Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother
Chapter 51: _ Tired Of Fighting

Chapter 51: _ Tired Of Fighting

As I headed inside, I had to ignore the stares of the workers and maids as I passed. The whispers. The judgment.

I was used to it by now.

"María José is cursed."

"She brought this upon herself."

"No wonder Don Diego has to be strict with her."

I didn’t care.

I needed to find Juana.

Father had summoned her earlier and I needed to know why. I could only hope deep down, that she wasn’t in any form of trouble because of me.

I searched the halls, peering into rooms, scanning for the one person in this entire house who had ever been kind to me. My best friend.

When I couldn’t find her, I stopped one of the younger maids. "Have you seen Juana?"

The girl stiffened, her eyes darting around nervously. "I—I don’t know."

I frowned. "What do you mean, you don’t know? She works here."

The maid took a step back, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I have to go," she muttered before bolting away as if speaking to me would get her killed.

Panic wriggled its way into my chest.

I grabbed another maid. "Where’s Juana?"

She flinched. "I don’t know, I swear! Please, I don’t want to be cursed!"

And then she ran, too.

What the hell were their problems?!

I stood there, breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what was happening.

A sinking feeling took root in my chest as I marched deeper into the house, towards the kitchen. If she wasn’t in the servants’ quarters, she had to be—

I stopped.

The butler stood in my path with a neutral expression and a stiff posture.

"Señorita," he said formally.

I exhaled. "Where’s Juana?"

He clenched his jaw and his gaze fell.

That was all I needed.

Something was wrong.

I took a step forward, repeating a lot more urgently now. "Where. Is. Juana?"

A pause.

And then...

"Fired."

The word was synonymous with a slap across the face when it hit me. What in the fuck did he mean she was fired?!

I blinked. "What?"

"Don Diego relieved her of her duties this morning."

"No." I shook my head. That couldn’t be right. "She—she was just—"

"She was dismissed," he repeated. "She has already left."

I felt the ground tilt beneath me.

Juana was gone.

The one person in this household who had ever cared about me, who had ever protected me—gone.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

I staggered back, feeling my knees wobbling.

"Would you like anything else, Señorita?" the butler asked, as if this was just another ordinary day.

I stared at him with a shuddering body, my mind buzzing with shock, with rage, with grief.

I swallowed thickly, my throat burning as I forced the words out. "Why was she fired?"

My voice barely sounded like my own. I had a pretty tiny voice, but this time, it was hoarse and trembling.

The butler clasped his hands in front of him. "Your father did not see fit to keep a servant who prioritizes your well-being over his orders."

Oh, please. No. Dios mio. She was INDEED fired because of me.

I stared at him, hearing my heart pounding in my ears. "She was fired for helping me?"

"Yes, Señorita." His tone was devoid of sympathy, as if this were just another routine dismissal, not the ripping away of the only person in this house who had ever shown me kindness. "Don Diego deemed her loyalty misplaced."

Misplaced.

What sort of a stupid excuse to exert dominance was this?

Because she had the audacity to care. Because she had dared to treat me like a human being instead of a cursed burden.

I had been holding myself together, barely, but the epiphany of this sent a fresh wave of devastation crumbling down on me. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms.

The maids, the ones who had been eavesdropping from the shadows, started whispering again.

"She deserved it," one muttered.

"She was too close to María José. It was only a matter of time before she was cursed too."

I turned instantly to them with a death stare.

"Oh, don’t look at us like that, Señorita," one of them said, smirking. "You should be used to it by now. Everything you touch turns to ruin."

That’s it... I no longer had the respect of anyone. Not the maids, not the workers. Nobody.

My heart ached so badly, my eyes stung, and my whole body trembled from head to toe.

I didn’t stay to hear anymore. I spun on my heel and bolted down the hall. I didn’t stop until I reached my room, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

And then, I broke down.

I slid down onto the floor, pressing my forehead to my knees as silent sobs broke through me.

I was so tired.

Tired of being hated.

Tired of fighting.

Tired of losing the only people who cared about me.

I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking slightly, trying to hold myself together when I felt like I was collapsing piece by piece.

Juana was gone.

She was gone.

And now, I was truly alone.

I lost track of how long I cried. My body ached, my chest heaved, and my head pounded, but the tears just kept coming. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

Eventually, the sobs turned into sniffles. My throat was raw, my nose stuffed, my body quivering from exhaustion.

I needed to do something—anything—to keep from myself drowning in this misery.

I forced myself to sit up, wiping my eyes with shaky fingers. My reflection in the mirror across the room stared back at me, and I nearly flinched.

I looked like hell.

My cheeks were blotchy and swollen from crying, my lips chapped, and my eyes red-rimmed and puffy. But beyond that, I was a mess.

Bruises littered my arms, blooming purple and yellow from the fight I had with Camila yesterday. My skin was scratched and raw, my wrists sore from where my father had grabbed me earlier.

I inhaled sharply, shoving my sleeve up to get a better look. The marks were deep and dark. I took them as a brutal reminder of how easily he could crush me if he wanted to.

Father would crush me.

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