Elena’s POVWeeks bled into one another like spilled ink, staining everything in shades of exhaustion and bitterness.

My life had shrunk to a single thread: a maid’s apron knotted around my waist, a rag in my hand, my name carved out of existence.

And yet, somehow, I survived.

I scrubbed, polished, fetched, bowed. I endured the whispers of servants who glanced at me with equal parts pity and glee.

The Alpha’s discarded mate, the criminal spared by mercy, the maid who once stood ...