Unvalued Since Birth: The Alpha Daughter Who Took Revenge

Aveline Rainsworthington had learned long ago that within the walls of the Silvercrest Packhouse, silence was far safer than explanation.

She had understood this truth from the very beginning. As a child, she had once believed that if she just explained herself clearly, her father, Malcolm Rainsworthington, would believe her. She thought that if she cried hard enough, her mother, Rosalind Rainsworthington, would finally offer a hug. She hoped that if she were patient and yielding enough to her sister, Bianca Rainsworthington, the cruel jokes would eventually stop.

But the years had stripped away those illusions. Her family knew exactly what the truth was; they simply didn't care. It didn't matter if she was hurt, and it didn't matter how tyrannical Bianca's behavior became.

As evening fell, the first floor of the packhouse was a blur of activity in preparation for dinner. Bianca was set to meet several younger pack members tonight, and she had spent the entire afternoon working Aveline to the bone. Just as Aveline finished scrubbing the hallway, Bianca stood at the top of the stairs, her voice sharp with impatience.

"Aveline, can't you move any faster?" Bianca snapped. "My blue dress hasn't been ironed, my boots aren't polished, and did you even bother to organize the jewelry box in my room?"

Aveline stopped, the damp rag still in her hand. Her fingers were raw and red at the joints from hours of plunging them into cold water.

"I was scrubbing the floors downstairs," she said softly. "Mother said they had to be finished before dinner."

Bianca descended the stairs, the hem of her skirt swaying gracefully. She looked at the wet cloth in Aveline's hand with blatant disgust.

"That's your problem, not mine," Bianca said. "When I give you a task, you do it first. Surely you don't think mopping the floor is more important than my needs?"

Aveline didn't answer immediately. She knew what Bianca was looking for. Her sister didn't just want chores done; she wanted Aveline to acknowledge her own inferiority. Every command, every insult, wasn't a whim—it was Bianca's way of reinforcing the hierarchy.

In this house, Bianca was the cherished daughter. She could throw tantrums, break things, and pin every mistake on Aveline. Malcolm would frown and reprimand Aveline for it, while Rosalind would sigh and call her difficult. Over time, Bianca realized that as long as Aveline was the target, there were no consequences for her cruelty.

"I'll do it now," Aveline said.

Bianca didn't move aside. Instead, she reached out and flicked a strand of Aveline's hair as if she were inspecting something filthy.

"Look at you, always like this," Bianca laughed. "Covered in dust and grime, like a common servant. You know, sometimes I truly forget you're even a Rainsworthington daughter. Perhaps you were never meant to be one."

Aveline's chest tightened. She had heard variations of this a thousand times, yet it stung every time it left Bianca's lips. It wasn't because Bianca's opinion mattered, but because those words were backed by the silent, crushing weight of their parents' approval.

Malcolm emerged from his study just then. He had clearly heard the exchange. Aveline looked up at him instinctively. She didn't expect much, but a small, dying part of her still wondered if her father would finally say, "Bianca, that's enough."

Malcolm's gaze lingered between them for a moment. He saw the wet rag in Aveline's hand and the smirk on Bianca's face.

Finally, he spoke only to Aveline. "Don't keep your sister waiting. She has guests to meet tonight. Don't let your slowness be an embarrassment to her."

Aveline's fingers curled into her palms.

"Yes, Alpha."

She didn't call him Father. She hadn't dared to do that in years. Every time she used the word, Malcolm's eyes would turn ice-cold, as if the title were an insult coming from her mouth.

Bianca smiled triumphantly. She leaned in close to Aveline, her voice a poisonous whisper meant only for her sister's ears. "See? Don't think anyone is going to help you. No one in this family is on your side."

As Aveline carried Bianca's dress upstairs, she ran into Rosalind coming from the other end of the corridor. Her mother saw the dress in her arms and frowned deeply.

"Why are you still here? The kitchen staff said the flowers for the table haven't been changed yet."

"Bianca told me to handle her dress first," Aveline explained.

Rosalind's irritation deepened. "Then hurry up. Don't act as if every task is a burden forced upon you. Your sister is meeting people tonight; she cannot afford any mistakes."

"And what about me?" The words nearly burst from Aveline's lips.

She wanted to ask why Bianca wasn't allowed to make mistakes, while she wasn't even allowed the dignity of an explanation. Why were Bianca's dress, her boots, her jewelry, and her mood all more important than Aveline's exhaustion?

Why, despite being a member of this family, was one daughter showered with devotion while the other was treated with nothing but cold neglect? Was she not their daughter too?

But the words remained trapped in her throat. She simply bowed her head and said, "I understand."

Rosalind didn't give her a second look before turning away.

Aveline returned to Bianca's room, ironing the dress, polishing the boots, and organizing the jewelry. Bianca sat on the edge of the bed, watching her work like a master observing a slave.

"Careful. That necklace is expensive."

"Don't wrinkle the hem."

"You really are slow. No wonder Father doesn't like you."

Aveline's hands faltered for a fraction of a second.

Bianca seized the reaction immediately, her laughter echoing. "What? Did I say something wrong? If Father liked you, would he let you do this? If Mother cared about you, would she let you walk around the house looking like that?"

Aveline spoke in a low, flat voice. "You've already gotten what you wanted."

"Not yet." Bianca stood up and stepped into Aveline's space. "I also want to hear you say that you're happy to serve me."

Aveline looked up. Deep within her soul, Emerald let out a low, guttural snarl. Her wolf was sensitive and suppressed, trapped in this house alongside her for years. Emerald was far less patient than Aveline, but Aveline knew that any rebellion would only bring more pain.

"Say it," Bianca prodded, stepping closer.

Aveline bit her lip. After a few agonizing seconds, she whispered, "I will get the job done."

Bianca wasn't satisfied, but someone called her name from downstairs, and she finally let Aveline be. Before leaving the room, she cast one last look over her shoulder.

"Stay upstairs tonight. You look exhausted. It would be a damper on the evening if anyone saw you."

When the door clicked shut, the room fell into a heavy silence.

Aveline stood still for a long time before slowly placing the jewelry back into the box. This wasn't the first time she had been treated this way. In fact, this was the texture of her life. Bianca gave orders, Malcolm gave consent, and Rosalind gave silence. The rest of the pack saw this dynamic and followed suit, mocking her just as Bianca did. The children called her the "Spare Miss Rainsworthington," the young wolves on the training grounds would intentionally shoulder-check her, and the servants left the filthiest chores for her, knowing the Alpha family would never stand up for Aveline.

She retreated to her small, cramped room. It was nothing like Bianca's bright, spacious suite. The curtains were old and the space was dim, but it was the only place she could hide, even if only for a moment.

Laughter drifted up from downstairs, with Bianca's voice ringing the loudest. Aveline sat on the edge of her bed, listening to the festivities, feeling a hollow ache in her chest.

"Let's go out," she whispered to the wolf in her mind.

Emerald responded instantly. She wanted to run. She wanted to escape the walls, the commands, the mockery, and the cold glares. Aveline wanted the same.

Late into the night, once the packhouse finally grew quiet, Aveline changed into her old clothes and slipped out through the window. She knew every path that avoided the patrol routes and every corner where no one bothered to look. The closer she got to the border of the Wolfsbane Pack territory, the fewer Silvercrest members she encountered. It was dangerous there, but danger was at least honest. The forest would never pretend to be family just to hurt her.

Deep within the woods, she let Emerald out.

The moment the shift took place, cold wind rushed through her fur, and the crushing weight on Aveline's chest finally loosened. Emerald began to run, her speed increasing with every stride. Trees blurred past, and moonlight fractured against the forest floor. In that moment, she was no longer Bianca's servant, no longer the daughter Malcolm refused to acknowledge, and no longer the burden in Rosalind's eyes.

She was simply running.

When her muscles finally grew heavy, Aveline stopped by a familiar stream. She shifted back into her human form, pulled on the old clothes she had hidden beneath a rock, and climbed an ancient tree. This was her sanctuary. She could sit on the high branches, staring at the distant border line, and pretend she still had choices.

But tonight, the forest was not hers alone.

Footsteps approached from nearby, accompanied by the low, hushed laughter of a man and a woman. Aveline stiffened, instinctively holding her breath. She assumed it was a patrol and prepared to hide deeper in the foliage, until a familiar voice reached her ears.

"I told you no one comes here," Bianca whispered. "They're all terrified of the Wolfsbane Pack."

A man's voice followed with a low chuckle.

Aveline's heart plummeted.

Callum Griffin stepped out from the shadows of the trees. Bianca was at his side, her hand resting naturally on his arm.

Aveline's fingers dug into the bark of the tree. Callum had never made her any promises, but he had smiled at her once. He had handed her a towel after training. Those tiny, insignificant kindnesses had been magnified in her barren life, blossoming into a secret, unspoken crush.

Bianca leaned against Callum, her tone intimate. "See? I told you this was a good place to meet."

"You've always been bold," Callum replied.

"Of course," Bianca said with a laugh. "How can a future Luna be afraid of the woods?"

Aveline found it harder and harder to breathe. Before she could even process why they were here together, the wind suddenly shifted direction.

A scent hit her with the force of a physical blow.

It was warm, clear, and impossible to ignore.

Emerald reared up in her mind, her voice not in words, but in a certainty that vibrated through Aveline's entire being.

Mate.

Aveline froze in the tree, staring down at Callum. The man she had secretly loved, the one she hoped might one day look at her with kindness, was standing there with Bianca.

And at that exact moment, fate cruelly revealed that he was her fated Mate bond.

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