3

HILARY

I slowly turned to face Sara, fully aware of the fact that I was in deep trouble.

"Hey, Sara. G- good morning," I stuttered out.

The smile she gave me was one that eerily resembled one of her mother's, and it sent cold shivers down my spine.

"You're up early." She noted.

"Yeah, I… uh… went for a run," I lied, a nervous laughter following my words.

She nodded as her eyes raked over my figure, humming. "You truly did, and shopping too, since you're wearing a Stuart Hughes T-shirt that costs over eighty thousand dollars."

I blinked rapidly as her words settled in my mind.

‘Eighty thousand what!?’

“And I know there's no way you could've afforded that, so you just proved my point of you being nothing but a slut!” She continued as she slowly made her way towards me. “Just how desperate do you have to be to go around spreading your legs for every Tom, Dick and Harry for a little cash.” Her fingers dug into my cheek as she gripped my jaw harshly.

Even though her hold was painful, I still forced out a reply, "Last time I checked, eighty thousand dollars is not a little cash, especially not for you, seeing as neither you nor your little fiance can afford it either.”

My words struck a nerve as I'd expected them to and anger flashed through her eyes as she pushed me to the ground and began to call out loudly, "Mom! Dad! Hilary's back."

I knew I shouldn't have given in to her accusations as it meant I'd proven her point of me spending the night out with a man, but it wasn't the first time of her calling me names even when they weren't true, so what's once going to hurt. Besides, it was well worth it to finally get a word in and see her reaction.

Also, I was sure they wouldn't want to hit me today since it was the day I was going to be sold off. I was going to bring them money one last time and it wouldn't speak well of them if whatever buyer they found had to recieve a bruised and battered item.

I heard their footfalls on the stairs, and soon, my father stood before me, his eyes blazing with anger, followed by Esme and Dawson. They were the least of my concerns as I watched my father's eyes begin to swirl with a mix of yellow, signalling the presence of his wolf. I subconsciously shifted away, curling into myself.

"Miss Two Goody Shoes is finally showing her true colors," Dawson drawled with a sneer on his face as he stalked closer. “You wouldn't allow me touch you even when you claimed to be my mate and now you spend the night outside with some stranger like a cheap whore?"

I opened my mouth to snap back at him, but my father's voice calling my name in a sharp, low growl startled my mouth shut.

"Hilary! ….. Where were you last night?"

My heart pounded violently against my chest as I struggled to find the right words, "I... I... I."

"Oh, so now you can't speak properly?" Esme chimed in, clearly enjoying every second of my misery. "Answer the question!" She yelled when I took too long to answer.

My throat had begun to clog up with the regretful sobs building up in my chest. “It was a mistake!" I cried out, scrambling to my knees.

"I'm sorry, I swear, it was a mistake. I had too many drinks, and…. and I-"

I didn't get to finish my statement when I felt a sharp kick to my stomach, causing me to double over in pain as I wailed painfully. I curled into a fetal position as my father continued to deliver kick after kick to my stomach, growing more and more angry when he met obstruction as my hands flew to go cover my stomach instinctively.

Even though it'd been a fleeting thought just a few hours ago, I couldn't completely brush off the fact that I could be pregnant. I couldn't let them take that away from me too -the one thing that was a result of my own, sole decision.

He totally avoided my face for obvious reasons, and when he was done, I was nothing but a ball of human mass with little life left in me.

Dawson squatted next to me as I remained balled up on the cold ground, my hair shrouding my vision but there was no way I could miss his presence, nor the venom in his tone as he spoke his next words.

"You better not be trying to destroy our plans because you think I would still come back to you. I would've married your sister long ago if it weren't forbidden for her to get married before your sorry self, so you better look for a way to make your buyer believe you're still intact.”

I used all the strength I had left to push myself into a sitting position and spat in his face. "You are pathetic."

He slapped me across the face in retaliation before wordlessly leaving the room with Sara and Esme. I couldn't remember how long I sat there, but my legs felt heavy as bricks when I finally stood up to go to my room. The attic had a single bed with a rapidly deteriorating frame. I wasn't going to miss this place.

I really hoped that wherever I was being sent to wouldn't give me a reason to want to go back to my old life. Whoever he was, I prayed that none of my assumptions would be correct and that he'd just leave me in peace and totally forget about my existence. I collapsed on my bed, my whole body aching with pain. The hours blurred, and I slowly slipped away from reality as I dosed off into a surprisingly peaceful slumber. Or so I thought.

I woke up to the feeling of my body on fire, my throat scratchy with the desperate need for hydration. I was sweating all over too and my head felt as though it was getting struck over and over again with a hammer. I was having a fever. Again.

I couldn't get out of my bed, and minutes blurred into hours which turned into days. My father occasionally came by to be sure I hadn't run away or died, always leaving with a dissatisfied grunt after watching me with a hateful glare from the doorway. I wasn't surprised to see I wasn't getting anything in way of care or medication.

I had to wait for my body to heal on its own. Wolves have incredible healing powers, but I was an omega so it normally took a longer time. As the days went by, I waited with bated breath for the day I was going to be dragged out of bed to be sold to a sex starved old man despite my condition but it never happened. My fever was taking longer than normal to reduce too for some reason.

Soon enough, it started to feel as though my prayers had been answered, and I had even began to block out the idea of an unwanted marriage from my mind. Maybe he'd gotten tired of waiting and cancelled their agreement. I couldn't help but feel relieved. That would explain why I'd been able to put up with Esme and Sara's bitchiness for two weeks too.

My father, of course, never missed a chance to point out the fact, every day, that I was useless to the point where I couldn't even do something selfless for the family. He spoke about it like I had a choice in whatever decision they made. Like this was a family anyone in their right mind would want to make any sacrifices for.

This morning, I had woken up early to prepare breakfast. Sara said Dawson would be coming with some of his friends and I had to make a lot of food. It was a little depressing, right? That I was making food for my cheating ex-mate and his asshole friends. Yeah, I know, but nothing was going to dampen my spirits because today marked two weeks and a day since I was supposed to get married and it never happened. It wouldn't be far-fetched to believe it was no longer happening, right?

I did a silly happy dance in my head as I ran around the kitchen, making breakfast. By the time I was done, the sun was up and bright as my mood. Even Sara had given me a look that convinced me she'd been questioning my sanity but I really couldn't bring myself to care.

As I ate breakfast, the aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. I couldn't help but be proud of my culinary skills. It was a small victory amidst this roaring tornado I called my life.

Just as I finished setting the table, the doorbell rang, shattering the temporary sense of tranquility.

'Ugh' I grumbled with the realization that they were here. A part of me didn't want to bother answering, wanting to leave it to his now mate, but a force of habit had my feet moving forward against my better thinking.

I opened the door to find Dawson standing there, flanked by two of his cronies. His smirk sent a shiver down my spine, but I forced myself to maintain a neutral expression.

"Morning," I muttered, stepping aside to let them in.

Dawson walked in, his eyes lingering on me for a moment too long. "Nice dress you got there," he commented, his tone dripping with condescension.

I ignored the jab and gestured towards the dining table. "Breakfast is ready. Help yourselves."

The men wasted no time digging in, their laughter filling the room as they gobbled down the food. I busied myself with clearing the dishes, trying to block out their crude remarks and leering gazes.

As they finished eating, Dawson rose from his seat, his gaze locking with mine. "Thanks for the meal, Hilary, you're ridiculously good at this domestic stuff.”

I forced a tight smile, the urge to lash out bubbling beneath the surface. But I bit down on my tongue, knowing it would only invite unwanted trouble and attention.

I started up on the dishes, impatiently waiting for Sara to finish up with her extravagant dress up and give them something else to focus on. I'd been lost in thoughts when one of them sauntered into the kitchen, resting his weight on the doorframe.

"Hey, you're Dawson's whore,

right?" he said, his gaze lecherous as it dragged slowly over my body.

"I think you have the wrong person," I replied, quickly trying to leave the kitchen.

"Come on," he drawled, blocking my path with his body. "Let me have a taste of what you have him raving about. I'm his best bud, you know.” He said, now gripping my wrist as I tried to squeeze my way out.

“Let me go!” I yelled when he moved to press his self against my back.

“I'm going to make you feel so good….. better than he ever did.” he whispered into my ear, and my whole body curled with the intensity of my disgust.

It was obvious he had a mission to force himself on me no matter what I said, and knowing my family, no one was going to come to my rescue. I panicked and with a sudden burst of strength, my knee collided with his crotch and as he doubled over in pain, I wrenched myself out of his hold and made a run for it, only to collide with the wall painfully, my nose taking much of the impact.

"Ouch," I groaned, holding unto the throbbing spot.

"Are you okay?" the wall asked in a voice that sounded achingly familiar, warm fingers tilting my face here and there in a quest to access the damage.

I looked up to find the olive eyes that burned with desire the last time we met.

"What….." I trailed off breathlessly.

"You left without saying goodbye, wife."

"W- what are you doing here? How did you find me?" I demanded, my voice low and furious as I pulled away from him. "And don't you dare call me your wife," I hissed, my eyes flashing with anger. "I made a split-second decision whilst drunk, nothing more."

He raised a brow at my words, his tone almost mocking as he asked, "Oh, really?”

So, it wasn't the alcohol that night, his voice really did really carry that deep bass that made it sound so irresistibly sexy.

"Do you know him, Hilary?" A voice asked, snapping me out of my reverie. It was my father, and that was when I realized that everybody was now present in the living room. Sara was looking at this not-so-stranger with a glint in her eyes, and my stepmother sat quietly next to her husband on the sofa.

"What's going on here?" I asked, swallowing down my nerves.

"There is no need for much introductions, Hilary," my father replied offhandedly. "This is Alpha Huntergrove, your husband-to-be."

"Husband.” He corrected with a lopsided grin before raising a brow at me, “Isn't that right, wife?”

There was minute of silence that felt much longer as my brain continuously struggled to process exactly what his words were supposed to mean. And when they finally clicked, all I could get out was the only thought that was making rounds in my head.

"What the actual f....!”