A Broken Alpha Heiress' Revenge (Riley) novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Third Person’s POV

The atmosphere in the dining hall dropped to freezing.

Everyone’s movements halted as though suspended mid–breath.

Alpha Alaric’s brows drew together, but he said nothing.

Zara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, clearly caught off guard.

Kael, however, slammed his utensils down with a sharp clang, making a nearby servant flinch.

“What is the meaning of this?” he barked.

The servant, pale and trembling, bowed her head. “Master Kael, the household has only ever prepared four portions… I didn’t realize-”

“Didn’t realize what?” Kael’s voice was a low growl. “That my sister is back under this roof? Or did you know, and decide she didn’t deserve to eat?”

The woman opened her mouth, but Kael cut her off.

“You’re dismissed.”

Terror flickered in her eyes. She turned instinctively to Scarlett, silently pleading. But Scarlett merely kept her head down, expression unreadable.

Alaric cleared his throat. “Mia, prepare another plate.”

Mia gave a relieved nod and hurried to the kitchen.

Scarlett, always quick to seize an opportunity, pushed her plate toward Riley. “Here, sister. You can have mine.”

Riley didn’t look at her. She didn’t say a word.

But she also didn’t refuse.

She picked up a fork and began to eat with calm, measured movements, as if nothing had happened.

Scarlett stared at her, clearly expecting something. A nod. A word. Gratitude.

Riley gave her nothing.

The silence stretched. Scarlett’s hopeful expression withered into a pout.

Alaric rapped his knuckles against the table. “Riley.”

Still eating.

He cleared his throat pointedly. “Riley.”

Zara stepped in, gentle but firm. “Riley, your sister gave you her food. Shouldn’t you say thank you?”

Riley finally set her fork down.

She looked up, sweeping her gaze across the table, her eyes sharp as shattered glass.

“Thank her?” Her voice was calm–dangerously so. “Should I thank her for stealing my life? For framing me? For five years in

a cell?”

A crackling silence followed.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice now a blade. “You all want gratitude over a plate of breakfast? For three years I wasn’t given one. I ate your scraps–if anything was left. I came home to insults. And not once, not once, did any of you offer me

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thanks or apology.”

“You demand more of me than you’ve ever demanded of yourselves.”

Zara looked hurt. “But that’s all in the past. Can’t you just–let it go?”

“The past lives in my body,” Riley said. “It lives in my limp, in my car that barely hears, in every scar. You don’t get to tell me when to forget.”

Zara clutched at her chest, as if Riley’s words had physically struck her.

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