My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas

I must have been around eight when my mother decided I was worthless.

She was never exactly loving before that — but she tolerated my existence.

I was expected to be useful. Something she could display. A valuable pawn.

After all, she had sacrificed her body to bring me into this world. And her time.

That was the monologue she opened every morning with.

Until I turned eight.

Presenting that early was rare — even in a world where second genders had only appeared a few generations ago.

Too early, they said.

I agree.

It was too young to die in your mother’s eyes.

And yet —

I was abandoned.