Chapter 4

A New Life, New Pain

~Eleanor Pov~

Weeks had passed since then.

Since the day when my mate Hadin rejected me and then left me in pieces on the forest floor.

And since that day, I hadn't seen him, no-no, not once, nothing, as if he had vanished into thin air from my world and gone ahead to leave a part inside me, a spot that I just didn't know how to fill.

During the early days, I used to tell myself that he was just lacking time, which he knew he had lost and on his knees had come for having made this mistake against me. Therefore, the only lifeline was held onto and repeatedly replaying moments in the head that we shared.

And, well, as days went to weeks, that spark of hope dwindled so gradually. No day did he come. None.

Yet, still, I waited.

That hope, it was stupid, wasn't it? But it was all I had left.

I've been feeling weird these days, gray as the sky above, my mood almost non-existent, along with my appetite. And then again, I never really had much to eat at my Stepmother.

I was used to meager rations of meals, and plates of sad leftovers while others had full juicy meals. But with a mountain of dishes wasting in the kitchen and growls of protest from my stomach, I just couldn't find the energy to care about that now.

The sink was full again.

I looked down at the greasy plates, bowls, and cutlery that seemed to multiply no matter how many I washed. My hands were raw and red, and the water was icy, biting against my skin. My arms ached from scrubbing for what must have been three hours now.

I tried not to think about it.

If you don't wash all of it, you don't get to eat," one of the maids had said in that jeering, sugary tone reeking with so much false pity.

I hadn't eaten a thing that day, nothing and not even water had passed my lips.

I gritted my teeth and scrubbed harder, soapy water splashing into my dress. It clung to my body, wet and uncomfortable, but I didn't care. I couldn't afford to care.

Plates clattered onto the counter beside me and I glanced up to find another maid adding to the pile.

"There's more in the dining hall," she said, smirking. "Better hurry, Omega. You wouldn't want to upset the Alpha's wife."

My stepmother.

I clamped my teeth and turned back to the plates, firmly intent that no more of this woman's words were to cow me. Yet all of this weighed upon me: endless labor, growling hunger within, and pain in my heart that would not cease.

The world blurred before my eyes as, finally, fatigue invaded with its heavy, insistent weight. My vision swam, the room seeming to slant perilously.

No, not now. I couldn't afford to be weak now.

I clutched the edge of the sink, steadying myself while I took deep breaths. But it wasn't enough. My legs buckled beneath me, and darkness crowded in at the edges of my vision.

And then, everything went black.

I finally opened my eyes. I lay on a bed, the softness below felt unfamiliar, and in a second, I forgot where I was.

It was dark in the room, filled with a heavy scent of various herbs and potions in it. My head pounded a great deal, while my limbs felt real heavy, but at least now the vertigo was gone.

"You're awake."

The voice came across the room, and my head turned to where I saw the healer, having on her face the light of sympathy, yet wearied.

"You fainted," she said, drawing closer. "I have been telling your father and stepmother for years you need better care, but they would not listen."

It was more painful than it should have been. Of course, they wouldn't listen. Why would they? I was nothing to them, after all-just a burden they barely tolerated.

"You must rest," the healer went on, this time softer. "Your body is undernourished and overworked. But there's something else we have to talk about.

Slowly I sat up, frowning. The room spun a bit, but I managed to steady myself. "What do you mean?"

She was hesitant; her hands were wrung together. "When I examined you, well, Eleanor, you are, pregnant."

Like a thunderstorm, her words came upon me.

Pregnant.

The room shrunk in on the reality of what was just thrown at me in that instant.

"I. I am what?" I whispered, shaking.

"You're pregnant," she repeated softly.

I stared into her eyes, my head racing. Pregnant. With Hadin's child. My mate's child.

A storm of emotions surged in my chest, shock, confusion, fear. Yet beneath it all, something else lay in wait.

I laid a hand on my stomach, the smallest spark of warmth blooming there. A child. My child. His child.

The spark of joy flared for the first time in weeks. It was part of him, a part of us. Whatever the world had done to me, this child would be mine.

But such happiness was never to live long.

What was I to do now? Hadin didn't want me. That much he'd made clear. Now, here I was, carrying his child bloodline, his heir.

He had left me behind, abandoned me. And now I had within the palm of my hand this fragile part of him, this minute particle of a life that was to change it all.

I swallowed hard as my hand lay on my stomach still. "Does anybody else know?" I whispered.

The healer shook her head. "No. I thought it was right to tell you first.

“Please,” I said, the word tumbling out in haste, desperation rising to seep into my voice. “Not my father, nor my stepmother. No one.”

The healer hesitated and then nodded. “As you wish.”

Relief washed over me, short-lived.

The door slammed open, and my heart leaped to my throat.

My father stood framed in the doorway, his figure bathed by the harsh light coming from the hall, his face contorted in that mask of rage so well known to me. The blue of his eyes was afire with his anger.

Behind him, my stepmother stood with her arms folded across her chest and a smug smile dancing on her lips.

"I had always known you were a useless daughter," my father spat, venom dripping from each word. "But I never thought you'd stoop this low."

My blood ran cold.

"You're nothing but a slut!" he roared and entered the room. "Who owns the pregnancy?"

My mouth opened, but no word dropped from it. My mind just went blank as fear and shock overwhelmed me.

Everything sounded against my ears; every one of my father's words sounded like a dagger deep in my chest.

Slut.

Pregnant.

Who owns the pregnancy?

Tears welled up, but not another word would come forth. Not here, not now.

But in my furious father's eyes, in my smirking stepmother's eyes, it weighed.

What to say? What to do?

It was out, and I couldn't turn back anymore.