Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 158

Elara’s POV

"That’ll be thirty-two gold and forty-seven copper, ma’am."

The woman’s face twisted like I’d personally insulted her bloodline. She slammed her coin purse onto the wooden counter hard enough to rattle the divider rod.

"Thirty-two gold? For this?"

She gestured at her groceries like they’d betrayed her. A few basic provisions. Nothing extravagant.

"I’ve been shopping here longer than you’ve been alive, girl." Her voice carried. Heads turned in the queue behind her. "I remember when you could feed a whole family on ten silver coins. This is robbery."

I kept my expression neutral. Pleasant, even. The smile sat on my face like a mask I’d been issued at the start of every shift.

"I understand, ma’am. Prices have gone up recently."

"Don’t patronize me."

"I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Would you like me to remove any items?"

She snatched her coin purse back and began counting out payment with aggressive precision, slapping each gold coin onto the counter like she was punishing it. I stood there. Waiting. Hands folded. Smile fixed.

This was my life now.

Eight hours a day. Six days a week. Standing behind a register in a glow-stone-lit grocery store that smelled like alchemical floor polish and overripe bananas, scanning items and absorbing the frustrations of strangers who treated me like I was the reason everything cost too much.

The pay barely covered rent. Whatever was left went to noodles.

The woman finally finished counting. She shoved the coins across the counter without looking at me, gathered her bags, and marched off. No thank you. No goodbye.

I exhaled.

"Wow. She was a delight."

The voice bounced over from register two like a rubber ball. I turned to find Mia leaning across her counter, chin propped on both fists, cotton-candy pink hair spilling over her shoulders in messy waves. She was grinning. Mia was always grinning.

"You should’ve told her the cheese was haunted," Mia said. "That’s what I do when they get mean. I just say something so weird they forget to be angry."

"I don’t think that works on everyone."

"It works on most people. Hey—" She pointed at the next customer approaching her register. A man. Tall. Exhausted-looking. He had a toddler balanced on one hip, a slightly older child clinging to his coat, and a third one trailing behind with a box of cereal clutched to her chest like a shield. "Watch this."

"Sir! Welcome." Mia beamed at him like he was the best thing that had happened to her all day. "Great haul. Love the selection. But I have to warn you—" She leaned in conspiratorially, eyes darting to the box of rainbow marshmallow cereal the smallest child was holding. "Aisle seven’s marshmallow cereal? Amazing flavor. But it turns your poop weird colors. Just so you’re prepared."

The man blinked. Then he laughed. Actually laughed, for the first time in what looked like a very long while. The toddler on his hip giggled without understanding why, and the older child tugged his coat and whispered, "Is that true?"

"One hundred percent true," Mia said solemnly. "I speak from personal experience."

I turned back to my register before anyone caught me almost smiling.

The line crawled. Customer after customer. Scan, bag, total, smile. Repeat. My feet ached inside the thin-soled shoes I’d bought secondhand. The glow-stones hummed above me with a faint, persistent whine that had wormed its way into the center of my skull sometime around noon and refused to leave.

My pocket buzzed.

I slipped my hand in during a gap between customers. A transmission scroll, glowing faintly. I unrolled it.

Your carriage warranty is expiring! Contact Harmon & Sons today for an exclusive—

I crushed it in my fist and dropped it in the waste bin beneath the counter.

"Was that a message?" Mia materialized beside me like she’d been launched from a catapult. She was supposed to be at register two. "Was it a guy?"

"It was junk."

"Ugh. Tragic." She hopped up to sit on the edge of my counter, legs swinging. "You know what you need, Ela? A guy who actually sends you a transmission on purpose."

"I don’t need a guy."

"Everyone needs a guy. Or a girl. Or a somebody. You’re too pretty to be this sad all the time."

"I’m not sad."

Mia tilted her head. The pink hair slid across her shoulder. Her eyes—sharp and bright under all that bubbly energy—studied me with more perception than I was comfortable with.

"So there was someone," she said.

"Mia—"

"It’s fine! You don’t have to tell me. I can read between the lines. Bad breakup?"

I hesitated a beat too long.

"Something like that."

"How bad? Like, crying-into-sweet-cream bad, or burning-his-stuff-in-the-yard bad?"

Neither. Like fleeing-across-the-country-while-pregnant bad. Like being-betrayed-by-your-fiancé-and-disowned-by-your-family bad.

"Complicated," I said.

"Complicated is just code for ’he was trash and I’m still recovering.’ I get it, honey." She patted my arm. "But you can’t let one rotten apple spoil the whole... orchard. Barrel? What’s the saying?"

"MIA!" A voice barked from somewhere near the stockroom. Gary, the manager. Built like a stump and roughly as charming. "Get back to your register!"

Mia rolled her eyes but hopped down. She sauntered back toward register two, calling over her shoulder, "We’re not done discussing this!"

We were absolutely done discussing this.

But we weren’t.

Because a short while later, during a brief lull, she was back. Leaning against my counter again. This time with a bag of candied berries she’d opened from the front shelf and was eating without paying for.

"So here’s the thing," she said, chewing thoughtfully. "I used to be you. Post-breakup, all mopey, convinced I’d never trust again. Then I developed a system."

"A system."

"Mondays—that’s Jack. Super chill. We get coffee, maybe take a walk. Low-key. Tuesdays are for Derek. Wednesday is Felix. He’s an artist. Very intense. Thursdays and Fridays are open audition nights. And Sunday—" She held up a candied berry like a toast. "Sunday is self-care. Face mask. Bath salts. No men allowed."

I stared at her. "What about Saturday?"

"Saturday was another Derek, but the Saturday Derek moved to the Portland territory. So now it’s open." She popped the candied berry into her mouth. "See? It’s all about structure. Keeps things light. No one gets too attached, no one gets hurt."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It sounds efficient."

I didn’t have the energy to argue. I just shook my head and turned to greet the next customer.

The afternoon dragged. My shoulders ached. My lower back had developed a dull, persistent throb that pulsed in time with the glow-stone lights. I kept glancing at the clockwork dial above the exit doors. Each time, barely any time had passed since the last look.

At three-thirty, Mia appeared at my elbow again. But this time the bubbly energy had been replaced by something more urgent. Something almost pleading.

"Ela. I need a favor."

"No."

"You don’t even know what it is yet!"

"You want me to cover the rest of your shift."

She clutched her chest. "You’re psychic."

"What is it this time?"

"Okay, so Tuesday Derek just moved our dinner to four-thirty. But I don’t get off until six. And this is really important to me, Ela."

"Mia, I covered for you yesterday. Three hours. You told Gary it was a dentist appointment."

"And my teeth have never felt better! Metaphorically." She pressed her palms together. Prayer position. Her pink hair fell forward. "Please. I will owe you forever. I will bring you coffee every morning for a week. The good kind. From the place across the street."

I looked at her. Twenty-two years old. Not a care in the world beyond which Derek was available on which night. The kind of person who could organize her love life into a weekly calendar and never once have to worry about the things that kept me up at night.

I envied her. Not the dating. The lightness.

"Fine," I said.

Mia shrieked. Actually shrieked, loud enough that Gary’s head snapped up from behind the stockroom door. She lunged across the counter and threw her arms around me, nearly dragging me off my feet—and her hip caught the edge of the travel-size hand sanitizing elixirs display beside my register, sending the whole tower wobbling dangerously, bottles clattering against each other like loose teeth.