001: Don’t Trust Your Bitchy Aunt

Don’t Trust Your Bitchy Aunt.”

DALA

“Hey, you!" I flinched at the loud thud of the door that followed. “Lunch is served, and my Mom wants you downstairs,” Isabella announced, leaning against the doorframe like she owned the place.

Her phone was pressed to her ear, and her voice carried that lazy arrogance I’d come to always expect from her.

I frowned, putting away the notepad balanced on my knees. “Lunch is served or I’m supposed to serve lunch?”

Isabella just gave me a look— half disgust, half annoyance— before rolling her eyes. “It’s already on the table, dummy!”

She turned on her heel, still chatting into the phone as she headed down the hallway. “Have you heard? The Erymor triplets are back from their tour. They’re even hotter now— yes, hotter! Like, how is that possible?”

I stood, more confused than ever.

Lunch was never “served” in this house by anyone except me. I was the one who cooked, plated, and cleaned up afterward.

The idea that someone else had somehow prepared and served meals in this house made my skin crawl.

That can't be the case, right?

Suspicion crept into my bones, and I grabbed my cardigan from the chair, running after Isabella, who was already descending the stairs. “A-are you saying Aunt Claudette asked me to eat lunch at the table?” I arched my brow. "The same table as you?"

Isabella didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she rolled her eyes again and continued her conversation, her voice dripping with enthusiasm as she gushed to whoever was on the other end of the call.

“Ugh, I know! They’re like gods. I mean, if I could just meet them— just once, I swear I’d die happy…”

I scowled behind her, imitating her eye roll so hard it stung.

Not the triplets again.

Isabella and her obsession with those Alpha celebrities was unbearable. It was all she and her friends ever talked about.

Never anything about schoolwork.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, a sweet aroma hit me first— rich, savory, and utterly unfamiliar.

I froze in the doorway of the dining room, my eyes widening as I took in the sight before me.

The table was set like we were hosting royalty. Fine china, polished silverware, and dishes so neatly plated that I could only liken them to the ones shown on TV or in magazines.

What the hell was happening?!

At the head of the table sat Aunt Claudette, her lips curved into a sweet, unnatural smile.

“A-are we hosting a visitor?" I managed to ask, half expecting her to snap and demand if it was my business, but she shook her head, still smiling.

A lump formed in my throat. Aunt Claudette wasn't the type to smile at me!

“Come, Dala,” she said, gesturing to an empty seat. “You don't want the meal to get cold.”

“Me? Sh-shouldn’t I be eating whatever is left in the pot?" I asked in astonishment, looking around if there was someone she was rather referring to. “Aunt? It's me, Dala.”

“Of course, it's you, sweetheart. Come on," She stood from her seat, pulling out a chair beside her. “Hurry up and have your seat. I worked so hard to prepare this meal just for you. Trust me, the taste is perfect.”

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to run. Aunt Claudette was never kind– at least not to me.

She wasn't even neutral.

This was the same woman who had slammed my hand in a door just yesterday because— maybe it'd help me fold the laundry faster.

Isabella plopped into her seat like this was a normal thing happening in this house, completely unfazed.

Aunt Claudette sighed, annoyance seeping into her voice. “Don't you trust me?"

“I– I do."

I swallowed my nerves and instead of the seat Aunt Claudette pulled out for me, I took the seat furthest from her, keeping my movements slow and deliberate.

“Is that where you want to sit?”

My chest raised as I watched her expression, expecting the worst. “I j-just thought it'd be—"

“It's okay." She smiled and settled back in her seat.

The food smelled amazing, but my appetite was nowhere to be found.

I picked up my fork and poked at the food. Was this some kind of setup? Why was everyone so calm?

Maybe the food was going to explode in my mouth, and then Isabella and her mom would laugh scornfully at me like they always do.

“Eat, sweetheart,” My Aunt urged, her voice dripping with sweetness. “You’re so thin because you refuse to eat.”

I forced a smile and took a bite, the flavors melting on my tongue. It was delicious, but my throat twisted with unease, refusing to accept the munch.

Aunt Claudette, who was watching me, poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to Isabella. “Pass it to my sweet Dala. It's a new product I got from the store earlier."

I immediately grabbed the drink from Isabella and gulped it down.

Halfway through the meal, Aunt Claudette dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and cleared her throat. “Dala, there’s something important I have to say.”

I froze.

This was going to be the bomb of the meal, I thought.

“My dear childhood friend, the one who became the youngest bride of the Alpha of the FirstBite Clan a few months ago. You remember her, don’t you?”

I nodded mutely, not sure how it had anything to do with me.

“She’s expecting her first child!” Aunt Claudette announced with enthusiasm. “Isn't it such a wonderful blessing?”

My lips curled forcefully. “Yes, it is."

“Well," Claudette paused, her smile growing sharper. “She’s requested a maid. Someone trustworthy, someone... obedient. Since she's carrying the Alpha child, she doesn’t trust anyone from her pack.”

My fork clattered against my plate. I stared at her, trying to process what she was saying. “That's a good precaution but… why are you telling me about it?”

“You’ll be moving there,” she said as if it were the most natural thing in the world or a daily routine that's expected of me.

“Why would I do that?” I asked immediately, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Isabella slammed her phone onto the table, her face twisted with indignation. “That’s my point! Why does she get to go? I told you Mom, I should be the one going!” She whined

Aunt Claudette glared at her daughter. “I told you we were done with that conversation. You go nowhere.”

“But that’s the Alpha triplets’ home, Mom!” Isabella’s voice rose with every word. “Do you know what an opportunity that is?”

“Enough, Isa!"

"Mom!” She insisted "I bet the triplets would like me better than that foolish masked streamer they're obsessed with. Ain't I more sexy than Luna Lust?”

My heart stuttered.

That was me– The masked streamer.

My secret identity that I’d always strived to keep— the reason I stayed up late at night, streaming behind locked doors.

Luna Lust– An icon with thousands of fans all over the virtual world, drooling and doing nasty things just by watching my videos.

Even those who hated me loved Luna Lust, of course, except the jealous ones.

“Please let Isabella go since she wants to be there anyway?” I said.

"Exactly, mom!” Isabella agreed snappily.

Aunt Claudette rose to her feet and made her way to my side. "What were you saying again?”

"I was saying Isabella should go instead since–”

The slap came before I could brace myself for it.

Aunt Claudette's sugary smile had vanished as she spoke. “And why should my daughter be the dirty maid?” she asked, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr.

My cheek stung so badly, and my vision blurred, but I refused to cry.

I’d had worse from her.

“I don't want to go,” I said, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “You can't keep tossing around how you please."

To my surprise, Aunt Claudette didn’t pull my hair or land me another slap. She merely smiled. “The driver is waiting, Dala. You’ll be in Lochavia by nightfall.”

My blood ran cold.

“No!” I shot up to my feet, shoving my chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. “You can’t make me go!”

Aunt Claudette sighed and stroked my hair. Her calmness was more terrifying than any slap. “Why don't you drink more of your juice, dear? It’ll help settle your nerves.”

“What's that supposed to do with–"

The room swayed before I could finish my words, my limbs growing heavy as the edges of my vision darkened.

And then it hit me.

I glanced at the glass, suspicion prickling my skin.

“Wh— what did you do?” I whispered, clutching the table for support.

“What do you think I did?" She asked, her voice coated with faux concern.

I groaned weakly as my leg gave up on me, throwing my weight to the floor.

Aunt Claudette's cold and eerie smile of triumph was the last thing I saw before the world went black.