Jillian POV:

The morning sun was too bright. I sat at the kitchen island, staring at the marble. Alex was humming in the kitchen, playing the part of the perfect boyfriend.

"Here we are," Alex said, sliding a plate toward me.

Pancakes. Burnt at the edges.

"I made them myself," he said, leaning against the counter, checking his watch. "Eat up. I have a meeting."

I picked up the fork. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A synced message from "The Omega Prank."

Alex (Alpha): Made the stray eat the burnt ones. I'm saving my appetite for lunch with Charlotte.

I looked at the pancakes. I looked at him. He wasn't trying to poison me—he just didn't care enough to feed me properly. It was a small indignity, but it cut deeper than a knife.

"I'm not hungry," I said quietly.

Alex's eyes narrowed. The charm vanished, replaced by the Alpha's irritation. "I made breakfast. You eat it. Don't be ungrateful, Jillian. It's unbecoming."

He didn't wait for me to argue. He grabbed the plate, walked to the trash can, and scraped the food into the bin.

"Fine. Starve," he said cold. "I have a meeting at the pack house. Don't wait up."

The door clicked shut.

I didn't cry. I didn't throw up. I just sat there in the silence, staring at the trash can.

He treated me like an accessory. A doll to be played with and put on a shelf.

My phone buzzed again.

Charlotte (Beta): Did she cry?

Alex (Alpha): No. She's sulking. It's getting boring.

Boring. That's all I was.

I stood up and walked to the calendar.

You gave me the wrong mate, I told the Moon Goddess. But I will fix your mistake.

The ice in my heart was growing. I didn't need poison to feel dead inside.

Jillian POV:

Two weeks later, the silence in the house was deafening. Alex barely spoke to me, treating me more like a roommate he was evicting soon.

"Get dressed," he commanded one evening, throwing a garment bag onto the bed. "The Obsidian Pack Charity Gala. You're coming."

I unzipped the bag. The dress was sheer. Too sheer. It was a statement piece, designed to show off the body beneath, leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Alex, this is... revealing," I whispered.

"It's expensive," he said, adjusting his cufflinks. "Wear it. Look pretty. Don't speak unless spoken to."

The Gala was dripping with crystal chandeliers and the scent of old money. As we entered, the whispers started. They weren't hiding it anymore. They knew the bet was almost over.

And then I saw Charlotte. She stood on the dais, wearing the Moonstone Necklace. It glowed against her skin, a beacon of my humiliation.

Alex guided me to the front row, his grip bruising.

"And now, for the main event!" the auctioneer announced. "Item number one. A rare, blue diamond collar. Encrusted with sapphires. Perfect for... displaying ownership."

The crowd chuckled.

"One million," Alex shouted.

The room gasped.

"Five million!" another Alpha shouted.

"Twenty million," Alex said calmly.

Silence.

"Sold! To Alpha Alex Bradley!"

Alex stood up. He didn't send me to pay. He walked onto the stage, took the collar, and walked back to me.

The room went deadly quiet.

"Stand up," he ordered.

I stood, my legs shaking.

He unclasped the heavy, jeweled collar. "Turn around."

"Alex, please," I begged softly. "Everyone is watching."

"Exactly," he hissed in my ear. "You wanted to be my mate? Then wear my mark."

He snapped the collar around my neck. The lock clicked. It was heavy, cold, and tight. A symbol of slavery, not love.

"Beautiful," he said loud enough for the room to hear. He patted my cheek.

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Phones were out, recording. #TheAlphasPet.

Alex turned and walked toward the side exit where Charlotte was waiting. He didn't look back.

I stood there, the diamonds heavy on my throat, burning with shame. I touched the cold metal.

Enjoy your laugh, Obsidian Pack, I thought, my inner wolf snarling. This collar isn't a mark of ownership. It's a declaration of war.

Jillian POV:

The humiliation didn't stop at the Gala. It was Elder Eleanor's eightieth birthday. The matriarch despised me.

"You will present a gift," Alex had ordered. "Something handmade. Show some effort."

I had spent nights painting the Silver Lake forest. It was the only piece of home I had left.

The banquet hall smelled of roasted meat and judgment. Elder Eleanor sat on her throne, eyes sharp as a hawk's.

"The Omega has a gift," Alex announced, bored.

I stepped forward, holding the covered canvas. "Happy Birthday, Elder Eleanor."

I pulled the cloth away.

Gasps rang out.

My blood ran cold.

It wasn't my landscape. The canvas was a crude, grotesque painting of Eleanor's face on a pig's body, roasting on a spit.

"Abomination!" Eleanor shrieked. "Insolent cur!"

"No!" I cried. "This isn't mine! I painted the forest! Someone switched it!"

I looked at Charlotte. She was covering a smirk behind a champagne flute.

"Alex, please," I begged. "You saw me painting the trees!"

Alex looked at the painting, then at me. He knew. He had to know. But he sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Grandmother, she has no taste," Alex said dismissively. "I'll have her removed."

"Removed?" Eleanor roared. "She insulted the Matriarch! She needs discipline!"

"She's just an Omega, Grandmother," Alex said, trying to de-escalate, but not defending me. "It's not worth the effort."

"It is to me! Guards! The cane!"

Two warriors grabbed my arms. Alex stepped back. He didn't stop them. He just poured himself a drink, looking away.

"Ten strikes," Eleanor commanded.

The cane came down. It wasn't the Silver Whip—that would kill me—but the heavy wood cracked against my back with bone-breaking force.

CRACK.

I bit my tongue to keep from screaming.

CRACK.

I locked eyes with Alex. He was checking his phone.

That was the moment. Not the pain of the wood, but the indifference in his eyes. He wasn't a monster who enjoyed my pain; he was a coward who wouldn't lift a finger to stop it.

By the tenth strike, I was slumped on the floor.

"Get her out of my sight," Eleanor spat.

As the guards dragged me away, I saw Charlotte whisper in Alex's ear. He finally smiled.

I didn't pass out. I memorized that smile. It was the fuel I needed.