The forgotten daughter

Rachel’s POV

I stared at the lifeless body of Fei Fei, my only companion in this house. In the same way I had taken care of Ivan, I had cherished my pet. And now, he was gone. Killed by the very boy I had protected for eight years.

“Don’t mess with me, and don’t get my father upset with me!” Ivan spat before stomping off, his golden eyes gleaming with triumph.

A bitter laugh escaped me. Fate was cruel. I was the one who had taught Ivan how to wield a bow, and now he had used it against me. My hands trembled as I cradled the box, staring at Fei Fei’s still form. A single tear slipped down my cheek.

“Why are you out in the cold, Rachel? You’ll get sick.”

Michael’s voice reached me before he stepped closer, draping his jacket over my shoulders. I shrugged it off immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, then his eyes landed on the box. His face twisted in slight disgust.

“Your son came to apologize,” I said flatly.

Michael’s frown deepened. “He’s your son, too.”

I scoffed. “He hates me, Michael. He killed my cat.”

Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It was probably just a prank. He’s a child, Rachel.”

“A child who knows exactly how to hurt me.”

I turned away from him, the snow crunching beneath my boots as I walked toward the edge of the garden. The moon cast long shadows across the trees, and for a moment, I imagined Fei Fei darting through the underbrush, chasing moonbeams like he used to when he was alive.

Michael didn’t argue. Instead, he tried to lead me inside. “Come. You can bury it tomorrow.

I pulled away, carrying the box toward the garden. “I won’t leave him outside for some animal to feast on.”

Michael followed, grumbling about how stubborn I was. Still, he stayed while I buried Fei Fei beneath the full moon’s glow. The cold wind howled through the night, whispering secrets only wolves could understand.

I knelt in the dirt, hands shaking as I covered the small grave. I remembered the day I found him—just a kitten, soaking wet and barely breathing by the riverbank. I had nursed him back to health, hidden him in my room despite the strict house rules. He had grown alongside Ivan, curling up in my lap during the cold winters, purring when my tears fell silently in the dark.

The final handful of soil felt heavier than all the rest.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You didn’t deserve this.”

When we returned inside, the party had long ended. The house was eerily silent. I sneezed just as Michael caught my wrist, pulling me toward him.

He sat down, settling me onto his lap. I cringed inwardly.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

Michael sighed. “I’ll get you a new cat.”

“I don’t want a new cat. I want to leave. Tomorrow.”

Michael tensed. “Ivan is a child. I don’t trust anyone else to take care of him. Besides, where would you even go? You have no one.”

I shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. I have no place here. You’ve refused to make me your Luna after eight years.”

He exhaled sharply. “Rachel, I told you, I can’t take another mate right now.”

“I’m not asking you to. I don’t want to be your mate anymore. I just want to leave.”

Michael remained silent for a long moment, then spoke carefully. “Then stay as the mother of my child. Have a pup with me. If you bear my heir, no one will dare question your place in this pack.”

A sad smile crossed my lips. Eight years. I had given him everything, stripped myself of dignity, and still, this was all I amounted to—someone to birth his child and raise his firstborn.

I stood, shaking my head. “I’ve already instructed the maids on how to care for Ivan. He doesn’t need me anymore.”

Michael caught my wrist again, pressing a lingering kiss to my palm. “Sleep on it.”

That night, I didn’t sleep at all. Instead, I packed my things. But even as I folded my clothes, my mind replayed the image of Fei Fei.

I paused beside my dresser, opening the drawer where I had hidden a crumpled photo. It was the only one I had left—of me and my parents, taken before the war tore through the Royal Pack. My mother’s eyes looked back at me, proud and strong. I folded the picture and tucked it into my coat.

I glanced around the room, once a place of confinement and sorrow, now stripped of sentiment. I closed the suitcase and stared at the door.

By dawn, I was ready.

Dragging my suitcase toward the gate, I exhaled, feeling lighter than I had in years. Finally, I was leaving.

But of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

A slow clap echoed through the courtyard, followed by a sickly sweet voice.

“Well, well, well.”

Susan leaned against the pillar, smirking. Her red-painted lips curled in satisfaction. “Leaving, are we?”

I sighed. Of course, she would be here to witness my departure. Michael’s mistress. Ivan’s favorite.

I ignored her and continued walking, but she stepped into my path.

“Eight years, Rachel.” She tilted her head. “Eight years of playing house, waiting for a man who never wanted you. And now you’re finally leaving? Took you long enough.”

I met her gaze. “Enjoy it, then. None of this concerns me anymore.”

Susan’s smirk widened. “Oh, I will. Don’t worry. Soon, I’ll be the Luna.”

Before I could respond, the front doors burst open.

Michael stepped out, followed closely by Ivan.

And just like that, Susan changed.

She gasped dramatically and dropped to her knees, clutching my dress. “Rachel, please!” she sobbed, her voice dripping with false desperation. “Please don’t go! Ivan needs you!”

I stared down at her blankly.

“He loves you, he does! He’s just a child. Please don’t abandon him.”

Michael sighed, clearly annoyed. “Enough, Susan. Stop making a scene. I’ll get Rachel another cat.”

I clenched my fists, but before I could speak, Ivan ran to Susan, wrapping his arms around her.

“Stand up, Susan,” he said softly, his tiny hands wiping away her fake tears. Then, he turned to me, his golden eyes filled with hatred. “You killed my mother,” he spat, his voice trembling with rage. “And now you’re trying to hurt Susan too!”

He turned back to Susan, his gaze softening. “Don’t worry. Let Rachel go. I don’t need her.” His lips curled into a cruel smile. “I want you to stay. You should be my mother. You should marry my father.”

His words struck harder than any wound.

After eight years, if this was how he truly felt… There was no point in staying.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and took one last look at the boy I had raised, the man I had once loved.

Without another word, I turned and walked away.

But just as I reached the gate, a sharp whistle split the air.

And then I felt pain, blinding, searing pain.