Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother
Chapter 296: _ The Envious Sister

Chapter 296: _ The Envious Sister

The eggs sizzled softly in the pan, the scent of butter and queso fresco melting into something comforting and familiar. I had the bread warming in the oven and the coffee brewing slowly on the side—just the way María José liked it. The kitchen was warm with morning light, humming, and for once, I felt grounded. This was peace and like it was home.

But it wasn’t and it didn’t last.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

The sound of slippers shuffling across the marble floor warned me seconds before she entered.

"Mmm," Camilla’s voice drifted. "Something smells amazing."

She turned the corner, her silk robe tied lazily at the waist, her hair a mess of tangled waves. She stopped short when she saw me at the stove. Her eyes lit up.

"Oh my god," she gasped. "You’re cooking? Brother-in-law, qué tierno, that’s so sweet of you to wake up and cook for us."

Cook for ’us’? Her delulu had just attained a greater height if she thought I was cooking for her. I didn’t even look up from the pan.

"I’m cooking for my wife," I said flatly.

Her smile disappeared, and for a split second, she blinked like she hadn’t heard right. Then she chuckled, brushing it off.

"Oh come on," she said, stepping closer and leaning on the counter with fake innocence. "You can’t possibly expect me to just sit and watch while you make such a lovely breakfast. I’m starving! And besides, we’re friends... you wouldn’t leave your friend to starve, would you?"

Friends? She was out of her mind if she thought we were ever friends, to begin with.

I turned to face her then, finally meeting her eyes, my jaw tightening. "I stopped being your friend the day I found out how you treated María José. That’s if we were even friends to begin with."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her lips parted like she was about to say something, but I held up a hand and spoke sternly.

"You bullied her. For years. Treated her like she was less than you, like she didn’t belong in her own family. At first, it was because she was prettier than you can ever be. And then, because she didn’t shift on time? Because she was quiet? Because she didn’t fight back?" I scoffed. "You made her life a living hell under your father’s roof and now you have the audacity to act like you’re owed something from me?"

Camilla’s face reddened, but I wasn’t done.

"She’s your little sister, Camilla. You should’ve protected her. Encouraged her. You knew the things people said about her, and you didn’t just let them—you joined in. Because it was easy. Because she was vulnerable."

I tossed the spatula down and stepped closer, my voice lowering, while I sliced every word through her like a blade.

"And now that we know she does have a wolf... suddenly everything you did looks even uglier. You should be ashamed of yourself. You owe her an apology, and not one of those fake ones. A real one. A tear-on-your-knees kind of apology. Because the only reason she’s still here—still kind, is because she’s better than the rest of us."

Camilla blinked rapidly, her lower lip trembling. For a second, I hoped that maybe she’d let that sink in.

But no.

Her eyes welled with tears, and her voice cracked with a vulnerability I didn’t trust.

"Wow," she whispered. "So you’ve really turned your back on me too, huh?"

I exhaled sharply through my nose. "This isn’t about me..."

"No, of course not," she interrupted, her voice growing louder and more pained. "It’s never about me. It’s always about María José. It always has been!"

She swiped at her tears and leaned back from the counter, her body shaking.

"You think I’m cruel? That I’m the bad sister?" she snapped, voice rising. "Rosa murdered our mother, Axel. She killed her. And then everyone just... moved on and you just replaced her with María José because it is always her. Even when she was the ostracized one, the spotlight was still on her. And this mystery crime that even Father was unable to solve, who solved it? HER. You expect me to treat her like royalty after that?"

Why, yes? She deserved to be treated better than royalty after all of that. I stared at Camilla, stunned by how quickly she twisted the conversation.

"You think I’m not hurting?" she said, voice cracking again. "You think I didn’t cry for all night? Alone? Because my husband was too busy scrolling through his fucking phone to notice I was drowning? That the whole world pitied María José while I was left to pick up pieces of a family that would never be whole again?"

The silence between us thickened. Her tears were flowing freely now, and her voice turned small, like a little girl lost in a crowd.

"She got everything she ever wanted in the end... A powerful wolf. A hero title. A perfect mate. And I got... I got nothing."

Her voice cracked so sharply it echoed against the kitchen tiles.

"I got nothing," she repeated softly, as if finally admitting it to herself.

But I wasn’t moved.

I crossed my arms. "You didn’t get nothing, Camilla. You just spent so long looking down on her that you didn’t know what to do when she rose higher than you."

Her mouth dropped open.

"You think this is about envy?" she breathed.

"I know it is," I said coldly. "You keep trying to justify it—she exposed her own sister, stole her fiance, she got what she wanted, no one consoled me... but deep down, what eats you alive is the fact that María José came out on top despite everything. Despite you."

I turned back to the stove and flipped the eggs.

"You should go back upstairs," I added. "Let Álvaro console you if he can pull himself away from his phone long enough to notice. Because whatever sympathy you’re fishing for from me... you won’t find it here."

She stood there for another second, breathing shakily, waiting for me to soften.

I didn’t.

Eventually, she turned and stormed out, her slippers screeching against the tiles like a tantrum.

The smell of the eggs wafted up again, joined by the sweet aroma of pan dulce and cinnamon coffee. I plated the food carefully, arranging everything just right. No smudges. No overcooked edges.

Only the best for my wife.

María José was everything Camilla claimed to be but never was; kind, strong, forgiving, and real. And whatever lay ahead for us, I knew one thing for sure:

I would burn down the world before I let her suffer again.