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Fifteen

Vivian

Everything has to be perfect. Walking around the table in the garden, I twitch napkins into place, and check with the housekeeper that tea will be ready in time. Walking to the kitchen next to speak to the chef about any allergies the alphas have reported, I then head upstairs to check on my daughter.

I hope she’s dressed and isn’t being surly. Although, in the three months that she’s been home, Nina has been very well behaved. She’s done all of her exercises to regain muscle tone and strength in her body, attended voice lessons to keep from any further destruction of her vocal cords, and gone to every etiquette class.

I would feel guilty that her vocal cords have suffered the way they have, but it’s her fault that she screamed so much in treatment. She should have done as the doctors wanted without kicking up a fuss. Honestly, no one wants to deal with such a theatrical patient. She obviously needed a very firm hand in order to gain the results I’m seeing. Weeping Willow is a miracle worker, and I’ll recommend it to everyone.

It’s also Nina’s fault that she could barely walk when she left the facility and had difficulty with balance. She was an absolute wreck with terrible posture and torn cuticles. My daughter didn’t even try to keep up with her appearance.

Lazy child.

Huffing in annoyance as I hurry up the stairs, I force myself to take a deep breath and slow my steps as I get closer to her room. There’s no use getting myself all worked up. I need to maintain my own calm countenance to ensure Nina emulates it.

No feathers will be ruffled. It’s an important day since she’ll be meeting the first round of packs who want her. It hasn’t been easy holding them off while she was at Weeping Willow and then bouncing back from treatment, but they no longer have to wait.

Thank goodness, because their patience is close to snapping. I’ve been playing a dangerous game, but how was I supposed to know that Nina would be out of commission for eleven months after she entered Weeping Willow to when she’d be ready for visitors.

I blame her for being so weak. I would never have had so many issues with my mother. Just suck it up and do as you’re told.

Striding through the doorway since I had it removed the day before her return, I look around the room. Nina is getting the bare minimum from me until she’s packed up. All of her needs are taken care of, her nails are back to normal, and her skin is no longer so dry from the terrible soap they had at the institution.

She tried to tell me it’s from the chlorine in the pool where she had to tread water for hours, and I told her not to lie to me. That’s clearly not therapy, and if it were true, she’d have more defined arms and legs than she does.

If she didn’t need her tongue to speak to her alphas, I’d have it removed. I don’t really understand the need to speak to your omega. I sit pretty for Martin and allow him to do whatever he wants. None of it needs my words or consent.

To me, it’s worth being safe in this house. I have just enough freedom, I don’t need anything else.

The room is empty.Hmm.

“Nina?” I call out, attempting to hide how nervous I am. Things have to go well. They just do.

“I’m here,” she says, stepping out of the closet as she slides the post of her earring in. “I dropped it and had to feel around to find it. I don’t think I wrinkled anything though.”

“Turn around slowly so I can see. I’ll grab the steamer if needed,” I say sharply.

Nina nods calmly, doing as I say. I trained her out of flinching whenever someone’s tone changed. I won’t have the packs thinking that she’s been abused. She can be twisted in knots on the inside, no one should ever know.

Smart omegas live longer when they hide their emotions and only show the ones that allow them to get what they want. I can cry on command, make someone believe I’m in love with them, or turn it all off to make someone believe I’m a cold hearted bitch.

My eyes move over my daughter, taking her in. She’s wearing a navy two piece skirt set of the softest fabric possible. Not only does it appear rich and beautiful, but it’ll help her sit still because it won’t itch. I’m not a complete monster. I know the sensitivities that omegas go through.

She took so long to present, I decided she had to be a beta, but I wasn’t upset the way she thinks I was. I was relieved. There are many dangers for omegas, and the responsibilities are endless. Now, I’m merely trying to set her up for the best life possible.

Who cares if it also happens to benefit me? I think I should be admired for everything I’ve done for my daughter.

My eyes move to her feet as Nina has her back to me, where I can see the barest hint of her open toed heels. I know she dislikes them, but she’ll be sitting most of the time. She’s spent countless hours practicing how to walk in them.

You’d think that it would be like riding a bike, but it’s not. I’d rather not think about how terrible her first experience back in heels was after being barefoot at Weeping Willow for eight months. I really thought she was going to break her neck clomping down the stairs.

Repressing a shudder, I say, “Turn again.”

I’m so glad I broke her of the habit of twirling when I asked her to turn around. How on earth am I supposed to scrutinize all the details to ensure she’s perfect?

Nina turns the rest of the way around, and I gaze at the way her neckline has just a hint of cleavage to give the packs something to look at before moving to her face. The guilt is always worse when I look at it.

Her hair isn’t growing back very well. It’s white peach fuzz, which isn’t very womanly. Instead, she’s wearing a bleach white blonde wig that’s the same color as her natural hair. It flows in pretty waves around her body down to her waist. I bought one made of real hair, and you can’t tell this doesn’t belong to her.