I decide to skip breakfast.
I want to spend as little time around these people as I can. When I was summoned to return home, I was never under any delusions. I didn’t think my mother had had a change of heart and suddenly the love for me had awoken within her. I never thought I was anything more than an inconvenience to her husband, whom she married only one year after our family had shattered. However, the one thing I held on to was that there was one person in this house who still cared for me, at least to some extent.
But last night, I finally saw Darius’s true face. It hurt more than I would have expected, but life has been a series of disappointments for me, so I can move past this one as well.
I make my way downstairs, my steps echoing in the empty hallways. The house is quiet at this hour, most of the staff still preparing for the day. I head toward the kitchen, hoping to get some food quickly and leave before anyone notices.
The kitchen is warm, filled with the scent of fresh bread and brewing coffee. James is there, directing a younger staff member who is chopping vegetables at the counter. He looks up when I enter, surprise flickering across his face.
“Miss Violet.” James straightens, setting down the clipboard he was holding. “Breakfast will be served in the dining room in about half an hour.”
“I know.” I move toward the counter, keeping my voice light. “I need to head out early, so I wanted to grab something to go.”
His brow furrows slightly. “I can have something prepared for you—”
A voice cuts him off from behind him, sharp and dismissive. “Some people just can’t adjust to how things work around here.”
I go still.
The head cook, a woman in her forties with sharp features and graying brown hair, stands at the stove. She’s stirring something in a large pot, her back to me, but the scorn in her voice is unmistakable.
“Back one day and already disrupting the morning routine,” she continues, her tone dripping with contempt. “There’s a way things are done in this household.”
James’s face goes pale. “Susan…”
I look over James’s shoulder at the woman. My voice comes out calm. Controlled. “What did you just say?”
She doesn’t turn around. “You heard me.”
“Say it again.” I take a step forward. “To my face this time.”
She finally turns, wooden spoon still in hand, her expression disapproving. “I said you’re disrupting the householdroutine. One day back, and you think you can just change how things work. You don’t even belong here.”
A coldness settles in my chest. That same numbness from last night, but sharper now. Harder. James opens his mouth, probably to try to diffuse the situation, but I hold up a hand. “Don’t.”
His mouth snaps shut.
I walk toward the cook slowly, deliberately. She watches me approach, her lip curling slightly. I reach out and grab her wrist.
She sneers, immediately trying to yank her arm back. Her shifter strength should make the movement effortless, but the moment she pulls, I twist it, stepping into her space and applying pressure to a specific point just below her elbow.
She gasps, her face going pale as pain shoots through her arm. The wooden spoon clatters to the floor.
“What—” Her voice is strangled. “What are you doing?”
“Since you have so many opinions,” I say quietly, my voice cold as ice, “let’s go discuss them in front of the Alpha.”
I start to push her toward the door, maintaining the pressure on her joint. She can’t resist without risking serious injury, and we both know it.
“Wait, stop…” Her voice is panicked now.
“No.” I keep moving, keeping the angle precise. “You said it in front of me. Surely you can say it in front of my stepfather.”
Her face drains of color. “Miss Violet, please…”
James steps in front of us, his hands raised, eyes wide with shock. “Miss Violet, perhaps we should let this matter go. I’m sure Susan—”
“Why?” I stop and look him in the eye. My voice is hard. Uncompromising. “If she can say that to me in front of the other staff, why can’t she say it in front of the Alpha?”
