Rejected by My Alpha's Lies

Grandma Miriam stirred in her hospital bed, and Alpha Jason carefully adjusted her blanket. The room was immaculate, a testament to my relentless care, and the blanket was cozy, just the way she liked it. Grandma’s cheeks had a healthy glow, a small comfort amidst the chaos of our lives.

Beta Santana couldn’t help but commend, “You made a wise choice marking Amber as your mate, Alpha. Look how well she cares for Grandma Miriam. If it were Sage, she’d never manage so capably!” He brought up last year’s incident when Sage was supposed to look after her mother in the hospital but ended up causing more harm, a story that still made me wince.

Alpha Jason frowned slightly, his broad shoulders tense under his tailored shirt. “Sage is here to enjoy life, not to endure hardships,” he said, his voice firm but distant, as if he were defending her even now.

“She’s not Amber; it’s no surprise she’s not nurturing,” Beta Santana added, his tone light but cutting.

I felt a sting in my eyes as I glanced at the basin by my feet. Inside were clothes stained by Grandma’s vomit. It had taken me two full hours to clean them meticulously, my hands raw from scrubbing. Three years into life with the Russell Pack, I had indeed proven the perfect caretaker, enduring every hardship without complaint.

When the pack house was being renovated, the construction workers needed extra hands for mixing mortar and passing bricks. Alpha Jason was on a mission for the Lycan Kingdom, unable to return. Grandma Miriam said she was too old, her back in poor condition, and I suggested hiring some help. But she chided me for not understanding the value of money and wasting Alpha Jason’s hard-earned resources. Unable to reach him, I had no choice but to tackle the labor myself.

It was June, and the sun was fierce and relentless, scorching my skin painfully. For three straight months, I worked under the blazing sun, shedding over twenty pounds before the house was finally completed. My wolf whimpered in the back of my mind, urging me to rest, but I ignored her, driven by duty and the need to prove myself.

Later, Grandma took up more laundry jobs at home. With scars on my left cheek and a blind left eye, finding a job was nearly impossible. She had me help her with the laundry work, which led to a significant increase in the volume of clothes she accepted.

Initially, she only took in light, easy-to-wash garments, but soon even heavy coats and military jackets piled up. During washing, she insisted she was too old and frail to handle those clothes alone, leaving it all to me.

I lost track of how many clothes I washed on the freezing winter nights. My once soft and delicate hands had turned as rough as sandpaper, utterly unrecognizable. But I never complained. I couldn’t. Not when Grandma Miriam had taken me in as a pup, saving me from the fate of an orphanage. Not when Alpha Jason, despite everything, had marked me as his mate, binding me to this pack, this life.

Yet, as I stood there, scrubbing clothes until my fingers bled, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it. The bond between us was still there, faint but unbreakable, a constant reminder of what I had lost—and what I had yet to lose.