Chapter 1
633words
My grandmother used to make incredible lamb dishes. After she passed away, her secret recipe for lamb meatballs was handed down to my mother.
Her carefully balanced blend of spices could transform ordinary lamb into something magical, with an aroma so irresistible it would draw in even the most discriminating Alphas.
Mom brought this culinary talent with her when she married and moved to a small town in Oregon, where it gradually fell into disuse.
Until the year I started middle school, when Dad died unexpectedly in a logging accident.
Just like that, our family lost its only source of income. The compensation barely covered funeral expenses, and Mom's part-time dishwashing job could hardly keep us afloat.
I still remember those nights when Mom would sit at our kitchen table, staring at bills she couldn't pay. The Beta scent coming from her was heavy with despair.
That's when Mom finally pulled out Grandma's old recipe.
"Lily," she said, her voice stronger than I'd heard in weeks, "we're going to Boston."
The idea sounded absolutely insane. Two Beta women from nowhere Oregon, trying to make it in a city crawling with elite Alphas?
Those first few months in Boston damn near broke us.
Mom scraped together enough to rent a tiny food truck and tried her luck near different college campuses. Quality lamb wasn't cheap, and we sold so little that putting dinner on our own table became a struggle.
I'll never forget that brutal February night when our landlord pounded on the door demanding rent. Mom and I just huddled in the corner, looking at each other in silence.
"Maybe we should head back to Oregon," she whispered that night.
But the next morning, she woke up with an idea that changed everything.
She stopped selling whole lamb legs and switched to small, affordable lamb sliders instead.
The first Harvard kid who tried those sliders posted a TikTok with the caption: "This Beta lady just changed my life." Within hours, that post blew up—hundreds of likes, dozens of comments asking where to find us.
Mom figured out social media fast. She created an account called "Sarah's Secret Lamb," posting daily locations and building a following that exploded from dozens to thousands. Harvard students even created group chats just to track our food truck.
Word spread to MIT, BU, and Emerson. Before we knew it, Mom wasn't running just one food truck—she was managing a small fleet, strategically positioned across different campuses. The lines got longer, and the money got steadier.
Within two years, those food trucks evolved into a small reservation-only restaurant that was booked solid every single day.
The night before my fifteenth birthday, Mom showed me her bank account.
"Take a look, sweetie," she said.
I stared at the balance, blinking hard to make sure I wasn't seeing things. It was enough—enough for me to go back to school. Since leaving Oregon, I'd been out of school for two years because we couldn't afford it.
"Lily," Mom said with that familiar steel in her voice, "how would you feel about finishing at a prep school here in Boston?"
I looked at those numbers with a knot in my stomach. School in Boston? I'd never even dreamed of it. Just living here was expensive enough, and tuition at those fancy prep schools was in another universe.
"Mom, I want to," I said hesitantly, "but I don't want you killing yourself for this. Especially since... you know, I'm just a Beta."
Mom's voice hardened instantly: "Lily, you're my daughter. Your worth isn't determined by whether you're an Alpha or Beta."
"Don't worry about a thing. Business is good—really good."
Looking at that number in her account, I didn't hesitate anymore.
