Page 44 of Alpha's Exiled Mate
I stopped myself just in time, but the damage was done.
Her expression shifted, a storm of hurt flashing across her face before it was buried beneath an icy calm.
“You’re right, Your Highness,” she said softly, her voice eerily devoid of emotion. “I can’t compare to Lady Sophia. She is your past, your true love, and I am nothing.”
She turned and walked away, leaving me behind.
I stood there, stunned by my own stupidity and cruelty. I had meant to explain the truth about the kiss, but instead, I had spoken the most hurtful words possible. I should have chased after her, cast aside my foolish pride, and apologized—
“Your Highness!” A maid rushed toward me, breathless. “Lady Sophia has fainted!”
Chapter 14
Lilia
I stood alone by the window of my chambers, gazing out at the darkening sky. My tears had long since dried, replaced by a numbing calm, like the eerie stillness that follows a storm.
"How could you ever compare to Sophia?"
Perock’s words echoed in my mind, each syllable a poisoned dagger plunging into my heart. I thought I’d grown accustomed to being dismissed, reduced to a mere tool, but hearing those words from him hurt more than all the humiliations I’d endured combined.
The past few days played on a relentless loop in my head. I saw Perock and Sophia laughing together, their voices carrying across the courtyard as they rode side by side, their horses’ hooves kicking up dust in the golden afternoon light. Sophia’s smug glance toward the balcony where I stood, too far to hear but close enough to feel the sting of her triumph, as if she were staking her claim. His exaggerated smile as they reminisced about old times, his voice deliberately loud, as if to ensure I heard every word, every shared memory that excluded me.
Each moment cut like a blade, slicing deeper with every glance, every laugh. But I forced myself to maintain a blank expression, to hold onto my dignity, to stand tall despite the pain.
Because I knew that’s what he wanted—to see me break, to watch me crumble with jealousy, to have me beg for his attention. Like a master toying with a dog, offering scraps of warmth to foster dependence, then withdrawing to watch it grovel.
I refused to give him that satisfaction.
So, I smiled when others could see me. I stayed silent when words would betray my hurt. I acted as if I didn’t care, as if his actions couldn’t touch me. But every night, alone in my chambers, the tears came unbidden, spilling over until I was empty. Today, when I saw him kiss Sophia in the courtyard, my heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. Yet I managed a calm apology, my voice steady as I turned and walked away, my composure a fragile shield against the storm inside.
Then he came after me—not to explain the kiss, not to offer regret, but to accuse me of being too friendly with Orin. His hypocrisy was so blatant it sparked a fire in me, and I fought back, hoping he’d see his own faults, feel some shred of remorse for the pain he’d caused. Instead, he delivered the final blow, the words that crushed the last flicker of hope I’d clung to.
"How could you ever compare to Sophia?"
Maybe he was right. Sophia was a noblewoman, born to privilege, her lineage impeccable, her place in the world assured. I was an orphan, a slave forced into a marriage to serve a purpose, a “defective” werewolf who couldn’t shift, a failure in the eyes of those who valued power. At Thornfield House, I was a lowly servant, scrubbing floors and enduring scorn. In the palace, I was a vessel to break Perock’s curse, a means to an end. No one had ever truly cared about who I was or what I felt.
Except Martha.
The thought of her brought a fleeting warmth to my chest, a soft glow in the darkness of my thoughts. Since arriving at the palace, I hadn’t had the chance to contact her, but I could picture her in the Thornfield kitchen, her hands kneading dough, her smile a beacon in that cold, oppressive place. She’d been my only solace, the one person who saw me as human, who treated me with kindness when the world offered none.
Maybe I should find her, I thought. I could tell her how much I missed her, how grateful I was for the love she’d shown me, the way she’d made me feel like I mattered.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. “Your Highness,” Susie said from the doorway, her face etched with concern, her eyes searching mine as if she could sense my turmoil.
I quickly composed myself, wiping away any trace of vulnerability and offering a faint smile. “Yes, Susie? Is something wrong?”
“There’s a woman wearing a veil asking to see you. She claims to be your cousin.”
Cousin? I had no family, no kin to claim me. The word sent a shiver of unease through me, but curiosity outweighed my caution.
Wary but intrigued, I nodded. “Let her in.”
When Susie brought the visitor to me, the woman tilted her chin, and beneath her veil, I caught the hint of a familiar, sharp smile—one I could never forget, one that had haunted my nightmares.
“Susie, we’d like to speak alone,” I said, emphasizing the word, my hands clenching involuntarily at my sides, betraying the calm I tried to project.
Susie nodded, curtsied, and left with the guard stationed at the door. Once the door closed and their footsteps faded down the corridor, the woman removed her veil and cloak, revealingeyes narrowed with arrogance, her lips curled in a smirk that was both familiar and chilling.
