Private maid escapes Alpha Heir

Chapter 2

In everyone's eyes, Ethan was the most dazzling young werewolf in the Moonridge Pack. As the Alpha heir to the pack, the 23-year-old Ethan was handsome and incredibly wealthy.

He was young, but he was already handling most of the pack's business. Everyone figured he'd take over from Alpha James in a couple of years and become the next Alpha.

He wore custom-tailored coats, drove a limited-edition off-roader, and carried an air of expensive, aloof grace at every Moonlight Ball.

Not to mention, he was single. When he met his fated mate at eighteen, he had bluntly told the girl he felt nothing for her and rejected her outright. He then announced to the entire pack that he wouldn't be controlled by fate. He declared he would chase his own love and find someone he truly cared for. As soon as that word got out, countless women were spurred to elbow their way into Ethan's life. They dreamed of being by his side, doing his food tasting, and receiving jewelry from him—but they didn't know the truth.

Ethan was like a bomb waiting to go off at any moment. When he was in a good mood, he would toss you a gemstone bracelet he'd just bought at an auction or thoughtfully ask if you were tired. But he was mercurial and temperamental. If you placed his cutlery at even a slight angle, he could scream at you until you were in tears in front of all the other servants. If you said the wrong word when his mood was foul, he'd throw you into the confinement cell, leaving you without food and water until he felt better. He might even, on a whim, use you as prey for the Hunter's Moon Festival, tossing you into the hunting grounds for the wolves to chase.

As for the food tasting... being the Alpha heir, everyone—from his own brothers to the Alphas of other packs—wanted him dead. Some of the dishes served to him were just unpalatable; others were lethal.

I once took a sip of juice from his table. Just one sip, and I was writhing on the floor, clutching my stomach in agony. That night, I had my stomach pumped in the hospital, my heart rate monitor beeping frantically. Ethan sat in a chair outside the room, scrolling through his phone, not even batting an eye. When the doctor told him I wouldn't have survived if I'd arrived half an hour later, he just murmured, "Got it."

The juice had been poisoned by a rival pack, but that didn't change anything. I still had to taste his food before his next meal.

And this bracelet on my wrist? He'd tossed it to me last year, claiming he'd picked it up on a whim while out shopping and that it wasn't worth much. I looked it up later; the auction house had appraised the gemstone bracelet at three million.

"Wear it. Don't take it off," he had said.

It wasn't a reward; it was a mark of ownership. It was a message to everyone: This Omega belongs to me.

My 90,000 salary, my bracelet, all the seemingly glittering aspects of my life—I paid for them with my life. Zoey didn't know that. She only saw the surface-level glamor and assumed a windfall had landed in my lap. I didn't bother explaining. I just looked at her and said softly, "If you want to do it, go ahead."

She froze, likely not expecting me to be so calm, but she quickly slipped back into that look of certain victory. "Rest assured. I'll definitely do better than you."

I turned and walked away. A gust of wind blew down the hallway, carrying the chill of early autumn. I clutched my hem, suddenly desperate to cry. If I could, I would dash out of this villa right now and never come back.

But I couldn't. Because Ethan wouldn't let me leave.