That night, I was lying in our chamber, wondering how my life had turned into a never-ending ordeal of pain. It was a far cry from the life I once knew, and I couldn't help but ponder how I had ended up in this living nightmare.

"Oh Dante, I miss you deeply" I muttered under my breath.

In the past, I had been a strong and independent person, unafraid to speak my mind and stand up for myself. But now, it was as though I had lost all that strength, and I had been reduced to submission by Lucien, the alpha I had once rejected.

As I closed my eyes, the quietness of the night allowed memories of my past decisions to flood my mind. I had believed that I was making the right choices, following my heart, but now I felt as though I was paying a heavy price for my actions.

Our chamber, which used to be a place of comfort, had become a prison of my own making. It felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on me. The air in the room seemed thick with my humiliation, and I couldn't help but wonder how I had allowed my life to take this tragic turn.

I thought about my father, the one person I had always relied on for guidance and protection. He was missing, and I worried about his safety. The hope of his return was the only thing that kept me going, a distant dream that seemed further away with each passing day.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I contemplated my situation. I longed for a way out, a chance to break free from the chains that bound me to Lucien and regain my independence.

But as I drifted into a restless sleep, I couldn't help but question whether that day would ever come. The uncertainty of my future hung over me, and I wondered if I would ever escape this life of torment that had become my new reality. My eyes opened again, I was crying subconsciously, I began to cry, my heart aching severely.

My sobs echoing while I lay. I couldn't help but feel the weight of my despair pressing down on me. It was as though the walls themselves were closing in on my misery. Each tear that streamed down my face was a testament to the pain I felt deep within.

As I wept, the sound of my own sorrow filled the room, drowning out everything else. It was in that moment, amid the echoes of my pain, that something unexpected happened. Suddenly, Lucien stirred in his sleep.

I turned to see him, my vision blurry from tears, and my heart skipped a beat. He had wrapped his strong arms around me in a tender embrace, holding me close. It was as if he had heard my cries and responded to them with a touch of compassion I hadn't expected.

In that vulnerable moment, he muttered softly, "I love you."

I was stunned, my sobs catching in my throat as I stared at him in disbelief. The words he had spoken were like a balm to my wounded heart, but they also left me questioning their sincerity. Could it be that, beneath his tough exterior, there was a glimmer of genuine affection?

As I looked at him, his face was relaxed, and he slept with an innocence that contradicted the ruthless alpha I had known. His features, usually marked by an imposing presence, now appeared almost peaceful in slumber.

I couldn't help but wonder if I had imagined his declaration of love. Had it been a dream or a product of my own longing for some form of tenderness in this cold and unforgiving world?

I cautiously moved away from his hold, trying not to disturb his peaceful sleep. The room was still, and the silence hung heavy in the air. I continued to watch him, my heart torn between hope and skepticism.

I saw a side of Lucien that I hadn't expected. He appeared almost vulnerable in his sleep, his expression free from the usual hardness that marked his demeanor. It was as if the weight of his responsibilities and the struggles of his role as an alpha had temporarily faded away.

I couldn't deny that his words had taken me by surprise. They had been uttered with a sincerity that had struck a chord deep within me. But I couldn't ignore the countless cruel and domineering actions that had defined our interactions.

"Did he really love me? What if he truly loved me and was just punishing me for my crimes?"

As I sat there, contemplating the complex enigma that was Lucien, I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to him than met the eye. Was it possible that he truly cared for me, even in the midst of the torment he had subjected me to.

I watched in awe as Lucien stirred from his slumber, his eyes slowly opening to meet mine. His words, uttered with a soft sincerity, filled the room, "I truly love you."

My eyes widened in shock. The unexpected declaration left me stunned, my heart racing as I tried to process what had just happened. It was as though a ray of hope had pierced the darkness that had enveloped my life.

Before I could fully comprehend the situation, Lucien drew me close, his strong arms wrapping around me in a gentle embrace. Time seemed to stand still as he leaned in and planted a tender kiss on my lips.

I was taken aback, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of this sudden display of affection. It was a stark contrast to the harsh and domineering alpha I had known. His kiss was a gesture of tenderness that left me both bewildered and conflicted.

In the hushed moments that followed our unexpected kiss, Lucien's gaze bore into mine, his eyes filled with an intensity that seemed to strip away all pretenses. He spoke in a voice that held a touch of regret, "I'm sorry for how I've treated you, Corrigan. I know I've been harsh and unkind, and I regret it."

His words were a balm to my wounded heart, and I felt the walls I had built around myself begin to crumble. It was as though a weight had been lifted, and for the first time, I saw a vulnerability in Lucien that I had never imagined.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I responded, my voice trembling, "I've been living in a nightmare, Lucien. I've longed for the person you are right now, and I never thought I'd see this side of you."

With a deep breath, I found the words to respond, "Lucien, I appreciate your apology. It means a lot to me, and I want to believe that there's more to us."

His gaze never wavered, and he replied, "I know I've been ruthless, and I can't erase the pain I've caused you. But I'm willing to change, to be the person you need me to be."

"I forgive you, Lucien," I said with a small smile, my heart aching to let go of the past and embrace a different future.

His eyes softened, and he squeezed my hand gently. "Thank you, Corrigan. I won't let you down."

We leaned in for another kiss, sealing our commitment to a new beginning.

But as our lips met, a sudden howl echoed in the distance, a mournful cry that sent shivers down my spine.

The next morning, I woke up with a start, my heart pounding as if I'd just been jolted awake from a terrible nightmare. But this was no dream; it was my harsh reality. Cold water splashed over me, soaking the thin sheets and sending an icy shock through my body.

My eyes snapped open, and there he stood, the man who had become the source of my recent turmoil and suffering – Lucien. The dim, early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a pallid glow over his features. His face bore a stern expression, the lines of his jaw and the hardness of his eyes leaving no room for doubt. I was wide awake, and he was the relentless force that had torn me from my fragile slumber.

"Get up, you useless thing!" his voice was filled with anger and impatience, and I could feel the tension in the room thickening with each passing moment.

For a fleeting second, I wondered if this were all a terrible dream. In that haze of confusion, I closed my eyes tightly, hoping to will myself back to the happier dream I had been lost in just moments ago. But the harsh reality left no room for wishes or fantasies. The next sensation I felt was the searing pain of a sharp slap across my face.

My eyes flew open, and I jerked upright from the bed, the sting of his actions a painful reminder of the harsh reality. My cheeks burned with the impact, and I clutched the damp sheets beneath me.

Lucien's eyes bore into mine, his gaze unwavering, and I could see the anger and frustration etched into his features. His dark hair was disheveled, a contrast to the calculated precision he usually maintained. He cursed at me, his words a barrage of anger and impatience.

I didn't dare utter a word, and a deep sadness washed over me as I realized that the moments of kindness and affection I had experienced recently were fleeting, fragile wisps of a distant dream.

The room remained shrouded in the darkness of early morning, the only source of light being the pale glow that filtered through the curtains. I sat there, my body trembling, as I tried to make sense of this abrupt awakening. It was yet another morning where the weight of uncertainty loomed heavily, and I couldn't help but fear what he might demand next.

The room, once filled with the echoes of his harsh words, was now enveloped in a heavy silence. I could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant chirping of birds outside, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air.

Lucien turned away from me, his expression still a mix of irritation and impatience. He strode toward the window, his broad shoulders tense beneath the fabric of his black t-shirt. I watched his movements, the rigidness of his posture, as he gazed out at the world beyond. The room felt empty and cold, a reflection of the emotional distance that had grown between us.

It was a painful reminder of the turmoil of our complicated relationship, a constant push and pull of emotions that left me feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty. I had been through so much, and yet, the torment never seemed to end.

Finally, Lucien turned back to face me, his gaze piercing, and I knew that this was not a moment of respite. He had no intention of letting me return to my interrupted slumber.

"Clean this room. It's a mess," he ordered, his voice laced with authority, and I knew that there was no room for protest. I obeyed, my movements slow and methodical as I climbed out of the bed.

The room itself was dimly lit, the curtains filtering out most of the early morning light. The bed I had just vacated was neatly made, a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded in the previous moments. The air smelled faintly of the cleaning supplies that had been used to maintain the room's pristine appearance.

Lucien stood by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression expectant. He watched my every move, his eyes unwavering, as if daring me to challenge his authority. I couldn't help but feel the weight of his expectations pressing down on me.

I began the task of cleaning, my steps slow and deliberate, as if I were walking on eggshells. Lucien's presence loomed over me, a constant reminder of my submission. As I picked up the scattered clothes, folded the scattered sheets, and dusted every surface, I could feel his gaze on my every move.

"Faster, Corrigan," he demanded, and I quickened my pace, desperately trying to meet his expectations. My heart ached as I worked, my mind filled with a sense of futility.

"I'm trying," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of my submission bearing down on me.

"Try harder," Lucien's voice was unyielding, and I knew that there was no room for excuses. My eyes welled with tears, but I blinked them back, unwilling to let him see my vulnerability.

I continued to clean, my movements mechanical and precise, as I scrubbed and tidied every corner of the room.

Once I believed I had completed the task to his satisfaction, I hesitated, looking at him with a glimmer of hope. But hope, it seemed, was in short supply in this room. Lucien entered, his steps deliberate and filled with authority.

He examined the room, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized every detail. His expression remained stern, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as he seemed dissatisfied with the results.

"Corrigan, it's still not clean enough," he stated, his voice firm, and my heart sank as he uttered the dreaded words.

A rush of frustration washed over me, but I dared not voice it. Instead, I simply nodded, my body weary from the never-ending task. The room was a testament to my efforts, a reflection of the painstaking work I had put into making it pristine.

But Lucien's standards were impossibly high, and I was caught in a cycle of perpetual submission. With a deep breath, I set to work once again, determined to meet his expectations.

My movements were deliberate, each action calculated to ensure every surface gleamed. As I worked, I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I tried to wipe them away discreetly, unwilling to let him see the vulnerability that threatened to bubble to the surface.

Despite the internal turmoil, I couldn't help but notice the rigidness of Lucien's posture. He watched me with an intensity that left no room for defiance. It was as if he were waiting for me to falter, to make a mistake that he could use against me.

Once the room met his standards, he turned away, his expression unreadable. I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief, even if it was temporary. It was a small victory, a momentary break from the constant scrutiny.

But there was no rest to be had. Lucien's voice cut through the silence, his orders unwavering.

"Now clean the kitchen and make me breakfast."

I nodded, a sense of resignation washing over me. The pressure was immense, and I knew that there was no room for error. With a quick turn, I left the room and made my way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a stark contrast to the pristine appearance of the room I had just cleaned. Dishes were piled high in the sink, and the remnants of yesterday's meals were scattered across the countertops. It was a daunting task, one that left me feeling overwhelmed.

As I began to clean, I couldn't help but think of the countless hours I had spent in this very room, preparing meals for Lucien. It was a constant reminder of my role in his life, a role that felt more like servitude than anything else.

I scrubbed the dishes with a determined focus, the sound of water splashing and the clinking of plates echoing through the kitchen. The smell of soap and cleaning supplies filled the air, a stark reminder of the endless tasks that had become my daily routine.

Finally, I managed to clear the sink of dirty dishes and wiped down the countertops, leaving the kitchen in a much-improved state. With a sense of relief, I turned to prepare breakfast for Lucien. It was a task I had grown all too familiar with, and I moved with a sense of purpose.

Once the meal was ready, I plated it and carried it to the dining area. It was a simple breakfast, but I had made it with care, hoping to meet his expectations. I set the plate in front of him and took a step back, ready to leave the room.

But as I turned to go, his voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Sit here, eat with me," he said, and I froze in surprise. It was a request I hadn't anticipated, a stark departure from his usual behavior. My mind raced, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of confusion and apprehension.

"Why?" I dared to ask, my voice shaking. The room was filled with an uneasy tension, and I couldn't begin to fathom what this new development meant for our tumultuous relationship.

"I said sit, Corrigan," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. With a trembling heart, I took a seat beside him, my mind filled with a swirl of emotions. The room felt heavy with the weight of uncertainty, and I couldn't help but wonder if this was another trap!

After the tense and quiet breakfast with Lucien, I knew I had to fulfill his expectations and clean the kitchen thoroughly. The lingering taste of his authority still clung to me, and I couldn't afford to disappoint him. I began by clearing the dirty dishes from the dining table, carrying them to the sink. The clinking of plates and utensils seemed to mock me, a reminder of the relentless cycle of servitude I had become trapped in. The sink was piled high with dishes, remnants of meals by others, even the maids. I rolled up my sleeves, took a deep breath, and started to scrub them one by one. The sound of water splashing and the scent of soap filled the room as I worked diligently. With each dish I cleaned, I couldn't help but think of the immense pressure I was under. The burden of being Lucien's submissive mistress was crushing, and I had to prove myself every day. Could he not just see that I was doing enough already? Once the dishes were finally clean and stacked neatly in the drying rack, I turned my attention to the countertops he had asked me to clean. They were littered with crumbs and stains, evidence of past meals that had left their mark. I reached for a sponge and began to scrub vigorously, trying to erase every trace of imperfection. As I worked, I couldn't help but wonder if my efforts would ever be enough to satisfy Lucien's expectations. He was an alpha with impossibly high standards, and I was constantly struggling to meet them. I knew I was being punished intentionally. "It really hurts", I sobbed gently. I felt like a maid, a live-in maid, and it made me feel terrible. One of my loyal maids sneaked into the kitchen to assist me. Luciem had warned them not to help and I feared what would happen if he found her with me. "Leave please, " I warn "I can't , I can't let you suffer like this, I've been watching you suffer and I can't do that anymore." She insisted. "You know what will happen if you are found here. Please leave," I pleaded. Reluctantly, she walked away, almost teary. "I'm sorry," she added, and walked away even before I could give her a reply. I felt sad. Sad that I was being treated this way, but I decided to shake it off and do what I'm expected to do.. Finally, I moved on to the floor, sweeping away any loose crumbs and debris. It was a tedious task, but I knew that I had to leave no room for criticism. The room had to be spotless, a reflection of my commitment to serving him. The kitchen gradually transformed from a cluttered mess to a pristine space. I stepped back to survey my work, hoping that it would meet Lucien's approval. Just as I finished, he entered the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room for any imperfections. I held my breath, waiting for his verdict. Lucien's expression was stern, but he nodded in approval, "Good, Corrigan. You've done well this time, I would give you a 6/10." I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that this task had met his expectations. It was a small victory, a fleeting moment of validation. I didn't bother about the score at all. At least I didn't have to redo anything. With a sense of relief, "Thank you, can I leave please. I hurt a finger while cleaning, I need to attend to it." He turned to leave, his authority firm "Remember, Corrigan, your duties as my mate come before anything else." I nodded, a sense of determination in my voice,"I won't forget." As Lucien left the room, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. The burden of my role as his submissive mate was unrelenting, but I was determined to prove myself, to show that I could meet his expectations. ***** The night had fallen, casting the room in a dim, dusky light. Lucien and I were alone, the air heavy with tension. It was clear that he had something on his mind, and I waited nervously for him to speak. Lucien's gaze was piercing, his gray eyes locked onto mine. He leaned forward, his expression a mix of curiosity and impatience. "Why did you reject me, Corrigan?" Lucien's voice was cold and demanding. The question was out of nowhere, but I had to answer it. "Maybe it would save me from his torment," I thought. I swallowed hard, my voice trembling as I replied, "I was young, and I made a terrible mistake." Lucien's patience wore thin, and he leaned in, his voice sharp, "Mistake? What kind of mistake?" Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to find an answer. I had no reason for rejecting him, but I couldn't admit that I had been foolish and impulsive. "Speak up, Corrigan," Lucien scolded me severely, his anger palpable. "I..." I began, but my voice trailed off. I had no valid excuse, and I knew it. Lucien's anger boiled over, and he slammed his hand against the table, making me jump. "Your rejection nearly destroyed me, Corrigan," he shouted, his fury unleashed. "Do you have any idea what I went through during my exile? The pain and loneliness I endured because of you?" Tears streamed down my face as I sat in silence, unable to provide a reasonable explanation for my actions. Lucien's anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of weariness. "You can't undo the past, Corrigan," he said with a heavy sigh. "You can't erase the years we've lost." I nodded, a sense of determination filling my heart. This was the first step in a journey of redemption, a path I was willing to follow, no matter how difficult it might be. "I'll do whatever it takes, Lucien," I vowed with sincerity. "I won't run away from you again." As the night deepened, the room felt less oppressive, and I couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. The conversation had been painful, but it was a necessary step on the path toward reconciliation.