ALPHA'S FATED MATE

Let the show begin

~~~Emily

I was so worried about meeting my fiancé that it was no surprise I couldn’t get a wink of sleep.

Even with the heavy curtains drawn and the house silent, my thoughts spun too fast for rest — a storm of questions with no answers. Who was this man they were marrying me off to?

What did he look like?

Was he cruel like them?

Is he really a werewolf like the rumors are saying?

The sharp, authoritative knock on the door came like a gunshot. I barely had time to sit up before the maids filed in, their faces stiff with forced politeness.

“Madam asked us to prepare you,” one of them said curtly.

And just like that, I was being prepared — again.

That was three hours ago.

Three hours of being scrubbed, plucked, powdered, and polished like a showpiece. They had trimmed my nails, slathered my skin in lotions, curled my lashes, and doused me in the kind of perfume that smelled expensive and cold. Like roses and secrets.

But the biggest insult had been my hair.

My beautiful, rebellious red hair.

They had tried to dye it a muted chestnut brown — the same exact shade Evelyn and my stepmother wore, like it was part of their uniform. As if changing my hair could erase the parts of me they couldn’t control.

I stared into the mirror now, alone at last. My hair, once vibrant, was now a strange mix of red and brown, like it refused to let go of its true color.

Like me.

The door creaked open again, and I barely had time to react before my stepmother swept in like a winter storm, with Evelyn slithering behind her, a smile already curled on her lips.

My stepmother’s eyes landed on me — more precisely, on my hair — and immediately narrowed.

“You call this chestnut brown?” she snapped, each word tight with fury. “It’s practically red.”

I turned slightly, seeing what she saw. The overhead light caught the strands, making the reddish tint all the more obvious — defiant, burning quietly like coals under ash.

“The miss hair is too bright to be darkened with just one dye” one of the maids offered weakly, avoiding her gaze.

“Then redye it,” my stepmother spat. “I want that mistake fixed before the introductions. If she shows up looking like this—”

“There’s no time,” Evelyn interrupted smoothly, stepping between her mother and the maids. “The Fuerte will be here anytime. We can't afford delays. You’ll ruin the whole schedule.”

She turned to me with that same sickeningly sweet smile. “But don’t worry, Emily. There’s another way.”

She held out a small case. Contacts.

“Dark brown,” she said. “They’ll cancel out that… fiery glint in your eyes. At least you’ll look more... appropriate.”

My stepmother hesitated, then gave a curt nod. “Fine. It’ll have to do.”

I sat still as the lenses were slipped into my eyes, dulling the warmth in them. When I looked back into the mirror, a stranger stared at me.

Gone was my forest green eyes.

Gone was the soft amber glow of my natural gaze. In its place was a deeper, colder shade of brown. Empty. Like them.

They stepped closer, both inspecting me like a product that needed adjusting.

My stepmother crossed her arms. “We’ve worked too hard to get to this point. Don’t ruin it. This marriage is your redemption. Your ticket out. Do what’s expected of you, and things will be fine.”

Her voice dipped into something darker. “But if you embarrass us, if you fail to impress the Fuerte family—”

“She’ll regret it,” Evelyn finished, her tone light but her eyes gleaming with threat. “You really don’t want to test us, Emily. We’ve tolerated your presence long enough. Don’t give us a reason to reconsider.”

Their words echoed in the silence as they turned and swept out of the room, their heels clicking against the marble floor like drumbeats of finality.

I sat still for a moment, letting their threats hang in the air like smoke.

I touched my dyed hair, the strange red-brown strands that refused to bend entirely to their will.

Good.

Then I looked back at the stranger in the mirror. The fake hair. The foreign eyes. The flawless skin and stiff blue dress that seems to compliment my skin.

I smiled.

They thought they had broken me.

But I was still here.

And I was done waiting.

Let them parade me like a Modory trophy. Let them think I was theirs.

I would play the role they wrote for me, obedient, quiet, grateful.

But only until the curtains fell.

"You all will pay", I whispered to myself.

Because no dye, no contact lens, no cruel command could change who I was beneath it all.

"They are waiting for you downstairs miss", a maid said.

I stood up, took one final look at myself and went downstairs.

Let the show begin.