TRAPPED BY THE FEMALE ALPHA

Chapter 1

Violeta's POV

Of all the endless possibilities in my head, walking in on my boyfriend with my sister wasn't one of them. It was a low blow—a betrayal I couldn't shake no matter how many new places, new jobs, or new lives I tried to bury it under.

Today was supposed to be the fresh start. First day at the new job, a clean slate. But the universe apparently had other plans because here I was, dashing through traffic, hopping into a cab, then out of it, and finally stumbling into the office building, out of breath and out of patience.

Then I felt it. Something was… off. People stopped in their tracks, staring at me. With pity, like I was some tragic heroine. I heard a whisper: "She's human."

Human? Really? Bravo, Sherlock. The last I checked, we're all unfortunately human. I rolled my eyes, pretending I hadn't just overheard them. With a scoff, I marched to the elevator, shaking off the weird feeling gnawing at me.

I rode up, my heart pounding—not just from the sprint through the city but with the thrill of starting fresh, building something new. I reached my floor, settled at my desk, dropped my bag, and started sorting the files for the day. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and headed for the CEO's office.

And there it was. The image that would burn itself into my retinas forever.

I was expecting a man sitting at that desk, maybe buried in papers, giving off that too-busy-for-you vibe. What I found? A woman with a… well, a dildo strapped to her waist, going to town on my bent-over boss, his face pressed into the table, like it was her desk.

Files fell from my hands as my mouth dropped open. My brain went blank. "I—uh—oh my God. Sorry! I'm sorry!" I stammered, half-praying for a divine intervention to just vaporize me then and there.

Instead, my body moved on autopilot, flying out of the office. I must have hid in the bathroom for at least an hour, doing some deep breathing to calm the complete mortification that had settled over me. But eventually, I had to face the music—or rather, face them—again.

When I finally emerged, I found her, Miss Dildo Domination herself, sitting on my desk, legs crossed, going through my phone like she was the boss of me.

Oh, that was it. I saw red.

I stalked over, snatched my phone right out of her hands, and glared, all my pent-up fury bubbling to the surface. "Look, you might have had a dildo up my boss's ass," I snapped, "but that does not give you the right to be going through my phone like you own the place."

Her lips curled into a grin, the kind that screamed trouble. "Too bad, Violeta." Her eyes gleamed as she leaned in, watching as my confusion turned to horror. "I am the boss."

"Oh, poor thing!" she said with a laugh, her eyes twinkling like she was savoring the shock still plastered on my face. "Regina always goes for it. She lives for that moment—the look of horror when they realize I'm not what they expected."

I let out a laugh too, though it was really just a nervous, strangled sound that escaped against my will. My finger wobbled as I pointed back at the office, trying to string a coherent thought together. "But… the names... your name on the office door… it's..."

She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh, the names? Yes, they sound like male names, don't they? My father wanted a son so badly he gave me masculine names. A boy to carry on the legacy, take over as king someday. But instead, here I am, female alpha and all." She stood up, brushing off her suit, then reached out to pat my shoulder, and I blinked at her in total disbelief. Royalty? She was actual royalty?

"You're really beautiful, Violeta," she said, a mischievous smile flickering on her lips as she looked me over. "Really beautiful."

With that, she disappeared into her office, leaving me standing there, mouth hanging open.

I stared after her, brain stuck on a loop of panic. Was she… was she going to pull a Ms Dildo Domination on me too? Some bizarre initiation ritual for the new girl? The thought alone made my cheeks go red, and I could feel my stomach twist with dread and something else, anticipation? Great, my first day, and I was already terrified of my boss's idea of team bonding.

I shook my head, muttering under my breath, "Maybe a little less 'beautiful' would've saved me from this hell." But there was no turning back now—I'd signed up for this fresh start, and, well, if this was what it took…

I settled into the chair, glancing around the quiet office, then sighed as I began sifting through the mountain of files stacked on my desk. Hours passed in silence, with only the scratching of my pen and the rustling of papers. My back ached, and my eyes felt heavy, but I pushed through, sorting one file after another.

Finally, I reached the last file. Relief washed over me as I flipped it open ready to wrap up my day, when an unexpected shiver ran down my spine, chilling me to the core. I blinked, staring down at what lay inside.

It wasn't work. It wasn't even close. It was a file on me. But not the kind you'd expect for an employee. No, this one was…personal.

The first thing I saw was a photo of me—barely five years old, grinning wide as I held a popsicle in my chubby hands. I froze, staring at the image. How...?

My fingers trembled as I turned the page. More photos—some from school, others from the streets, moments I didn't even remember. A chill crept up my spine as I skimmed the accompanying notes, the handwriting neat and clinical: Age 10: Won a local art competition. Age 14: Hospitalized for three weeks—broken leg.

Page after page was filled with images of my life, an eerie, obsessive collection. Detailed notes about my childhood, my teenage years, and the messy twists of adulthood covered every page. This wasn't just a file—it was a violation. A cruel, twisted reminder that someone had been watching.

I flipped faster, my heart pounding. Who the hell keeps something like this?

Then I saw it: a sticky note, slapped across the last page. Bold, black letters scrawled in a rush:

"Leave while you still can. Everything is not as it seems here."

I stared at the note, my blood running cold. This wasn't just creepy. This was a warning.

What the hell is this? Is someone trying to help me? Or is this some sick game? My heart raced, pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. A cold sweat prickled at the back of my neck, and suddenly, the once-quiet office felt like a trap.

Before I could process anything further, the faint creak of a door opening made me snap my head up. Dildo lady—peeked out from her office, her gaze landing on me with a calculating look that sent a fresh wave of dread through me.

"Be ready to leave with me tonight. We have unfinished business."