The Dumped Poor Girl Is the Alpha's Daughter

At the dinner table, Aunt Sara placed a large platter of bloodstone claws, a rare delicacy from my Pack's territory, steaming hot. Dorian tried to cover up the tension, "This is Alice's gift-authentic Crimson Fang Claws she had a friend send from our northern Pack." Aunt Sara didn't even look up. She just reached for her plate with a half-hearted grunt. After a few moments, she glanced at me with a sharp, calculating gaze. "Alice, I heard you graduated last year. What's your monthly salary?" Dorian quickly intervened"Most fresh grads get around five thousand." Aunt Sara froze, her claws-yes, claws-paused mid-air. "That low? Doesn't even match the wage of a Pack servant," . "Crimson Fang Claws are so tiny, though. First time I've seen such small ones." Dorian shot me a quick glance, clearly worried, urging me with his eyes to let it go. But this time, my temper was already too far gone. "Aunt Sara, if the claws are so small, why bother eating them? Or is your family too poor to buy something more fitting for you?" Aunt Sara's face reddened, her grip tightening on her claw, but I wasn't finished. I gestured at the sparsely filled table, barely enough for three. "In my Pack, even the poorest members would never serve guests with so little. Or else they'd be laughed at for being too cheap." With that, I watched Aunt Sara's blood pressure visibly rise. She slammed her claws onto the table with an audible crack. I stood up, brushing the crumbs off my hands. "Well, since you don't like the claws, Aunt Sara, I'll take them off your hands." I started scooping the claws onto my plate, offering a few to Dorian. "I'll make sure to eat what you won't. No point in wasting good food, right?" Aunt Sara's face darkened, turning almost purple. She shot to her feet, her voice sharp as a wolf's growl. "No wonder you went to some wildling college. The way you speak to elders? No manners, no upbringing at all!" "Funny, Aunt Sara, you're the one lecturing me about manners when your precious son chases after a lowly girl like me. Maybe the problem isn't me, but your man-child of a son." Dorian's hand shot out to grab my arm, but I jerked it away. "Let me go, Dorian," Aunt Sara, seeing red, lunged at me, her claws extended, ready to tear into me. But I was faster, having learned close combat since I was young. I sidestepped easily, watching as Aunt Sara crashed into the wall, her hand throbbing with pain. Dorian stood frozen for a moment, caught between his sobbing mother and me. Finally, he snapped. Without saying a word, he shoved the bottle of Crimson Moon Liquor I had given him back into my hands. "Alice, you shouldn't have treated my mom like that," he muttered, his voice laced with anger. "Take it back," he sneered, "we don't drink this kind of filthy liquor." My eyes widened with disbelief. This wasn't just any liquor-it was a rare blend, aged for decades in ancient barrels, infused with healing herbs from my father's secret stash. This was the kind of drink only a true Alpha would understand. But Dorian didn't appreciate it. I looked at Aunt Sara, who had stopped crying and was now smirking with an air of superiority. "Oh, still whining over a lowly girl, Dorian? That's your problem-you think you're above your Pack, above everyone else. But in the end, you're just a weak , too scared to stand up to your mother." Dorian's face twisted with disbelief. "What are you talking about?" I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Aunt Sara, whose smirk was now a sneer. "You're right, Aunt Sara, I come from a lowly background. But I'd rather be lowborn with dignity than be a highborn with a man-child for a son." "Not drinking this kind of liquor?" "It's not for drinking, Dorian. I use it to soothe my joints and calm the burn of my Alpha blood. You wouldn't understand, would you?" I stood at the door. "And you, Dorian... You're a grown man, yet you still suckle from your mommy's teat. "