My Step-Sister's Wedding Ruined Me

The silk of the napkin felt like sandpaper in my hands. I smoothed it for the tenth time, lining its edge up perfectly with the rim of the gold-rimmed plate. My knuckles were white.

“Elara! Stop dawdling and get more champagne to table nine. The guests are waiting.”

My step-sister’s voice, Luna’s voice now, cut through the din of the reception like a whip. I didn’t look up. I just nodded, my throat too tight to form words.

The dress she’d chosen for me was a joke. A cruel, expensive joke. It was supposed to be a server’s uniform, but the black fabric was sheer across the bodice, held together by little more than hope and two thin straps.

The skirt was so short I had to move with glacial care to avoid exposing myself. Every time I bent to place a glass, I felt a dozen eyes on my back, heard the muffled snickers. I was a spectacle. A lowborn omega spectacle at my own ex-mate’s wedding.

I carried the heavy silver tray through the crowd, head down. The air was thick with the mingled scents of alpha dominance, beta contentment, and the cloying sweetness of omega joy that wasn’t mine. And beneath it all, his scent. Marcus. Cedar and cold rain. It used to make my wolf sit up and whine with happiness. Now it just made my stomach churn.

I reached table nine, a group of high-ranking pack alphas. “More champagne, sirs?” My voice was a whisper.

One of them, a grey-haired alpha with sharp eyes, looked me up and down slowly. A smirk played on his lips.

“Well, look what we have here. Marcus’s little cast-off. He upgraded, didn’t he?”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I focused on pouring, my hand trembling so badly the liquid nearly sloshed over the rim.

“Luna Celeste was wise to have you serve,” another chimed in, his gaze lingering on the sheer panel over my ribs. “Teaches proper humility. Reminds everyone of their place.”

My place. A low-level omega from a disgraced bloodline. Not good enough for a future Alpha, not even good enough to be a guest. I was furniture. Decorative, humiliating furniture.

I finished pouring and fled, the tray feeling like a lead weight. I needed air. I needed to be anywhere but here, surrounded by the proof of my own inadequacy, drowning in the scent of Marcus’s happiness with her.

I saw them then, at the head table. Marcus, looking every bit the proud Alpha-to-be, his arm draped around Luna’s shoulders. My step-sister. His Luna. She caught my eye across the room. Her smile was a blade, sharp and victorious. She leaned over, whispering something in his ear. He laughed, a rich, warm sound I remembered from a different life, and then his eyes found me.

There was no warmth in them. No regret. Just a cool, distant acknowledgment, like spotting a piece of furniture that was slightly out of place. He gave a faint, dismissive nod before