Once The Alpha Broke Me, I Became His Curse

Daisy and Dasha’s mother also passed away when they were just born. Their father was a drunk who could not even remember their birthdays.

Daisy had always been the clever one. The Alpha family noticed her and raised her like a daughter.

That was how we met, always competing for the Alpha’s praise, always pushing each other forward.

While for Dasha, she never had that light. She ran away at ten, dreaming of escape.

But freedom had a cruel face. She married a human man who beat her, broke her spirit, and left her with nothing.

And after all that, she came crawling back.

When I went down again, the sound of laughter met me before I even reached the last step.

There, in the living room, sat four people who looked every bit like a happy family.

Elstan sat in the middle of the couch, broad shoulders relaxed, his hand tenderly entwined with Dasha’s on his left.

Dasha leaned against him like she belonged there, her face glowing with the confidence of someone who knew she was wanted.

The twins sat on Elstan’s right, giggling, showering Dasha with compliments that pierced deeper than any sharp word they had thrown at me.

“Dasha, you look so beautiful today!” Charlet grinned.

“Yeah, you look like a fairy!” Charlie added, practically clapping his hand in excitement.

I stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs.

“Look, Daisy,” I muttered under my breath, “they already have a new mother figure. So, I’m not needed here anymore, right?”

Dasha was the first to notice me.

“Oh, Jennete, are you done getting ready?” she said, walking toward me. “I heard from the servant that the kids were being naughty to you again. Forgive them, they’re just kids.”

She turned back to the twins and knelt slightly, her tone gentle yet commanding, “Come on, kids. Apologize to Jennete.”

Both of them instantly frowned. “No!” they said in unison, folding their arms.

Dasha looked at them again, still smiling. “Please, at least for my behalf.”

Charlie huffed, “Ugh, fine.” But he never looked at me. Neither did Charlet.

Elstan, who sat silently, watching the scene with a smile.

He was genuinely happy for the first time since Daisy died. And I was not the reason. I never was.

Five years ago, when Daisy passed, Elstan could not bear her absence. I stayed, thinking maybe time would soften him. I cooked, cleaned, and held the babies when they cried.

But he never married me. Never once introduced me to the pack as anything more than the Luna-in-duty.

I was just… there.

Another nanny to the twins.

Another woman to warm his bed during his heat phases — quick, quiet, never spoken of again.

And then, that role had shifted seamlessly to Dasha.

She had Daisy’s face. Fuller, yes — her pear-shaped body curved in places Daisy never had. But it did not matter.

She wore that face. She wore that voice.

And that time, she wore her affection.

“Sorry,” the twins said in unison, their tone flat and forced, snapping me out of the fog of my thoughts.

I smiled slightly and wanted to answer. But before I could open my mouth, Charlie cut off, “But don’t ever think you can replace our mom. Only Dasha can.”

Charlet, clinging to Dasha’s arm, added with venom, “Right! I love Dasha, and I hate you, wicked witch.”

I stood there, a silent statue. It turned out five years of raising them with all my heart and soul could only be replaced by someone who just came a month ago.

Dasha pulled them into a warm hug, her eyes glancing at me briefly over their shoulders. “Oh, kids. I love you too. But please be kind to Jennete too, okay?”

The twin just pouted but still received Dasha’s hug voluntarily.

Elstan, as if sensing an awkward silence, clapped his hands lightly and said, “Okay, kids. Let’s start the event before it gets too late.”

“Oh, right! I’ll get the soup I’ve prepared then,” Dasha chirped, and turned to me with a serene smile, “Jennete, come help me, okay?”

“Sure.”

We walked to the kitchen, a soft hum of birthday chatter echoing behind us. But the moment the door swung shut behind us, the air changed.

Suddenly, Dasha shrieked, and the pot she was holding tipped. Boiling soup spilled, splashing on both of our hands.

“Ahhh!”

I cried out, jerking back in pain, but she fell to the floor with practiced drama, holding her hand and sobbing uncontrollably.

The kitchen door slammed open.

“Elstan, help me!” Dasha cried, looking up just as he and the twins rushed in. “Jennete tried to harm me!

“She said Charlie and Charlet are her children. She couldn’t accept that they love me more than her!”

Without waiting, the twins ran toward me, their tiny fists pounding against my side.

“You wicked woman! You hurt our mom!” Charlie shouted, voice shaking.

“I hate you! You’re jealous and evil!” Charlet sobbed, striking harder.

I stood frozen, cradling my burned hand, too stunned to speak.

Elstan bent down, scooping Dasha into his arms like a wounded queen. He did not even look at me as he growled, “I never thought you were so cunning like this. Just because you hate her, doesn’t mean you can hurt her.”

With that, he turned and carried her away, the twins trailing behind him like loyal shadows.

The celebration was over. No cake. No laughter. Only the sound of footsteps walking away from me.

I made my way upstairs with what dignity I had left. I wrapped the wound myself, tears blurring my vision, each stinging drop matching the burn on my hand.

But when the sun had just dipped beneath the horizon, Dasha came to my room without permission. She let herself in without being invited.

“Why are you here?” I asked, “Where are Elstan and the kids?”

“Because of your little drama earlier,” she said, admiring the bandage on her finger—neatly wrapped, with a small heart drawn on it in purple marker, no doubt by Charlet or Charlie, “Elstan took the kids out to buy more birthday gifts, just to cheer them up.”

She looked at me then, her tone dripping honeyed poison. “But since I’m ‘injured,’ I stayed. Poor me.”

I stood my ground, gripping the edge of my table so tightly my knuckles turned white. “Then you better rest peacefully in your room, instead of coming into mine.”

She chuckled. A low, slow, mocking sound. “Oh, Jennete,” she cooed, “I could never rest peacefully as long as you’re still in this house.”

“So, you should’ve been more sensitive and left!” She stepped closer. I could smell the faint traces of Elstan’s cologne on her.

She wants me to leave here.

I would fulfill her wish, and I would leave this place forever and never look back.