My Dad Is An SSS Lycan!

Chapter 7

“Take a good look at yourself.” Diana shrugged, her tone light, as though explaining something to a slow-witted child: “This ending, it’s the result of your own choices. Don’t look at us like we were the ones who pushed you off a cliff.”

Elena didn’t answer. She no longer had the strength to. Her heart had been broken so many times that now, it beat only out of biological instinct. Hollow.

Reginald sat down, crossing one leg over the other, his hand leisurely running over the handle of his cane like a wartime gentleman: “A man like him, silent as stone, poor as filth, can only survive by swallowing his pride and leeching off women. But even women must know how to choose. Unfortunately, you weren’t smart enough to choose right.”

“No, Father.” Diana corrected: “she was smart. But only halfway. That’s why she’s so pathetic. If she were completely stupid, she might be living now like a pampered lapdog in someone’s home.”

The words caught in Elena’s throat.

Not because of what was said, but because, in that moment, she realized: if she were to collapse, no one would catch her. If she stopped breathing, no one would rush to revive her.

They didn’t see her as a person.

And Zeyan… the only one still standing beside her… was doing nothing but watching.

“I really want to know.” Diana leaned on the table, tilting her head at Zeyan like observing a curious specimen: “what made you think you could walk into this place, open your mouth and say ‘three billion dollars,’ then stand there like a statue and expect people to believe you?”

Zeyan didn’t look at her.

“You think she needs a hero?” she laughed, her eyes gleaming with feigned pity: “She doesn’t. Because if she did, at the very least, you’d need to do something in this room besides just stay silent.”

Reginald added, his voice steady as if reciting a death sentence: “Her weakness is believing in a man who doesn’t exist in any system. Your stupidity is thinking a promise has the same value as a signature. And the tragedy for both of you… is that little girl over there, being bought, sold, bargained like merchandise.”

Elena looked at her daughter. She couldn’t cry anymore. All resistance within her had gone silent. Under the sterile white lights, Lyra’s tiny face looked blurred, as though she wasn’t really here anymore.

Marven placed the pen back in his hand: “I’m starting to feel this is a waste of time. If no one has anything else to say, I’ll sign.”

Zeyan still didn’t react.

Elena closed her eyes.

At that moment, there were no voices in her head. No shouting. No pleading. Only a vast emptiness, so deep she felt as though she were floating in a space without gravity.

Then suddenly, a sound of the door opening echoed.

Not loud. Not rushed. Just a faint hinge click, but enough to drag the entire room back to earth.

A man stepped in, wearing a light blue shirt, coat draped over one arm, silver-rimmed glasses on his nose, a file tucked under the other arm, and an expression so composed and courteous it forced every gaze to pause.

Marven was the first to speak: “Excuse me, who authorized your entrance?”

The man flipped a work badge, his voice not loud, but each syllable was crystal clear: “Lucas Haynes. Independent Oversight Division, Bioethics Compliance Unit.”

Marven frowned: “Which department?”

Lucas took a step closer, his gaze never lingering on anyone for more than a second: “Regional Bureau of Biocoordination and Safety. I’ve been assigned to assess research sites flagged for high-risk protocols. This location is one of them.”

Diana stood up, arching a brow, still unsure of the situation: “Who sent you?”

Lucas didn’t answer immediately. He simply pulled a sealed red envelope from his file and placed it on the table before Marven: “Authorization documents. Contains a directive for inspection and an order to freeze all transfers of gene-coded Alpha specimens with unverified lineage.”

Reginald’s expression shifted: “What is this nonsense?”

Lucas remained impassive: “It’s not nonsense, sir. It’s standard preliminary investigation. Based on reports from three separate bloodline data extraction facilities. There are signs of uncontrolled mutation. The specimen in question has been identified as Lyra Ashbourne.”

Diana narrowed her eyes: “You think you have the authority to walk into a multimillion-dollar contract and demand it be frozen?”

Lucas didn’t turn his head: “I’m not demanding. I’m informing. The order was effective before I arrived.”

Marven gripped the pen tighter: “Your office doesn’t have jurisdiction over advanced-stage clinical research. My documentation was approved by the Alpha Technical Council six months ago.”

Lucas lightly tapped the red envelope: “You should review Section 3.2. It states that if any specimen exhibits unclear bloodline origin, especially when there are signs of gene leakage or transgenic alteration, all research privileges are to be temporarily suspended. Regardless of previous approvals.”

Diana crossed her arms: “How interesting. An inspection officer talking like a judge.”

Lucas didn’t smile. Didn’t reply.

And throughout this entire exchange, he never once looked at Zeyan.

Not once.

As if the man was merely a shadow behind Elena. Someone not worth acknowledging.

And Zeyan, likewise, never looked back at Lucas.

There was no glance of recognition. No nod. No silent understanding.

…

Marven stared at the red envelope before him as if it were an outdated fax from a bygone century. No one hurried to open it. No one spoke for a few seconds, a strange silence, like the pause before an uproarious laugh.

And indeed, it came.

Reginald was the first to chuckle softly, tilting his head toward Lucas as if he’d just witnessed a poorly acted play.

“You think…” he drawled: “…a no-name carrying a file folder and the badge of some ‘independent’ agency no one’s ever verified, can walk in here and freeze an Alpha-level deal worth hundreds of millions of dollars?”

Lucas didn’t respond. The question hadn’t been meant for an answer.

Marven hadn’t let go of the pen. He simply lifted it slightly toward the light and said quietly: “Your entry was clean. The documents look fine. But unless I can verify the source, you’re just another salaried bureaucrat who clocked in late.”

Diana crossed her arms and began circling Lucas like appraising a piece of furniture: “Lucas, was it? Let me guess. He—” she pointed at Zeyan: “—hired you? How much? A million? Five? Or are you just trying to delay this because you owe him for a doctor’s bill?”

Lucas remained still. His expression unchanged.

Zeyan said nothing.

Elena raised her head, her eyes uncertain, she didn’t know who this man was. And more importantly, why he had arrived at that precise moment.

Diana smiled faintly: “I’ll admit, it’s a clever move. Bring in a stranger, speak in absolutes, drop a few official-sounding orders on the table, and hope we all panic. Too bad…” She shook her head: “It’s an old trick.”