The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 42

Freya's POV

I stood in the hallway, humiliation burning through me as I watched Thorne's retreating back. The Alpha's dismissal still rang in my ears: "If you can't do something properly, don't do it at all. Get out of my sight."

I waited until Thorne disappeared around the corner before allowing my shoulders to slump. My hands stung from the chemical burns, my back ached from hours bent over the marble floor, and hunger gnawed at my insides like a trapped animal.

The kitchen was my only hope. I made my way there, moving as quietly as my exhausted body would allow. The scent of breakfast lingered in the air—bacon, eggs, freshly baked bread—making my mouth water and my wolf whine with need.

The kitchen staff had already finished their own breakfast. Plates were stacked by the sink, and the cooking surfaces had been wiped clean. My eyes darted around desperately until I spotted a few slices of hard bread and a small pot of cold porridge pushed to the side, presumably leftovers headed for the trash.

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed the bread and shoved a piece into my mouth, then scooped the cold porridge with my fingers, not bothering to look for a spoon. The food was bland and congealed, but at that moment, it tasted better than any fine meal I'd had in my previous life.

"Well, well. Look at this."

I froze, a spoonful of porridge halfway to my mouth. Edith stood in the doorway, her thin lips curled into a smirk that didn't reach her cold eyes.

"Not only can you not pour a simple cup of coffee correctly, but now you're stealing food from the kitchen?" Her voice dripped with disdain.

I swallowed what was in my mouth, fighting the urge to growl. "I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Did I say you could help yourself to the staff's food?" She approached, her steps measured and deliberate. "You'll eat when I say you can eat, and not before."

My wolf bristled at the display of dominance from a Beta, but I kept my eyes lowered. I couldn't afford to antagonize the head of household staff, not when my position here was already so precarious.

Edith reached behind her and produced a white shirt—Thorne's shirt, with an angry brown stain spreading across the sleeve where I'd spilled coffee earlier.

"This is Alpha Thorne's favorite shirt. Imported Egyptian cotton, hand-tailored in Italy." She tossed it at me, and I caught it reflexively. "Get that stain out. Not a trace, you understand? And if you damage it in any way..." She let the threat hang in the air.

"I understand," I said quietly, examining the stain. Coffee was notoriously difficult to remove completely, especially from white fabric.

"When you've finished with that, there will be other tasks waiting. Perhaps if you complete them all satisfactorily, you might earn dinner tonight." Her smile widened. "Though I doubt you're capable of satisfactory work."

She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and clean up that mess you've made. This kitchen is for staff, not scavengers."

---

I spent the morning hunched over a basin in the laundry room, carefully treating the coffee stain on Thorne's shirt. My hands trembled from fatigue and hunger, making the delicate work even more challenging. I'd found a box of baking soda and mixed it with water to create a paste, gently working it into the fabric with my fingertips.

The shirt itself smelled of him—that distinctive blend of mint, metal, and Alpha musk that made my wolf stir restlessly. I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the methodical work of removing the stain.

By the time the lunch bell rang, my stomach was cramping painfully. I hung the shirt to dry—the stain significantly faded but not completely gone—and made my way toward the staff dining room, hoping I might be allowed to join the others.

Edith intercepted me at the door.

"Not so fast," she said, blocking my path. "Alpha Thorne's shoes need polishing. All of them. The shoe polish and brushes are in the utility closet near his dressing room."

"But lunch—"

"Can wait until you've finished your assigned tasks." Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Unless you believe you deserve special treatment?"

I bit back a retort. "No. I'll get to it right away."

"Good. Perhaps you'll work more efficiently on an empty stomach."

The smell of roast chicken and vegetables wafted from the dining room as I turned away, my mouth watering painfully. My wolf growled, urging me to challenge this Beta who dared deny us food, but I pushed the impulse down. I needed this job, needed to stay at Grey Estate where I might eventually find information about my family.

I found the utility closet and gathered the shoe polish and brushes, then made my way to Thorne's dressing room. It felt invasive to enter his private space, but I had no choice. The dressing room was larger than my entire apartment at Shadow District, with rows of tailored suits, shirts, and casual wear organized by color and occasion. Along one wall stood a rack of shoes—at least twenty pairs, from formal oxfords to casual loafers.

I settled on the floor and began polishing, one pair after another. Each shoe was already immaculate, barely worn, but I buffed them to a mirror shine anyway. The repetitive motion allowed my mind to wander, remembering a time when I had staff who polished my shoes, when my family name meant something.

By the time I finished, my back was screaming in protest and my hunger had transformed from a sharp pain to a dull, persistent ache. I returned to the kitchen, hoping to find something—anything—to eat.

The lunch service was long over. I found a few scraps of cold meat and half a bowl of soup that had congealed, its surface covered with a thin film. I ate it anyway, too hungry to care about the taste or temperature.

"There you are." Edith's voice made me jump. "The files in the basement storage room need organizing. Alpha Thorne needs to reference the Carson property documents, and no one can find them in that mess."

I swallowed the last spoonful of cold soup. "Now?"

"Unless you have something more important to do?" Her eyebrow arched in challenge.

I set down the empty bowl. "No. I'll go right away."

The basement was cold and damp, lined with metal shelving units sagging under the weight of countless file boxes. Dust coated everything, making me sneeze repeatedly as I sorted through decades of property records, contracts, and legal documents. The work was tedious and seemingly endless, with no natural light to mark the passage of time.

When I finally emerged, sneezing and covered in dust, the grandfather clock in the hall showed it was nearly six in the evening. My stomach cramped painfully, reminding me I'd barely eaten all day. I headed toward the kitchen, hoping the dinner preparations might yield some scraps I could claim.

Edith appeared in my path again, as if she'd been waiting. "The guest bedrooms on the east wing need to be prepared. We're expecting Alpha Thorne's business associates tomorrow."

I couldn't stop the flash of frustration this time. "I haven't had a proper meal all day."

"That's hardly my concern. Perhaps if you'd completed your earlier tasks more efficiently, you would have had time to eat." Her smile was cold. "The guest rooms, please. Now."