Chapter 7
1135 Words
The private elementary school was nestled among manicured gardens, its redbrick buildings exuding quiet privilege. I strode through the corridors, my heels clicking against polished floors until I reached the principal's office.
Principal Reynolds stood as I entered, extending her hand. "Ms. Santos, thank you for coming on such short notice."
"What happened?" I asked, bypassing pleasantries.
The principal gestured toward a small adjacent room where Betty sat, her small legs swinging as she colored with intense concentration. Even from this distance, I could see the frown of determination on my daughter's face—an expression so familiar it sometimes took my breath away.
Betty looked up, her piercing blue eyes—*his* eyes—lighting up as she spotted me. "Mommy!"
My expression softened instantly. "Hey, sweetheart." I knelt down, opening my arms as Betty bounded toward me.
"I didn't do anything wrong," Betty declared, her black curls bouncing as she shook her head emphatically. "Tommy said werewolves aren't real, and I said they are, and then he called me a liar!"
I felt my heart skip. "Betty—"
"And I told him my daddy is the strongest Alpha ever and he could beat up anyone, and then Tommy laughed and said I don't even have a daddy!"
The room seemed to tilt slightly. I steadied myself against the doorframe, feeling Principal Reynolds' curious gaze on my back.
"Ms. Santos, perhaps we could discuss this privately while Betty finishes her artwork?"
I nodded stiffly, pressing a kiss to Betty's forehead before following the principal back to her office.
Once the door closed, Principal Reynolds sighed. "Betty has been telling elaborate stories about... werewolves and pack hierarchies. When questioned, she insists these aren't stories but facts about her father."
"Children have active imaginations," I said carefully.
"Of course. But when it leads to confrontations with other students—" The principal paused. "Ms. Santos, I know you're a single mother, and Betty's father isn't in the picture. Perhaps she's creating these fantasies to fill that void."
*If only it were that simple.* "I appreciate your concern, but I'll handle this at home."
The principal nodded, clearly not satisfied but unwilling to press the issue with one of the school's most generous benefactors. "There's one more thing. Betty said something... unusual during the argument."
I tensed. "What?"
"She told Tommy that her 'wolf would eat his' if he didn't stop being mean." Principal Reynolds looked uncomfortable. "And then her eyes... one of the teachers thought they changed color for a moment. A trick of the light, obviously, but—"
"Obviously," I agreed quickly, my mind racing. It's starting. The wolf gene. Too early.
Ten minutes later, we were in the car, Betty chattering excitedly about her day as if nothing had happened. I half-listened, my thoughts turbulent. If Betty's wolf was emerging already, at only three years old...
"Mommy, is it true I don't have a daddy?"
The question pierced through my thoughts. I looked at my daughter—this perfect, miraculous child I had nearly lost, who had somehow survived against all odds.
"You have a daddy," I said carefully. "He just... isn't with us."
"Where is he? Is he a strong Alpha like I told Tommy?"
I closed my eyes briefly. "Betty, remember what we talked about? Some things we only discuss at home."
"But—"
"No buts. This is important, sweetheart."
Betty's lower lip trembled slightly, but she nodded. "Okay, Mommy."
Guilt twisted in my chest. How long could I keep the truth from her? How long before Betty's wolf nature fully manifested, demanding answers I wasn't ready to give?
As we pulled up to our penthouse building, my phone vibrated with an incoming call from Kade.
"How did it go at the school?" he asked without preamble.
"We'll discuss it later," I replied, conscious of Betty's attentive ears. "How was the Mayfair meeting?"
A pause. "That's why I'm calling. Something's wrong. They're suddenly backing out—claiming they've received a better offer."
"That's impossible. We matched every possible competitor's bid."
"Exactly." Kade's voice lowered. "And that's not all. Hargrove from RivalTech made a strange comment during the negotiations. Said you've 'made quite a few adversaries' and that you should 'watch your step.'"
A chill ran down my spine. "Those exact words?"
"Yes. The meeting fell apart after that. Aria, this feels coordinated."
I glanced at Betty, who was now focused on her tablet game. "I'll be there in an hour. Don't let anyone leave."
After settling Betty with her nanny, I returned to Nova headquarters, my mind calculating possibilities, weighing threats, formulating countermeasures. This was more than jealousy now—this was a direct attack on everything I had built.
The meeting with the executives was tense, strategies proposed and discarded as reports of unusual market activity continued to flow in. By the time darkness fell, my head was pounding.
"Take a break," Kade urged, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You've been at this for hours."
I shook my head. "I need to finish reviewing these reports."
"At least eat something. I'll have food brought up."
As soon as Kade left, I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. The warning note from earlier felt prescient now. Everything that ascends is prone to a decline.
After a moment, I stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office, looking out at the city lights. Somewhere out there was the person orchestrating these attacks—someone with enough knowledge and power to threaten my empire.
My gaze drifted to the framed photo on my desk: Betty at her third birthday party, beaming with chocolate cake smeared across her chubby cheeks. Everything I had built, every sacrifice, every sleepless night—it was all for my daughter. For the future she deserved.
A future without the pain of rejection. Without the cruelty of a world that saw us as expendable.
Turning away from the view, I moved back to my desk, intent on finishing my work before heading home. But something felt wrong. The air in the office seemed... disturbed.
My laptop screen, which I had left open to financial projections, was now blank. Completely wiped.
Heart racing, I quickly checked my files. Gone. All of them. My gaze darted to the security panel by the door—the light that should have been green was now dark. Disabled.
Someone had been in my office. Recently.
With trembling fingers, I accessed the building's security system from my phone, pulling up the footage from the last hour. There—a shadowy figure slipping into my office, face obscured by a hood, movements quick and deliberate as they tampered with my computer.
The intruder knew exactly what they were doing, exactly where to go. This wasn't random. This was targeted.
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