I woke up as my alpha bully's girlfriend

CHAPTER 8

Emily

The sting on my cheek didn’t hurt as much as the realization that the woman standing in front of me had figured it out.

Or at least, that was what I thought.

Her nostrils flared, eyes glared, sharp enough to cut through me, and for one terrifying second, I prepared myself to explain everything. How this wasn’t my fault. How I wanted my body back just as badly as Mary did. And how the moon goddess had a hand in this.

Then she spoke.

“You are nothing without the Saint Laurent name, Mary. Absolutely nothing.”

I blinked.

Wait, what?

“I asked the moon goddess for a strong Alpha son,” Vivienne continued bitterly, “and instead I got a weak girl. Weak.”

Okay.

So she still thought I was Mary.

And that somehow made this worse because I was just realizing that Mary wasn't loved at home.

“Ethan Sparrow is doing this family a favor by staying with you,” she snapped. “He’s an Alpha wolf. And you? Your wolf hasn’t even awakened yet. Sometimes I wonder if you’re wolfless.”

I stared at her, hand still pressed against my cheek.

This woman was insane.

No—worse.

She was Mary’s mother. And suddenly, a lot of things started making sense. Mary was a freaking reflection of her mother.

And hadn’t she claimed last year that her wolf had already awakened?

So that was a lie too.

Vivienne kept going like she had years of insults saved up and was finally getting the chance to use them.

“You will call the Sparrows and apologize for the embarrassment you caused today. Do you understand me?”

My mouth moved before my brain could process what she said. Call it fear of a second slap.

“Yes.”

She glared at me one final time, like she could burn obedience into my soul through eye contact alone, then turned and walked away.

I stayed frozen until I heard the front door slam shut.

What the hell was that?

That wasn’t the woman who smiled at me this morning. And she definitely wasn’t anything like my mother.

My mother yelled sometimes, yes. Especially when bills were late and life was terrible…and the people at the hospital got on her nerves. But she had never looked at me like I was a disappointment she regretted creating.

I went upstairs immediately. Because there was one thing I absolutely was not doing.

Calling Ethan Sparrow.

That was Mary’s problem.

Right now, I needed my body back before this rich family destroyed me. Even the room didn’t feel magical anymore.

I collapsed onto the bed, too exhausted to change out of the uniform, and grabbed Mary’s phone. I searched everything I could think of.

Body swap reversal.

Moon goddess soul exchange.

How to stop supernatural body swap disasters before they ruin your life.

Nothing useful came up.

Then a message notification appeared from Ethan.

HI, BABE. YOU HOME? I ORDERED A PIMPLE CLEANER FOR YOU. ARRIVING SOON.

I stared at the text longer than I should have. I really did not need to start analyzing Ethan Sparrow’s personality like he mattered to me. But the contrast was alarming enough to bother me.

At school, Ethan was terrifying.

Cold.

Cruel.

And untouchable.

The exact kind of personality Alpha male wolves carried, especially a Sparrow wolf.

And especially toward people like me—scholarship students. The ones who didn’t fully belong at Werewolf Academy unless we had powerful wolves waiting to awaken.

I was almost certain I’d end up an Omega. Which was why I had a backup plan.

Brains.

If my wolf couldn’t open doors for me, then my grades would. I was going to earn my way into higher college whether the Alpha King liked it or not.

And Ethan?

He made it painfully clear that people like us were tolerated, not welcomed. But apparently, that version of him didn’t exist around Mary Saint Laurent.

Lucky her.

I dropped the phone onto the bed beside me. My head hurt and my cheek still stung.

And somehow, somewhere between thinking about Ethan and missing home, I drifted off to sleep.

***

I heard Mary’s name being called, but for one blissful second, I forgot I was Mary Saint Laurent now. Honestly, it had barely been twenty-four hours and I already wanted a refund on this life.

Because who wakes someone up by throwing water on them?

I shot up from the bed with a scream, soaked, confused, and completely disoriented. For a second, I didn’t recognize the room.

Then I saw her.

Vivienne Saint Laurent.

And just like that, reality slapped me awake before she physically could.

“Are you trying to test my patience?”

Oh, great. What had I done this time?

Her eyes swept over me slowly, disapproval written all over her face.

“You have classes to attend, a call to make to the Sparrows, and you’re still lying here like this?”

No.

Absolutely not. Not again!

Then her eyes narrowed further. “And why are you still in your uniform?”

Vivienne Saint Laurent was officially my enemy.

I pressed my lips together. “I have a headache.”

Normally, that worked.

Back home, one headache was enough for my mother to start acting like I was on the verge of death. She’d hand me food, medication, and enough concern to suffocate me lovingly.

Vivienne looked at me like my headaches were a personal inconvenience to her, not me. She walked toward the bed and grabbed the phone beside me. Her expression changed immediately when she saw the screen.

I figured she must have seen Ethan’s text.

She practically shoved the phone back into my hands. “Why haven’t you replied?”

“I was as—”

The slap came so fast my head snapped sideways.

I froze.

“You are forgetting your place, Mary,” she said coldly. “You do not negotiate where Ethan Sparrow is concerned. I instruct. You obey. Understood?”

I nodded slowly, mostly because my cheek was throbbing too hard for rebellion. But my annoyance traveled straight into the text box.

I DON’T NEED A PIMPLE CLEANER!!!

I sent it quickly, hiding the phone behind my back before she could see.

Then I smiled stiffly. “I thanked him.”

Her expression softened instantly. That was the scary part.

The switch.

One second she looked ready to bury me alive, the next she looked almost gentle.

“Good,” she said, her tone dropping to a motherly level. “Now call the Sparrows.”

I had learned very quickly that questioning Vivienne Saint Laurent was bad for facial health, so I unlocked the phone immediately.

Then panic hit me.

There was no “Sparrow” saved anywhere. Of course Mary would save contacts in some weird rich-people code language. And for the life of me, I couldn't imagine how Mary's thought process worked.

“I… can’t find it.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes. I instinctively took two steps back. Two slaps in less than a day had taught me the importance of maintaining social distance.

“I can’t remember what I saved it as,” I added quickly.

Her expression shifted again. “It must be because of the fall,” she muttered. “That’s why you’ve been acting so difficult.”

Difficult?

I had been assaulted twice before dinner and my face feels like the nerves are no longer functioning.

She reached into her Birkin bag, pulled out her phone, and dialed a number. After a few seconds, she shoved the phone into my hand.

“It’s Helena Sparrow,” she said sharply. “Apologize.”

I slowly raised the phone to my ear, holding my breath.

After meeting Vivienne Saint Laurent, I genuinely didn’t know what to expect from another rich, high-class woman.

Someone equally terrifying?

Or worse?

Because…

She was Ethan Sparrow’s mother.

And science had already proven that apples didn’t fall far from trees. And unfortunately for me, this particular apple was a bully. What would the tree be?