My Problem

I swung my legs off the bed and stood, my jaw tight, my chest burning with rage. She thinks she can order me to smile and nod while they all plot my fate?

She had good genes, undeniably so, and a part of me silently hoped I had inherited them from her. At least if that were the only thing I could claim from being her daughter—her beauty and graceful figure—then maybe it was something worth holding onto.

Fine. If she wanted me downstairs, then I would go, but not the way she expected.

Her lips trembled, but she quickly steadied herself, masking her emotions with that familiar, practiced composure. “You think you know everything, Olivia, but you don’t. You’re blinded by your stubbornness. You have been vowed to Lord Frederick, and it’s either you marry him or you lose your life.”

I frowned, pushing myself up so I could sit properly on the bed. I folded my legs beneath me and leaned my back against the headboard, steadying myself before looking her straight in the eye.

“What do you want, Mother?” I asked, making sure she could notice the displeasure in my voice.

I laughed bitterly. “My life?” I leaned forward, glaring at her. “You mean your reputation. I don’t know what Lord Frederick has promised you that you seem so desperate about me marrying him.”

Mother continued. “All I am doing is for your good… I want you alive, is that a crime?” My frown deepened, and I dragged my attention back to her. Her eyes were now filled with tears.

Olivia’s POV

My words must have greatly affected her because her eyes widened for a moment, then the surprise was replaced by hurt as tears began to well up in her eyes. I frowned and looked away so it wouldn’t have any effect on me.

I leveled my gaze at her. “I don’t want to see him,” I spat.

Her nostrils flared, her composure slipping for just a second before she caught it again.

“Enough of this,” she said firmly, her voice final. “You will come downstairs and meet Lord Frederick and the guests. That is not a request, Olivia. It is an order.”

I scoffed. “She thinks she can control me?” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head with a humorless laugh. My wolf snarled again, restless and furious, but I forced myself to stay calm, to think.

“So this is what you think of me, Olivia? You see me as your enemy?” she asked, sounding heartbroken, but I didn’t respond, nor did I say a word.

“Lower your voice,” she hissed, glancing sharply toward the door as if the walls themselves were eavesdropping. Then she turned back to me, eyes narrowed with frustration. “You will not embarrass me, Olivia, not after everything I’ve done to keep you alive. You may hate me, but one day you will understand that every choice I make is to ensure your survival.”

Color drained from her face, then flared back with anger. “What is wrong with you?” she whispered harshly. “Why must you always attack me? Why must you always make me your enemy?”

Her lips curved into a tight line, the kind that always came before she began to lecture me. “Olivia, stop this nonsense. You will see Lord Frederick. He’s been waiting patiently, and it would be rude of you to refuse him. Do not make a scene.”

My mother stepped inside. Of course. Because even in my worst moments, I was never allowed the space to breathe.

I leaned forward, my voice rising. “I didn’t give my consent to be vowed to him, and I don’t want him. How many times do I have to say it before you finally hear me?”

My chest heaved as I held her gaze, refusing to let her tears get to me. “For my good?” I scoffed, my voice dripping with venom. “Don’t you dare stand there and pretend you care about me, Mother. If you truly wanted what was good for me, you’d listen when I say no. You’d protect me from men like him, not throw me into their arms like some bargaining chip.”

Without waiting for my response, she turned and swept out of the room, the door shutting softly behind her, but the sound echoed like a sentence in my ears.

I felt my wolf bristle inside me, snarling with defiance, but my mother did not waver. She adjusted her gown, as though that ended the matter. “Fix yourself,” she added coldly, “and do not keep them waiting any longer. I expect you downstairs.”

At the mention of his name, my wolf growled furiously inside me, and a deep frown carved into my face.

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “Survival? What kind of survival is it if I lose myself in the process? If I become nothing more than a puppet for you and whatever schemes you’ve tied yourself into with Frederick? That’s not survival, Mother. That’s a slow death.”

She sighed and shook her head as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. “Why must you always be so difficult? Do you think every choice in life is yours to make? You are endangering yourself. Your life is at risk here.”

“Enough!” she snapped, her voice raised and enraged. “You are behaving like a spoiled child. What is so wrong with Lord Frederick? Tell me, what exactly is the problem?”

Her eyes widened, but I didn’t stop. “If you like Lord Frederick so much, you should marry him. He’s old enough, isn’t he? Older than you, even. Maybe the two of you would make a perfect pair.”

My chest rose and fell, the weight of everything between us pressing down like a storm about to explode. “Because you are my enemy,” I said loud and firm. “Every time I try to breathe, you’re there, pushing me toward something I don’t want. You are my problem, Mother. Not Frederick. Not anyone else. Just you.”

She didn’t answer at once. Instead, she stepped closer and stopped by my side. “Lord Frederick is downstairs with a few guests… he wants to see you.”

I clenched my jaw, my wolf’s growl echoing deep inside me. “I said I don’t want to see him,” I repeated, slower this time, my anger rising.

I tilted my head, watching her carefully, then let the words roll off my tongue like poison. “The problem isn’t him. It’s you.”

She looked beautiful today, dressed in a royal blue gown that swept elegantly across the floor. Her long black hair was pulled neatly into a bun, showing off the striking lines of her face. She was still beautiful, ageless almost. Despite nearing fifty, she looked remarkably young, her appearance still capable of being mistaken for a woman in her late thirties.

She furrowed her brows, “You don’t seem happy to see me,” she said.

A dark smirk tugged at my lips as I straightened my gown and adjusted my hair. “Then let her watch me put on a show,” I whispered to myself, my voice laced with mischief. “If she wants a spectacle, I’ll give her one, and neither she nor Frederick will see it coming.”