Chapter 17 - Your worth

Chapter 17: 17 - Your worth 17 ~Lisa’s POV "I’m sorry," I said, turning slightly to face Belinda, keeping my head down. My voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "It won’t happen again." Belinda scoffed loudly, flipping her hair over her shoulder like she was brushing my apology away. Before I could take another step, Damon’s voice snapped through the room. "What can you even do right?" he barked. I froze in place. His words felt like a knife, cutting through the little strength I had left. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe right. My lips moved without sound for a second before I found the strength to speak again. "I’m sorry," I repeated, my voice smaller this time. "I’ll fix it." No one answered me. Just silence. Heavy and thick. I turned and walked out of the room, my feet moving quickly down the hallway. The tray trembled in my hands with every step. My heart was beating fast, but my face was blank. I had nothing left to give at that moment. I felt like I was fading. Back in the kitchen, I placed the tray down and leaned against the counter, eyes stinging. I didn’t cry. Not yet. I just stood there for a moment, letting the ache in my chest settle.View the correct content at I was tired. My body felt heavy. I hadn’t even fully recovered from fainting this morning, but here I was again, running around, being insulted, treated like a mistake just for existing. I had barely eaten. Barely rested. My arms ached, and my head was starting to throb. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t afford to stop. I took a deep breath, wiped my hands on the cloth near the sink, and reached for another cup. I picked it carefully this time, crystal clear, no spots, no chips. I filled a small bowl with clean water and started to wash it again, even though it was already clean. My fingers scrubbed every corner, moving slowly, making sure nothing could be complained about this time. I rinsed it, then dried it gently with a fresh towel, holding it up to the light to check if it sparkled. It did. But still, I polished it one more time just to be safe. This was more than just a cup. It was survival. It was trying to stay out of trouble. It was proving that I could follow rules, no matter how unfair they were. I placed the cup on the tray again, carefully, quietly. My hands were trembling a little, but I straightened my back, told myself to keep going. I walked back into the room quietly, keeping my eyes low. The tray in my hands felt heavier than before, though it only carried a single glass and the bottle of wine. I didn’t look at anyone. I just moved carefully toward Belinda, trying to keep my breathing steady. My arms were tired, and my legs felt like they would give out any second. But I kept going. She was lounging like a queen, one leg crossed over the other, her hand resting on Rowan’s shoulder. The three Alphas barely glanced at me. I reached the table near her and began to open the wine. My fingers were a bit shaky, but I managed to twist off the cap and pour it slowly into the cup. Then her voice cut through the air, sharp like a blade. "Wait." I froze. "Are you seriously giving me this?" she said, her face twisted in disgust. "This cheap, bitter thing?" I swallowed hard. "I...I asked the maids, but they didn’t tell me which one you preferred..." Belinda laughed. A cold, bitter laugh that made the hairs on my neck stand. "Of course, they didn’t," she said, rolling her eyes. "Because why would anyone waste time explaining anything to someone like you?" I didn’t answer. I just stood still, gripping the tray tighter to stop my hands from shaking more. She leaned closer, her voice low and full of mockery. "You really think being mated to them suddenly makes you special? You’re still nothing, Lisa. Just a stupid little slave playing dress-up." The words hit me like stones. I kept my head down, but my chest tightened painfully. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even think I could say anything that would matter. She flicked her hand at the tray. "Take this trash back. I don’t drink cheap wine. Maybe you and the rats you live with can enjoy it." I clenched my jaw, still refusing to look at her. "You think this palace is yours now?" she added, voice sweet but cruel. "Think again. You’re just a joke. And you’ll always be." As I reached for the tray, trying to quietly take the wine bottle back, Belinda spoke again, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Get the wine I actually drink," she said, eyes glinting with annoyance. "The one in the tall, black bottle with the silver seal. It’s expensive. Imported. Not that garbage you just brought in." I paused, blinking at her. "I..I’m not sure which one..." She cut me off with a sharp scoff. "Figure it out. Or ask someone who’s not brainless. And be careful with it. If you drop that bottle, you’ll work five years just to repay it." My mouth went dry. "It costs more than anything you’ve ever touched in your miserable little life," she added with a cruel smile. "Definitely more than your rags. Or your worth." I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something. I just nodded quickly, picked up the tray, and backed away from them. The moment I stepped out of the room, I let out a quiet breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I didn’t even know what that wine looked like. But I knew I had to find it, and not break it. Because if I did, I knew she’d make my life worse than it already was. And maybe... the triplets would let her. They always did. I gripped the tray tighter as I walked quickly through the hallway, my heart pounding with every step. My legs were already weak, still aching from the kitchen duty, but I couldn’t stop now. Not when they were watching. Not when any mistake could lead to another punishment. The thought of breaking that wine bottle scared me more than I wanted to admit. I didn’t have money. I didn’t have a family name to protect me. If something went wrong, I knew exactly who would pay the price, me. Always me. I reached the wine cellar and looked around helplessly. Dozens of bottles lined the tall shelves, each labeled with names I couldn’t pronounce. I scanned the rows, searching for something, anything, that matched Belinda’s words. Tall. Black bottle. Silver seal. Finally, in the far corner, almost hidden behind another row, I saw it. It was heavier than I expected, the glass cool and smooth under my fingers. I held it with both hands, terrified of dropping it. My arms trembled slightly, but I forced myself to breathe. Slow. Careful. I set it gently on the tray and picked up a fresh glass, clean, polished, spotless. I didn’t want to give her any reason to yell again. I whispered under my breath, "Please don’t let me mess this up."