Chapter 2
As the insults continued unabated, I found my mind drifting. This was a familiar scene—my family's derision had become a numbing soundtrack to my life. If it were just Sabrina and Olga, I might dismiss their scorn. But from my father—the man of my own blood—it should cut deeper. And yet, I wasn't sure if it still did, or if the pain was simply buried deep within my frozen heart. The saddest part? Despite my anger, I couldn't bring myself to hate him, and that insatiable desire for his approval lingered—a craving destined to be unfulfilled.
Hera always urged me to stand up for myself, to speak my truth because I had nothing more to lose. I heeded her advice on every other matter; she was the wisest being I knew, after all. It was foolish not to listen to her on this.
Hera came out when I was 19. Actually no, 18. I waited for her, thinking I'd never get my wolf. Turns out she was already there, just watching me without saying anything for 6 months and she finally spoke the day I turned 19. She was just quiet like that. The only being I was truly comfortable with.
"Are you even listening?" Sabrina's voice tore through my reverie. I was about to dismiss her internally when I felt a sharp sting across my face. My father had struck me. Tears threatened, but I refused to shed them as I met his gaze.
"What a disgrace," he muttered, adjusting his suit jacket before retaking his seat.
"Pack your things, Renée, you're leaving this house today," he announced, his words dropping like a guillotine.
Stunned, I managed to stutter, "Wh-what?"
He rolled his eyes with impatience. "I'm tired of you. Since you have no mate now, and since Sabrina does, you will replace her as the bride intended for the prince."
Rage flooded through me like wildfire.
"You're going to marry me off?!" It was the first time I raised my voice to him, an outburst too powerful to contain.
He seemed taken aback momentarily, but quickly masked his surprise. "Watch your tone," he cautioned.
Hera's voice resounded within me: "Say your mind, Renée."
Emboldened, I unleashed the torrent of my feelings. "How could you do this to me? Aren't you supposed to protect me—as my father? To see me as a mere replacement... You never considered me worthy of the primary role. You may despise me, but how can you treat me—a part of you—this way?"
The room fell into stunned silence; they had never witnessed such defiance from me.
My father's response was chillingly composed. "Would you prefer I send away your sister who already has a mate?"
"Sabrina hasn't even introduced us to her mate. For all we know, he might not even exist," I challenged.
Sabrina gasped, feigning offense. "How dare you?
"My daughter is not a liar" her mother piped up.
I rolled my eyes "Show him to us then"
She went mute.
My father's final words hung heavy in the air. "Enough. I don't want to hear one more word from you. Our family owes theirs a favor, and who better to marry that cold-hearted prince but you. Your departure is set for tomorrow morning. This discussion is over." He rose abruptly and left the living room.
I let out a breath that felt like surrender. My hatred for him was a tangible thing, my chest tightened with it, and I knew tears were threatening once again.
"Renée, just breathe," Hera coaxed, and I did. There was no way I would let them see me cry.
"You should probably start packing, dear. You wouldn't want to leave anything behind when you go to your husband's house, would you?" Olga's voice dripped with malicious pleasure as she spoke.
She and her daughter Sabrina stood to leave, but not before Sabrina leaned in close and hissed in my ear, "Oh, and I heard your soon-to-be husband is crippled."
Her snicker echoed after her as they left the room. I stood, knees shaking, the weight of the revelation anchoring me to the spot. Married off to a man reputed to be both cruel and disabled.
With a great effort, I made it upstairs to the sanctuary of my room, crumbling against the door once inside. The sobs broke free, and I screamed silently into my hands. How could my own father do this to me?
Hera's voice eventually reached me through the haze of my despair. "It's okay, Renée. The moon goddess has a plan for us. Perhaps leaving this toxic household is for the better."
"To be married off to a cripple and a heartless prince? I fail to see how my life might improve. From here, things can only get worse," I choked out between sobs.
"We will be fine, Ren," she sighed, though I doubted her words.
Escape was a fantasy; outside these walls, I'd be a rogue with no allies or protection. So, there was no choice but to endure.
I took a deep breath, wiping away my tears. If my mother had faced such a trial, she would have done so with courage. Following her example, I calmed myself with a breathing exercise and pushed up from the floor, dusting off my clothes from habit—useless, given the staff's relentless cleaning to avoid my father's wrath.
I began to pack, surrounding myself with the items I'd earned through my anonymous labor as a diner chef. The simplicity of that work appealed to me over any prestigious restaurant.
It was difficult to pack up my life, the only home I'd known, but Hera's support kept me going. By the time I finished, exhaustion claimed me, and I lay down, glancing around my room for possibly the last time.
Thoughts of the uncertain future raced through my mind as I drifted into oblivion.