MAID BY STATUS, DESTINED TO BE LUNA.

The walls of the Moon estate were colder than I’d imagined. Cold like something dead. Stone and silence, thick with shadow, ruled by a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to bring a room to its knees. Me. Diane Brittney. Once the darling of the Brittney empire. Now? Scrubbing those same bloody walls with bare hands and a bowed head. From private jets and gala balls to this—calloused palms, a servant’s uniform, and a life scheduled down to the second. No one here knew who I was. Not really. To them, I was just another lucky stray the Moons took in and fed. But they didn’t know the fire I carried under all this silence. Then came him—Alpha Rex Moon. I didn’t fear him. Not really. Not like the others. Because when you’ve lost everything, what’s left to be afraid of? They say he was born first, but the throne went to his younger brother. Grew up wild, bitter, cast off. Made a kingdom of his own just to keep from answering to the same boy he once rocked to sleep. And he did well for himself. Too well, maybe. Wealth pouring out of his ears. Power so sharp it cut people in half before he even said a word. And the stories… God. They said he sharpened his fangs on the skulls of traitors. Had a well of blood hidden beneath his mansion floor. Maybe bollocks, maybe not—but it kept people from getting too close. Women didn’t throw themselves at him, not like you'd expect. No, because love wasn’t a thing in his world. It was a chess game—played in silence and finished with a knife. And me? I was the maid. To him. Couldn’t write that one in a diary if I tried. Never thought I—Diane bloody Brittney—would be brought this low. Bowing to a man. Serving tea. Scrubbing his floors. But honestly, this was still better than what my uncle and his cow of a wife did to me. “Diane!” Elizabeth’s shrill voice cut through my thoughts like a slap. “The Alpha summons thee.” I muttered, “Lovely,” under my breath, then said aloud, “Won’t be long.” My footsteps echoed down the marble corridor, soft-soled shoes slapping the floor like an apology. As I neared his chambers, the air thickened—sandalwood and iron clinging to my nose. I knocked, light and polite. Before I could lower my hand, the door groaned open. “You feel like a queen, don’t you?” His voice was low—cool, arrogant, and so bloody full of himself it made my teeth itch. I dropped my gaze instantly. “Beg pardon, my lord.” “Spare the apologies. They do nothing for me.” He turned slightly. “Care to explain,” his voice tightening, “why my room looks like a tornado’s been through it?” My brow twitched. What? “My lord,” I said carefully, “I cleaned the room thoroughly just two hours ago. Might I ask what’s... out of place?” He folded his arms across that broad chest like he was trying to crush the air around him. “Everything,” he said. “The books are misaligned. The drapes hang uneven. And someone had the audacity to move my mother’s portrait two inches to the left.” I stared. Surely, he was joking. He wasn’t. Did he really throw a tantrum over this? Or was it just for show—to remind me I was beneath him? I bit back the urge to roll my eyes and said tightly, “I shall correct it at once, my lord.” “Of course, you will,” he sneered. “It’s not like you’ve got much choice, is it?” He waved me off like a bothersome insect. “Fix it before I’m tempted to get someone who knows the bloody difference between ‘center' and ‘off center'” I turned to obey, fists clenched so tightly my nails dug crescents into my palms. Diane Brittney. Daughter of luxury. Now fluffing pillows and aligning books for a man who probably drank blood for breakfast. I made the adjustments in silence. It wasn’t about the drapes or books—he was testing me. Or bored. Or cruel. Maybe all three. As I smoothed the final wrinkle from the bedspread, I let my mind drift. My 22nd birthday was days away. No party. No cake. Just more floors to scrub. Funny how not much had changed. I scrubbed floors at my house too—except there, they made sure I knew I was unwanted. If only my parents hadn’t taken that cursed trip all those years ago. If only the solicitor hadn’t vanished like mist right after their deaths. Everything stolen. Every last bit of my name, my future. But I swore to myself, one day—one day—I’d take back what was mine. And the people who thought I’d stay bowed forever? They’d kneel for me. I turned, casting a glance back at the Alpha’s broad silhouette against the window. That was the day I made my resolve. But just as I was stepping out, I heard him say something—so quiet I almost missed it. “…The room isn’t untidy. Just… lonely.” I froze. Did I hear that right? I looked back. He hadn’t moved. Didn’t look at me. For a moment, I didn’t know what to feel. Pity? Curiosity? No. I shut it down. I turned again, silent. But the words stuck with me, even as the door clicked shut behind me.