landed before the first had even faded, before my nerves could decide where one agony ended and the next began.Another searing line, another explosion of heat. It overlapped the first, layered over it, claiming new skin without mercy.The crowd was silent now.No whispers of gossip.No murmurs of doubt.Just the clean, cruel sound

69. EMERGENCY.

Cain.The crack of the final lash still echoed in my ears as I stepped down from the podium.It rang sharp and clean, like wood splitting beneath a blade. The sound refused to fade, rebounding against the walls of my skull, threading itself through the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.“Punishment complete.”The elder’s voice had carried across the trial ground without strain, calm, resolute, unquestionable. The crowd had gone still at once. No murmurs. No protests. Only the heavy silence that follows a verdict was already decided long before it was spoken.“Necessary,” I muttered inside my head.The word was not for the elders, It was not for the pack, It was for my wolf and for myself.Shut the storm.I didn’t look back at the platform.I didn’t look at her.Not at the way her body had sagged the instant the ropes were loosened, as though whatever force had kept her upright had finally snapped. Not at the streaks of red staining the wooden planks beneath her feet. Not at the way her ha

70. SHE IS IN THERE!

Cain.The word emergency was still hanging in the air when I was already moving. It had barely settled into the room, still vibrating against the stone walls, when my body responded without hesitation. Instinct had already taken the reins. There was no thought. Only motion.Caleb shoved past the guard first, shoulders forward, eyes sharp, every step a calculated shove through the cluttered corridor. He moved with the urgency of a predator sensing a threat, his jaw tight, his presence radiating command. Cyril followed immediately behind him, his stride measured yet relentless, eyes scanning the hallways, taking in every detail with the precision of a strategist. I followed, not far behind, my pulse quickening, not with fear, but with the raw, unerring instinct that comes when something crucial is at stake. Emergencies in the pack were rare, and when they occurred, they were never small. They demanded total attention, every sense sharpened, every decision immediate.The corridor was

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