Sold to Bastard Alpha after My Divorce! novel Chapter 102

Chapter 102: Chapter 102

Aria’s POV

Human stink.

The words hit me like a physical blow.

I stared at my daughter. At her trembling lip. At the tears threatening to spill from those beautiful black-gold eyes.

"What did you say, baby?"

"They said I smell bad." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Like humans. Not like a real wolf."

My chest tightened. Squeezed. Made it impossible to breathe.

Because I knew exactly what that felt like.

The memories crashed over me without warning. Finn’s cold voice. Lilith’s disgusted face. The way they’d both wrinkled their noses whenever I walked into a room.

*"You stink, Mommy. Like garbage."*

Years of being told by Lilith I was lesser. Dirty. Wrong. All because my scent wasn’t strong enough. Wasn’t wolf enough.

And now someone was saying the same thing to my baby.

My three-year-old daughter who had done nothing wrong. Who was innocent and sweet and didn’t deserve any of this.

Rage. Pure, white-hot rage flooded through my veins.

"Who?" My voice came out hard. Dangerous. "Who said that to you, Lina?"

She didn’t answer with words. Just lifted her small hand and pointed.

I followed her finger.

Two girls stood near the school entrance. Maybe three or four years old. Both blonde. Both blue-eyed. Both wearing expensive uniforms.

They were laughing. Heads thrown back. Not a care in the world.

While my daughter stood here. Broken. Ashamed of something she couldn’t control.

"Stay here," I told Lina.

"Mommy—"

"Stay. Here."

I was already moving. My heels clicked against the stone pathway like gunshots. Each step fueled by fury. By years of swallowed humiliation. By every single time someone had made me feel small because of what I was.

Not anymore.

Never again.

And definitely not my daughter.

I reached the girls in seconds. Stepped directly into their path. Blocked them from entering the school.

They looked up at me. Startled. Then annoyed.

"Excuse me?" The taller one crossed her arms. "You’re in our way."

"I know exactly where I am." My voice was ice. "You two. You said something to a little girl this morning. About her smell."

The girls exchanged glances. Something flickered between them. Recognition.

"So what?" The shorter one shrugged. "We just told the truth."

"The truth?"

"Yeah." She wrinkled her nose. "That weird girl doesn’t smell like any of us. She smells like nothing. Like a human." She said the word like it was dirty. "It’s gross."

My hands clenched into fists.

"That ’weird girl’ is my daughter."

Both girls went still.

Then the taller one’s eyes widened. Her gaze traveled over me. Up and down. Taking in every detail.

"Oh." A slow smile spread across her face. Cruel. Knowing. "So YOU’RE Lina’s mom."

"Yes. I am."

"That explains everything." She nudged her friend. They both giggled. "No wonder she smells so bad. Look at her mother."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

"What did you just say?"

"You’re the dirty one." The shorter girl pointed at me. Her nose scrunched up in disgust. "I can smell it from here. You don’t smell like a wolf either. You smell like... like nothing. Like a human."

She leaned toward her friend. Stage-whispered loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"My mommy says people who smell like that are broken. They’re not real wolves. They’re just pretending."

"Your mommy is wrong."

"No, she’s not!" The girl’s voice rose. Defensive. "My mommy is never wrong! She says humans and human-smellers don’t belong here. She says they should go back to where they came from!"

Every word was a knife. Twisting deeper and deeper into wounds I thought had healed.

But this wasn’t about me.

I turned. Looked back at Lina.

She stood exactly where I’d left her. Cassius beside her, one protective hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were fixed on us. On this confrontation.

And tears were streaming down her face.

Silent tears. The worst kind. The kind that came when you were too hurt to even sob.

The teacher’s eyebrows rose slightly.

Before she could respond, the taller girl burst into tears.

Fake tears. I could see it immediately. The way she scrunched up her face. The theatrical sobbing.

"She grabbed me!" The girl pointed at me with a trembling finger. "She hurt me! She’s scary!"

"What?"

"She wanted to do something bad to us!" The shorter one joined in. Her eyes went wide and innocent. "We were just walking to class and she attacked us!"

"That’s a lie!"

"It’s NOT!" The taller girl wailed louder. "She’s mean! She’s crazy! Make her go away!"

The teacher looked at me. Then at the crying girls. Then back at me.

I could see the calculation happening behind her eyes. Two upset children versus one angry adult. The optics were not in my favor.

"Ma’am." Her voice was careful now. Distant. "Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private—"

"No." I cut her off. "No more private discussions. No more sweeping things under the rug."

I stepped forward. Met her eyes directly.

"When I enrolled my daughter here, I was told this school didn’t discriminate. That it was inclusive. That children weren’t judged by their parents’ backgrounds."

The teacher’s face tightened.

"Ms...."

"Moon. Aria Moon." I straightened my spine. Lifted my chin. "And if my daughter doesn’t receive a proper apology—from these girls AND their parents—I will make sure everyone in this territory knows exactly what kind of ’inclusive’ environment Silverpine Academy really provides."

Silence.

The courtyard had gone completely quiet. Every parent. Every teacher. Every child within earshot was watching us.

Let them watch.

"I’ll contact the newspapers," I continued. My voice carried across the space. Clear and strong. "I’ll file complaints with the education council. I’ll make so much noise that everyone will know. Everyone will see what happens here. What you allow to happen."

The teacher’s face went pale. "Fine." The teacher’s voice was clipped. Cold. "I’ll contact the parents."

"Thank you."

Minutes later, the teacher emerged from the building. She walked toward us with quick, efficient steps. Her expression was carefully neutral.

"Ms. Moon."

I stood. Kept one hand on Lina’s shoulder.

"The girls’ parents have been contacted." The teacher’s voice was professional. No warmth. No coldness. Just information. "They’ve agreed to meet with you to discuss the situation."