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Chapter 168
Elara’s POV
I don’t remember the last time I felt this kind of exhaustion.
The head maid had gone and gotten herself so drunk she passed out on the lounge, leaving us all to scramble for the wedding prep. When she finally staggered to consciousness, it was already 6 a.m.
“Jesus Christ!” she shouted, her voice shrill as she jumped up and sprinted into the kitchen. “We don’t have much time left! How’s the cake coming along?”
It wasn’t just coming along. It was done.
When she barreled into the kitchen, I was adding the final touch–placing the bride and groom figurine atop the ten–tier masterpiece. Buttercream pink frosting, ribbons, red roses, and white lilies. Perfect.
I stepped back, admiring it for a moment before I could even respond.
“You did this all by yourself?” The head maid’s voice was filled with awe, but there was something else there–disbelief, maybe?
I nodded, brushing flour off my apron. “Yeah. What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” she gasped, walking around the cake as if she were circling a prized work of art.
She didn’t find a single flaw. “Great work, Elara. Really, fabulous. I’ll be sure to mention your name to the masters when they ask about this.”
Iwaved it off. “No, no. Please don’t. This is all you. I just helped a little.”
She smiled at me, her gratitude in her eyes. She thought I was trying not to steal her thunder. What she didn’t know, though, was that there was a little surprise hidden within that cake–photos, lots of them, tucked inside its hollow core. A ticking time bomb.
The wedding day dawned, and the head maid had us all up before the sun. The kitchen was hotter than hell from the stove, and we worked in
a frantic blur.
No time for breaks. We had to keep moving or the dinner party wouldn’t be ready on time.
I overheard a couple of maids gossiping white chopping vegetables.
“I’m done with this job!” one of them muttered, voice dripping with frustration.
The other snorted in agreement. “Yeah. Us kitchen maids are stuck here, sweating our asses off, while those sluts upstairs get to mingle with the masters. They get to go to the ceremony, attend the parties. It’s not fair.”
“Tell me about it,” the second one sighed. “I’m getting texts from Gill, full of photos from the reception. All those gorgeous male guests. Did you see the queen’s gown?”
I couldn’t help it. I smiled, but it was icy.
This was Miela’s dream come true–her fairy tale wedding. She’d wanted this since she was a little girl. A powerful mate, an expensive wedding gown, and all the attention on her.
Too bad it would all come crashing down the second she cut that cake.
The ceremony took place at the church, and after the vows were exchanged, the King, Queen, and their guests made their way back to the
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palace for the dinner party.
By 6 p.m., one of the servants came into the kitchen, looking for a few more maids to help with the dinner.
This was it. My chance
Almost all the other maids had their hands raised, eager for a taste of the high life.
But the head maid pointed right at me. “Elara, you go.”
A few others muttered under their breath.
“Why does she get to go? She’s new!” one of them complained.
“Because she works hard and gets everything done!” the head maid snapped, her voice sharp. “Anyone who has a problem with that can
scrub toilets tomorrow.”
I grabbed my apron and followed the servant, heading toward the Grand Ballroom where the dinner party was being held.
The ballroom was a sight to behold. The high, arched ceiling was covered in ribbons and sparkling chandeliers. The walls, golden and luxurious, held giant windows draped with velvet curtains.
The long tables were set with fine china and crystal glasses, the air filled with the scent of gourmet cuisine.
Most of the guests were already mingling in small groups, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of conversation.
I didn’t recognize anyone in the crowd, no sign of Thorne or any of the others.
Lance and Miela hadn’t arrived either.
I stayed near the bar, helping to serve drinks as instructed.
A haughty voice interrupted my thoughts..
“Two glasses of champagne,” it demanded.
I turned, and my eyes widened in shock.
It was Ruvan. And standing beside him was none other than Corla, Miela’s mother.
So Miela had managed to get them across the border after all. I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or disgusted.
They took one look at me, and their faces lit up with mock surprise.
Ruvan broke into a laugh. “Look at you! A maid now? What happened, Elara? Did your Alpha kick you out of the army and make you find a
real job?”
Corla giggled, her eyes cold as she added, “Last time we saw you, you were all hoity–toity with Alpha Thorne and Alpha Cael. Looks like they’ve lost interest, huh?”
I snorted, biting back the wave of rage rising in my chest. I pretended I hadn’t heard their cruel words and calmly poured their drinks.
“Here you go,” I said, my voice cool and detached.
.Ruvan slammed his hand on the counter. “Watch that attitude! You’re just a maid now. My daughter is the queen, and you’re nobody!”
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Chapter 168
“Your daughter?” I chuckled darkly. “The same daughter you threw under the bus when she was charged with crimes? The one you abandoned when it suited you?”
They were quiet for a moment, but the heat in Coila’s cheeks was enough of a response.
“Miela has forgiven us!” Corla snapped, her voice defensive. “She invited us to her wedding, didn’t she? It’s not like you, You’re just bitter!”
“Bitter?” Heaned closer, my voice low and cutting. “What I am is disgusted by you two. You both threw your daughter aside when it was convenient. And now, you show up pretending to care. Pathetic.”
Ruvan’s face twisted with anger. “You’re just jealous! Miela is married to the world’s most powerful man. What do you have, huh? Nothing!”
I didn’t have time for them.
I rolled my eyes and stepped away, but they weren’t done yet.
“There’s a hair in my champagne!” Ruvan barked, looking down at his glass as if I had done something wrong.
“Where?” I asked flatly.
“Are you blind?” he snapped.
I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to snap.
I emptied the glass and refilled it without a word.
“Now happy?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Corla reached out, feeling the glass. “The wine is warm! What kind of maid are you? I’ll report you!”
That was it. I’d had enough.
I grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the shelf and poured the whole thing onto her precious handbag.
Her screech of outrage rang through the room. “What the hell are you doing?! This is a limited edition! Worth more than you’ll ever see in your life!”
I dragged her toward me, grabbing her collar and yanking her across the counter.
“Fake,” 1 hissed in her ear.
She froze.
“The stitching’s off. The material’s cheap. Even the logo’s wrong.”
I leaned in closer, my voice cold as ice. “I’ve got a closet full of these. Trust me. Yours isn’t real.”
Corla went pale, her breath shallow.
“You want me to scream it out loud?” I whispered. “Let everyone know the queen’s mother is wearing a fake?”
She gulped, eyes wide, but I wasn’t done yet.
I let out a soft laugh. “I think the guests would love to hear that.”
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