Lily lounged imperial in her spa room, steam-hazed air thick with lavender and eucalyptus—every inch the actress and hidden alpha demanding her due, porcelain skin glowing under soft recessed lights as she cradled a crystal goblet of chilled rosé.
Two betas knelt at her hands, files whispering over her oval nails with reverent precision; another pair mirrored them at her feet, toes splaying delicate under their buffing pads.
A final duo painted glossy crimson polish stroke by flawless stroke across fingers and toes alike, while a burly alpha masseuse kneaded her scalp deep—fingers burrowing through her silken orange waves, drawing a rare purr from her throat.
On the wall-mounted screen, her latest blockbuster flickered, her own flawless face smirking back in high-def glory.
"I am the best actress of my generation, aren't I?"
The servants nodded their heads in agreement.
