Chapter 8
Cassandra's POV
A buzzing sound filled my head, and my mind went blank in an instant.
Serena's words sounded like she was helping me out of an awkward situation, but in reality, she was announcing to the entire Alexander family, to every vampire present: Cassandra is not the mistress of this house—she is merely a humble, expendable "blood bag."
"Well said, dear Serena." Aunt Eleanor laughed, her gaze resting on Serena with approval. "You've adapted so quickly. Indeed, only those with Alexander blood flowing through their veins are worthy of such elegance. Unlike certain people who, even dressed in velvet, cannot hide the lowliness in their bones."
The mocking laughter around me grew louder. Those cold, malicious stares felt like tangible knives, cutting into my self-respect one slice at a time.
I tried to pull my arm free from Serena's grip, but her strength was astonishing—her icy fingers clamped down like iron shackles, holding me in place. She turned her head to look at me, her gray eyes gleaming with triumph and malice, though her lips still wore that innocent smile.
"Sister, why do you look so pale? Are you ill? Human bodies are so fragile," she whispered, enunciating each word with deliberate cruelty in a voice only the two of us could hear.
I ignored her and instead lifted my head sharply, directing my gaze toward the head of the long table.
Alexander sat there, like a dark emperor on his throne, holding a crystal goblet filled with blood, his ice-blue eyes deep and unfathomable.
He had heard everything. Vampire hearing could detect a heartbeat from hundreds of meters away—there was no possibility he hadn't heard Eleanor's insults, nor could he have missed the veiled mockery in Serena's words.
I was his wife. Standing here, I represented his dignity, his honor.
Alexander, please, say something. I prayed desperately in my mind, my eyes locked on him. Just one word. Just acknowledge that I am your wife...
Alexander's gaze swept across the crowd and met mine through the distance.
In that moment, time seemed to freeze.
But in those cold eyes of his, I saw no anger, no defense, not even the slightest flicker of emotion. He simply looked at me with indifference, as if I were an insignificant ornament. Then he looked away, raised his crystal goblet with elegant grace, and took a sip of blood, his Adam's apple moving slightly as he swallowed.
"Take your seats," his low, emotionless voice echoed through the hall.
Those three words shattered my last shred of hope.
He wasn't going to speak up for me. He had tacitly approved their humiliation of me, allowed Serena to trample me underfoot, and confirmed the fact that in this family, I was nothing more than a "walking blood bag."
The crowd dispersed, each moving toward the dining table. Serena finally released me, her high heels clicking triumphantly as she walked toward the seat that should have been mine—the place at Alexander's right hand—and sat down under Aunt Eleanor's approving gaze.
I stood there alone, like a puppet whose soul had been drained. Around me were elegantly dressed monsters, clinking glasses and mingling, while I remained the most out-of-place joke in this manor.
Cold. A cold that seeped from my very marrow.
I don't know how I made it to the seat at the far end of the long table, the most remote and insignificant position. A maid placed a plate of exquisite French foie gras in front of me, but I only felt nauseous.
"To the night, and to our newly turned kin, Serena." Alexander raised his glass, announcing the start of the banquet.
"To Serena!" Dozens of vampires raised their glasses in unison.
The crimson liquid swayed in the crystal glasses under the chandelier's light, stinging my eyes. I didn't raise my glass. I kept my head down, staring at the human food before me, blinking furiously to force back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
In this dining hall full of monsters, I didn't even have the right to cry. Because if they smelled the salty scent of tears, they would only find it a laughable, pathetic seasoning.
I was utterly alone. And the one who had pushed me into this abyss was my husband in name only.
The banquet finally ended.
When Alexander left the table with Serena to discuss matters with several elder vampires, I fled like a deserter, not looking back as I escaped that suffocating hall of decadence.
Back in my room, I locked the door and stripped down to nothing but a black lace lingerie set. I threw the deep green velvet gown onto the carpet like discarded trash. It reeked of the cold, decaying scent of those vampires, along with endless humiliation.
I walked into the spacious bathroom.
Everything here was crafted from expensive black marble—cold and hard, just like the master of this manor. I turned on the shower, adjusting the water temperature to the highest setting, letting the scalding water fill the bathtub. The entire bathroom quickly filled with white steam.
I walked to the wide vanity, bracing my hands against the cold marble edge, staring at the pale, hollow-eyed woman in the mirror.
I didn't even have the strength left to cry.
Bang!
Suddenly, the bathroom door was kicked open with tremendous force. The heavy frosted glass door slammed violently against the wall with a heart-stopping crash.
I whipped my head around.
Alexander stood in the doorway. He had already removed his dinner jacket and was wearing only a black shirt, his tie loosened and hanging askew, the top three buttons undone to reveal a large expanse of pale, muscular chest.
His eyes were no longer that cold, restrained blue—they were churning with violent, lava-like crimson. He stared at me, his chest heaving with violent breaths, like a beast completely consumed by rage.
"What are you doing here?" I instinctively took a step back, my lower back pressing against the cold marble vanity. "Are you finished with the elders' meeting?"
"Why?" He didn't answer my question but instead strode into the bathroom, locking the door behind him with a sharp click.
He closed in on me, his towering frame creating a suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe.
"Why what?" I bit my lip, trying to maintain the last shred of composure I had left.
"At the banquet, you sat there like a rotting corpse!" He suddenly reached out and grabbed my chin, forcing me to lift my head and meet those crimson eyes. "Sitting there, not saying a word, not even lifting your head! Do you think sitting at the same table as me is beneath you?"
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Beneath me? Alexander, should I have stood up and smiled while thanking your aunt for calling me 'livestock raised in captivity'?" I finally couldn't hold back and raised my voice, anger and grievance exploding in my chest. "Should I have wagged my tail and fawned over those monsters who would love nothing more than to drain me dry, just like Serena did?!"
"You could have asked me." His fingers tightened, his voice low and guttural, as if he were chewing on shards of glass. "If you had just looked at me, if you had asked for my help, I could have made Eleanor shut her mouth. But you didn't. You would rather sit there like a corpse with your head down than look at me once!"
"Ask you? Would you have helped me?" I laughed bitterly, tears finally spilling from my eyes. "Alexander, stop lying to yourself! You don't care whether I live or die—you just can't stand that I didn't beg you like a tail-wagging dog!"
That sentence ignited the powder keg completely.
