The Alpha's Chubby Obsession. novel Chapter 165

Side Story 16

Clara

Clair

ہو

Growing up, I remember being loved – or at least I think I was. Now, all that remains are scattered

fragments of those memories.

It feels like I both experienced love… and somehow never truly had it at all.

And worse, I was treated like something beneath a slave by the people I once believed were my

parents – only to learn they never truly were.

I was just the child they adopted to fill the emptiness left behind by their sickly daughter, the one who had spent her entire life bedridden in the hospital.

But the moment they learned that same daughter had recovered, I became useless to them.

And because they couldn’t simply throw me onto the streets without the pack asking questions, they turned me into Pamela’s personal servant instead.

On the outside, we looked like the perfect family. But behind closed doors, it was hell – a private

nightmare only I lived in.

All I can do now is hope that when I turn sixteen real soon and shift for the first time, the Moon

Goddess will grant me my mate. If that happens, I’ll leave this place and never look back.

Maybe then, just maybe, I’ll finally search for my real parents, the people who abandoned me like I

was nothing, who never once came back to find me.

I had just finished cleaning and looked around the house-everything was spotless-so Mrs. Sinclair

wouldn’t have anything to complain about when she got back. But suddenly, a loud scream echoed

from upstairs.

I sighed, already exhausted.

There she goes again.

Pamela. Always causing trouble for me.

Annoyed, I marched toward her room, but before I reached the door, I paused and took a breath, forcing myself to calm down. I fixed a polite smile on my face and bowed my head like always.

I knocked.

“Just come in,” she called.

I stepped inside. There she was, arms crossed, disgust written all over her face.

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Side Story 16

Clany

I knew why she hated me. Pamela, forever jealous. She despised the fact that people noticed me more than her, even when I wore the worst, most unfitting clothes. Somehow, I still stood out more

than she did.

She hated my hair, my eye color, my height. Even though she was older by a few months, I was

much taller.

She walked up to me, and I kept my head low.

“Look over there,” she said, pointing at a dress laid across her bed. “That’s the dress Il be wearing next week for my sixteenth birthday. So tell me, Clara… why is it ruined?”

How would I know? But I remained silent.

“Why did I find a small tear in it? You did it, didn’t you?” she accused, her voice rising. “You’re not going to speak, right? Fine. When Mommy gets home, I’ll tell her everything. You’ll be done for.”

I still said nothing.

It was all part of her usual drama-a way to make her mother scold me, maybe even hit me again, for something I had nothing to do with. But I was used to it by now. None of it hurt the way it used

I just had to endure it a little longer.

Once I turned sixteen, I would leave them all behind.

It wouldn’t be long now.

I just had to bear it.

Evening settled in as I stood in the kitchen preparing dinner. I heard the front door open, followed

by Pamela’s eager footsteps rushing downstairs to greet her mother. I kept my focus on the pot,

already knowing what was coming.

Right on cue, her voice floated into the kitchen.

“Mom, my birthday dress is ruined,” she whimpered. “I was only looking at it, and I must have pulled

it a little… it tore.”

Before I could even roll my eyes, Mrs. Sinclair responded sharply, without missing a beat.

“No, Pamela. Clara did it.”

I exhaled quietly. Of course. Anything that went wrong-anything at all-was automatically pinned on

1. Pamela could burn down the entire house and somehow it would still be my fault.

I heard footsteps approaching, firm and quick. Instinctively, I set everything down on the counter

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and bowed my head.

She stopped just a few feet away.

Clair

Then her palm struck my cheek-once, twice, again-each slap stinging hotter than the last until my skin burned. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, swallowing the urge to react, forcing myself to stay still.

“Why would you ruin my daughter’s dress?” she demanded.

I clenched my jaw, lowering my head even further so I wouldn’t lose control. I had no answer. Even if I spoke, it wouldn’t matter.

“Won’t you open your mouth and say something?” her voice snapped, sharp and impatient. I stayed completely silent.

“Raise your head and look at me,” she barked.

Slowly-very slowly-I lifted my chin. My gaze met hers. The moment our eyes locked, she gasped and stumbled back a step.

“W-why do you have that look on your face? Do you want to die?” she asked, but the fear in her eyes betrayed her. I had never seen her look at me that way before.

So I finally answered, my voice calm.

“What exactly do you want me to say, Mrs. Sinclair?”

She gasped again, stuttering. “Y-you… just do your duties, you witch!” she spat, spinning around and hurrying off, her legs visibly shaky.

I frowned. Normally she would have beaten me much longer, but this time she ran.

I turned to the side-and froze.

In the glass of the cabinet, my reflection stared back at me. That’s when I understood why she’d

been terrified.

My eyes… were pitch black. Not the usual blue. And faint veins traced up the sides of my face near

my eyes.

I looked like a monster.

I blinked hard, closed my eyes, then opened them again.

Back to normal. Blue. Calm.

Had I imagined it?

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