The Alpha’s Forgotten Daughter Chapter 09
“ICU?!”
Mom screamed, her legs buckling as she collapsed beside the sofa in the security office.
Dad instantly forgot about grabbing my phone. He spun and seized Ethan by the collar.
“What the hell happened?! What’s wrong with Maya?!”
“The school said… said Maya fought with her roommate and shoved her down the stairs…”
Ethan’s arrogant rich–boy swagger evaporated into nothing.
Whatever appetite they’d had to force me to drop out was gone.
The three of them scrambled out of the security office in a frantic mess, booked the first flight back to the Silver Moon Pack that night.
The next two weeks were gloriously quiet.
Through the relentless gossip in my high school class group, I pieced together the whole story.
Without me as her twenty–four–hour full–time servant, Maya’s spoiled, selfish nature had been laid bare in the college dorms.
She habitually ordered her roommate to fetch her meals and do her laundry.
When the girl refused, Maya threw tantrums and even secretly dumped all her skincare products into the toilet.
When the roommate confronted her, Maya’s princess rage erupted. She shoved the girl down half a flight of stairs right in the hallway.
The girl suffered a severe concussion and a shattered calf. She landed in the ICU.
The girl’s parents stormed Maya’s dorm with a crowd and hung protest banners in front of the school and the Pack Council.
The news that an Alpha’s daughter had brutalized an innocent civilian spread like wildfire.
To keep Maya out of jail, Dad swallowed his Alpha pride, groveled before the elders, and paid the victim’s
family nearly two million dollars just to reach a fragile settlement.
Maya was slapped with severe disciplinary sanctions and placed on academic probation.
Worse, without.me to ghostwrite her essays and cram for her exams, Maya failed every single class. She became the laughingstock of her entire department.
Amid the daily pandemonium, they finally remembered me.
They remembered the blood bag who had silently swallowed every chore, who had kept Maya’s life seamless.
Late Friday night, just after my combat tutoring shift, a flood of messages popped up in my blocked–filter app.
Ethan sent a long text: [Claire, I swear I know I was wrong. Home is a disaster right now. Maya cries every day. Mom and Dad fight every day. If only you were here…]
Mom sent over a dozen friend requests, each one with a message attached: [I miss you. I know I wasn’t there for you before–please forgive me, okay? Come home when you can.]
I stared at these belated declarations of devotion and felt nothing but bitter mockery.
They hadn’t suddenly learned how to love. Real life had just kicked their asses, and they missed the one person they could dump everything on—for free.