Torn between the Alpha and the CEO

Chapter 1: 

The Omega in the Shadows.

Rhea's POV

"You missed a spot, Rhea."

I froze, my fingers tightening around the wooden brush. Slowly, I lifted my head to meet Mira's glare. She was the head maid of the Alpha's mansion, and my personal tormentor.

"I've scrubbed it three times already," I muttered under my breath, my knees aching from the cold marble floor. "It's not coming off-"

"Then keep scrubbing until it does," Mira snapped, crossing her arms.

I bit the inside of my cheek and lowered my gaze, dragging the stiff bristles over the stubborn stain again and again. 

I had been on this post for thirty minutes, and the mark was still there, mocking me. I knew exactly which cleaning solution would erase it in seconds... but Mira wouldn't let me fetch it. She'd rather watch me suffer.

"You're good for nothing," she hissed. "Born in the dirt, and you'll die in the dirt. This is where you belong."

A lump rose in my throat, and I blinked hard to push back the tears. I was supposed to be used to this by now. It's been years of it. But somehow, the words still stung like the first time.

Being an Omega meant being nothing in this pack. But me? I was treated worse than nothing.

Without warning, Mira stepped forward and pressed her heel down hard on my free hand. Pain jolted up my arm, and I gasped, causing the brush to slip from my fingers.

"What are you doing? You're hurting me!" I cried, trying to yank my hand back.

"Shut up!" she barked, pressing down harder until my knuckles felt like they might shatter. "Why can't you do a simple task right?"

I gritted my teeth against the pain, the humiliation burning hotter than the ache in my fingers.

 Somewhere down the hall, I heard the echo of laughter and music, preparations for the celebration were in full swing. A celebration I would never be part of.

Mira leaned down, her face inches from mine. "You'd better have that stain gone before the Alpha's guests arrive, or I'll make you wish you'd never been rescued."

"It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?" Mira said, pressing down harder on my hand.

The pressure made fresh pain shoot up my arm. Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Mira's fingers suddenly gripped my chin, forcing my face up to hers.

 "It's also Lady Lyra's birthday. You were born on the same day as her, yet you're not even half of what she is."

She let go with a sharp flick of her hand, as though touching me had dirtied her.

Why was everyone like this? It wasn't as if I wanted to be Lyra, or anything close to her. I didn't envy her or anything. Lyra was the sun, her light filling every room she walked into. 

And me? I was the shadow on the floor she walked over, brush in my hand, knees aching. She was adorned in silk and jewels, while I was hidden away in rags.

That was just the way my life was. I had accepted it a long time ago. But acceptance didn't make it less pathetic.

Some mornings, when I woke, I wished I hadn't.

I glanced down at my trapped hand, blood now smeared across my knuckles from where her heel had dug in. I was certain my bones were moments away from snapping.