The Rejected daughter chosen by the Alpha (Maya and Atila) novel Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

~ MAYA

“Serve it properly, Maya.”

My mother’s voice was ice—flat, sharp—like she wasn’t even talking to a person. Like I was furniture that moved when she snapped her fingers.

I didn’t answer. I just steadied the cups on the tray, careful not to let the tea spill over the thin porcelain.

Lavender tea. Honey. Butter cookies.

All of it too perfect for what this really was: my sisters circling the most arrogant Alpha in the pack like he was a prize, tearing at each other over who got to be seen.

We lived in a half-forgotten town in Northumberland, way up in the far north of England. The kind of place where the wind never stopped and the cold got into your bones like it was personal. Fog clung to the hills, old forests whispered stories no one admitted to believing, and the stone houses sat dark and quiet, cut off from the world.

Days moved slow there. Measured by church bells… and distant howls when night fell.

I set the tray on the table and lowered my head.

“Tea’s served.”

“Took you long enough,” Elizabeth said, not even bothering to look at me. “I swear, Maya, you move like you’re doing it on purpose. A snail could’ve done this faster.”

Heat flashed up my throat. I swallowed it down and forced my mouth into something that almost looked like a smile.

“Maybe it’s because I only have two hands,” I said lightly, “and not a maid sprinting behind me all day, sister.”

Her head snapped up.

“Don’t call me that.”

I blinked once. Slow.

“You know it doesn’t sound right.”

Yeah. I knew.

I was the Melrose family’s dirty little secret—the first daughter of an Alpha bloodline, born an omega.

The mistake no noble mother ever admitted to making.

To the outside world, I’d died at birth.

To stay alive, I became something else.

The girl who served. The girl who cleaned. The girl everyone looked straight through like I was air.

“Maya,” my mother said without lifting her eyes from her embroidery, “straighten your back. A hunched employee reflects poorly on this house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I murmured.

Employee.

That’s what she called me.

Not daughter. Not blood. Not family.

Just the help.

“I should be the one to go,” Freida announced, sitting up straighter like she’d been waiting for her cue. “Alpha Átila likes elegant women. Like me.”

“Elegant?” Elizabeth laughed, cruel and loud. “Is that what you’re calling that round little baby face of yours now, Freida?”

Freida’s cheeks flushed. Her eyes narrowed.

“Better round than fake,” she shot back, “like you.”

“Oh, please.” Margot cut in, voice smooth as silk, like she was already wearing a crown in her head. “Alpha Átila isn’t going to choose anyone in this house.”

She paused just long enough to make sure we were all listening.

“Except me, obviously.”

The room filled with overlapping voices—sharp, jealous, hungry—until my mother’s thread snapped.

The sound was tiny.

But the silence that followed was massive.

“Enough.” Her voice cracked through the room like a whip. “This is embarrassing. Alphas-in-training acting like bitches in heat.”

No one moved. No one breathed.

“Elizabeth will deliver this month’s tribute to Alpha Átila,” she said. “That’s final.”

Before anyone could argue, a quiet knock came at the door.

A woman stepped in with perfect posture and an expression that didn’t change for anyone.

Miss Langford.

Alpha Átila’s Beta. His right hand. The one people whispered about like she was a warning.

“Mrs. Melrose,” she said politely, “I came to inform you Alpha Átila is not currently home. He left for a hunt. This month’s tribute should be delivered to his residence and left there.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, like the floor had dropped out from under her.

“So… there won’t be a reception?” she asked.

“No,” Miss Langford replied. “No families will be received today.”

My mother’s jaw tightened.

Receptions were everything to my sisters. The only place they got to perform. To be seen. To sell themselves like a promise.

“If he’s not receiving anyone…” Elizabeth started, already trying to back out, “then I don’t really need to go.”

“Me neither,” Freida said fast. “I—um. I have a headache.”

Margot pressed a hand to her chest dramatically.

“Well, I could go,” she said, pretending to consider it, “but it would be awkward if he wasn’t there to greet his future wife.”

Miss Langford sighed, adjusted her glasses, and looked around the room like she was assessing a problem.

“Well,” she said calmly, “if none of the young Melrose ladies can—or want—to go… then one of the household employees can deliver the tribute.”

My mother didn’t respond.

Langford’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Unless,” she added smoothly, “Mrs. Melrose would prefer to go herself.”

My mother shut her embroidery hoop with a sharp click.

“No.” She didn’t even hesitate. “Maya will take it.”

My stomach dropped so hard it felt like it hit the floor.

Of course.

Of everyone in this house, it was always me—the one who was supposed to stay invisible—who got handed the tasks no one else wanted.

I swallowed, forcing my face blank.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Inside, I was already bracing for whatever kind of humiliation waited on the other side of Alpha Átila’s gates.

***

My mother returned from her office holding a golden chalice like it was sacred.

“Be careful with this, Maya,” she said. “It’s worth more than you understand.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Miss Langford gave a small nod toward the door.

“Shall we?”

As I turned to follow her, my mother called my name again.

“Maya.”

I stopped.

“Don’t take off your necklace. Not for anything.”

I frowned, confused.

“Why would I take it off?”

Her eyes sharpened. Then, strangely, softened.

“Just remember,” she said, quieter now, “it protects you from evil, my dear.”

I swallowed.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I never take it off anyway.”

I touched the crystal at my throat out of habit. It was cool against my skin, like it was asleep.

I followed Miss Langford outside.

Her car took us down the road and into the forest, where the trees grew thicker and the air got colder. Eventually she stopped, and we continued on foot.

Between two twisted trunks, she lifted a small amulet.

Blue light split the air like someone tore open the world.

My breath caught.

“What is that?” I whispered.

“The passage to Moonville,” she said. “Come.”

I hesitated for half a second—then stepped through.