CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

His voice was loud and angry. I hurriedly moved deeper into the room. I didn't want to make him any more angrier.The Alpha spoke again, and his words hurt. "You almost ruined the party with your clumsiness. Why can’t you do just one thing right?"

I couldn't bear to remain silent any longer as the weight of the accusations pressed upon me, like a heavy burden I could no longer carry. They called me clumsy and said I couldn't do my job properly. But I had to defend myself. I had to let them know that it wasn't my fault, that I hadn't intended to spill soup on the guests.

With trembling courage, I finally spoke up, my voice quivering with a mix of anxiety and desperation. "I'm truly sorry, but it wasn't my clumsiness that caused the mishap. Someone deliberately placed their leg in my path, causing me to slip. My intention was never to spill soup on the guests," I explained, my words carrying the weight of truth and innocence.

However, the response I received was far from empathetic. Instead, it was accompanied by a cold, piercing gaze that seemed to see right through me. The words that followed were like a sharp blade cutting through the air, leaving no room for negotiation. "Of course, you will make excuses for your incompetence," the voice declared with a tone that felt as harsh as the accusations themselves.

I felt a heavy sinking sensation in my chest as the unjust judgment continued to bear down on me. It seemed that no matter what I said or how I tried to defend myself, I was trapped in a web of accusations, unable to break free.

The room itself seemed to close in on me, its dimly lit corners now holding shadows of judgment and condemnation. I couldn't meet the Alpha's gaze, for it held a power that seemed to penetrate my very soul.

But deep down, I knew the truth. I had not been clumsy; I had been set up. Someone had intentionally caused me to spill the soup, tarnishing my reputation and making me the scapegoat for their misdeeds. Yet, in this moment, it felt like the truth would remain hidden, buried beneath layers of prejudice and distrust.

I wanted to scream, to plead for someone to believe me, but fear held my voice captive. The room was suffocating, and I felt like a trapped animal, cornered by accusations I couldn't escape.

My heart sank further as I realized that this confrontation was not a battle of words. It was a prelude to the consequences I would face for my actions. The words that followed left no room for doubt or escape.

"I didn't call you here to battle words with you. Just know that there are consequences for your actions. That's why you are here. So, pull your clothes and bend over," the voice commanded with a cold and detached tone, devoid of empathy or compassion.

Dread and fear coursed through me as I heard those words. The memories of the first night I had arrived at this place resurfaced, and I knew what he intended to do. I had become his concubine, but I had never bargained for any of this. The prospect of experiencing that pain again, the physical and emotional anguish, was almost too much to bear.

I found myself moving back slowly, as if trying to distance myself from the impending torment. But his voice came again, piercing and commanding, with a warning that left no room for defiance.

"Are you deaf, or do you just want to piss me off? Why are you moving backward? I said pull your clothes and bend over. Don't let me repeat myself again."

My pleas fell on deaf ears as I begged, "Please, not again. I can't take this. Please, don't do this to me." The desperation in my voice was palpable, but it seemed to have no effect on the cruel fate that awaited me.

With a brutal force, he seized me, spinning me around and bending me over with one hand. I couldn't resist or wiggle away; he was undeniably stronger than I was. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, the searing pain engulfed my body as he thrust inside me with a violence that left me gasping for breath.

This form of punishment was unlike anything I had endured before. The agony was both physical and emotional, and it cut deeper than any beating I had received in the past. As the pain intensified, I clung to a thread of hope that someday, somehow, I would find a path to escape this never-ending nightmare.

After he had finished with me, he showed no tenderness or remorse. With a cold and heartless demeanor, he pushed me down onto the hard, unforgiving floor, hastily pulling up his trousers as if my presence had become nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

Tears streamed relentlessly down my cheeks as I found the courage to voice the burning question that had plagued me for so long. My voice trembled with a mix of desperation and sorrow as I dared to confront the tormentor before me.

"Why are you being so mean to me? Why have you decided to torture me like this? What did I ever do to deserve such cruelty from you?" I implored, my voice cracking with the weight of my anguish. "I thought you were a good person. You saved me from those rogues who almost devoured me. Why did you save me if you knew you were going to subject me to this never-ending torment? You should have let me die."

The room seemed to close in on me, the walls bearing witness to my raw vulnerability. The questions hung heavily in the air, a plea for some semblance of understanding, for a glimmer of compassion that had remained elusive.

He walked closer to where I sat on the cold floor, his imposing presence casting a shadow over me. Bending down, he delivered a stinging slap across my already bruised cheek.