Jillian POV:
The humiliation didn't stop at the Gala. It was Elder Eleanor's eightieth birthday. The matriarch despised me.
"You will present a gift," Alex had ordered. "Something handmade. Show some effort."
I had spent nights painting the Silver Lake forest. It was the only piece of home I had left.
The banquet hall smelled of roasted meat and judgment. Elder Eleanor sat on her throne, eyes sharp as a hawk's.
"The Omega has a gift," Alex announced, bored.
I stepped forward, holding the covered canvas. "Happy Birthday, Elder Eleanor."
I pulled the cloth away.
Gasps rang out.
My blood ran cold.
It wasn't my landscape. The canvas was a crude, grotesque painting of Eleanor's face on a pig's body, roasting on a spit.
"Abomination!" Eleanor shrieked. "Insolent cur!"
"No!" I cried. "This isn't mine! I painted the forest! Someone switched it!"
I looked at Charlotte. She was covering a smirk behind a champagne flute.
"Alex, please," I begged. "You saw me painting the trees!"
Alex looked at the painting, then at me. He knew. He had to know. But he sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Grandmother, she has no taste," Alex said dismissively. "I'll have her removed."
"Removed?" Eleanor roared. "She insulted the Matriarch! She needs discipline!"
"She's just an Omega, Grandmother," Alex said, trying to de-escalate, but not defending me. "It's not worth the effort."
"It is to me! Guards! The cane!"
Two warriors grabbed my arms. Alex stepped back. He didn't stop them. He just poured himself a drink, looking away.
"Ten strikes," Eleanor commanded.
The cane came down. It wasn't the Silver Whip—that would kill me—but the heavy wood cracked against my back with bone-breaking force.
CRACK.
I bit my tongue to keep from screaming.
CRACK.
I locked eyes with Alex. He was checking his phone.
That was the moment. Not the pain of the wood, but the indifference in his eyes. He wasn't a monster who enjoyed my pain; he was a coward who wouldn't lift a finger to stop it.
By the tenth strike, I was slumped on the floor.
"Get her out of my sight," Eleanor spat.
As the guards dragged me away, I saw Charlotte whisper in Alex's ear. He finally smiled.
I didn't pass out. I memorized that smile. It was the fuel I needed.
