THE ALPHA'S HIDDEN HEIRESS

The sun hadn't risen, yet Amara Blackwell was already on her knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor until her hands stung.

Dirt and cold stone scraped her palms. Hunger clawed at her stomach, but that was nothing new. She was used to it.

Morwen sometimes threw food out just to watch Amara stare at it, helpless.

A sharp ache pulsed through her back. Old scars tugged beneath her dress with every bend, every breath.

At twenty, she already felt older than her bones.

She eased onto a low stool, bracing her shaking hands on her lap. Her chest heaved as she tried to steady herself.

This would be another long day. Another day of waiting, fearing, surviving.

The door burst open.

"Amara! Off that stool this instant! Do you plan to waste the whole day sitting?" Morwen's voice cracked like a whip.

Amara jerked to her feet, heart thudding painfully.

"I... I only rested a moment," she whispered.

"Resting? You rest more than you work. Do you think this manor runs on air?" Morwen asked scoffing. 

Amara looked down, fingers twisting at her apron. The wrong word, the bad look any of it could end badly. She had learned that the hard way.

Morwen stepped closer, breath cold enough to make Amara stiffen.

"Today, you're going to Master Hargrove's estate."

Amara's head snapped up. A sharp panic stabbed through her chest.

"No... Mother, please. Not there. I'll do anything else." she begged.

 Morwen's hand struck her before the sentence even ended.

The slap echoed through the kitchen, burning Amara's cheek.

"Do not call me that, I am not your mother. You're a burden I never asked for." Morwen hissed.

Amara swallowed hard, tears blurring her vision.

Morwen  had never called her a daughter.

Amara had lived in the Blackwell manor since she was ten the year her father brought Morwen home as his new wife, before she'd even learned how to mourn her mother.

 Morwen never claimed her.

Never tried. Love had never come with Morwen's name.

"You eat my food, sleep under my roof, and what do I get from you? Nothing. It's time you earned your keep." Morwen's voice dropped to a cruel whisper. 

Amara swallowed hard.

"I can clean more... cook more... I'll work twice as hard. Please. Don't send me there."

"No,"  Morwen snapped. "Master Hargrove needs another girl in his service. I already told him you're coming tonight. You will obey."

Amara shook her head, stepping back until her spine brushed the counter.

Everyone in Briar Village knew the whispers that the girls worked at that estate until they broke. Some never returned.

 Morwen moved closer, her shadow stretching over Amara's trembling form.

"If you defy me, I'll use the iron again. You remember how it feels, don't you?"

Amara's breath hitched. She shook her head quickly, trying to push away the memory of hot metal against her skin.

"I'll do as you say, please... just don't hurt me," she whispered. 

Morwen lips curled into a