Chapter 3
979 Words
The room felt too small for the number of powerful people inside it. Heavy leather chairs, polished wooden shelves, and the gold–rimmed chandelier did nothing to soften the tension. It was the kind of silence that pressed on the chest. The kind of silence that happened only when money—real money—was on the line.
Ethan Lyric sat motionless at the long mahogany table, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the lawyer who was still flipping through the pages of the will. Everyone else stole glances at him, but Ethan didn’t return any of them. He was unreadable, his expression carved from stone.
Only his wolf stirred beneath the surface, pacing impatiently.
Across the table sat Magnus Lyric—Ethan’s uncle—leaning back in his chair like a man already tasting victory. His smile was small, smug, and irritatingly confident.
The lawyer cleared his throat again, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“We now come to the… final clause,” he said carefully.
Ethan didn’t move, but something sharp flashed in his eyes.
Everyone leaned forward slightly. This was the part that mattered.
The lawyer continued, voice steady but cautious, “According to the late Alpha Gregory Lyric’s written instruction, the position of CEO and the controlling shares of Lyric Industries shall be transferred to his only son, Ethan Lyric…”
Magnus shifted. His smile froze.
“…on the condition,” the lawyer added, pausing long enough to make several people swallow nervously, “that Ethan enters a legally recognized marriage before his twenty-eighth birthday.”
The entire room broke into whispers.
Ethan’s fingers tightened around the arm of his chair. Marriage. The one word he didn’t expect to hear today. His father had mentioned leadership, responsibility, legacy—but marriage?
Magnus eyes gleamed with malicious delight.
The lawyer raised a hand to silence the murmurs. “The will states clearly that the marriage must be genuine, not contractual, and must be recognized under both human law and pack law.”
Ethan finally spoke, voice calm but edged with cold steel.
“And if I don’t?”
The lawyer swallowed. “If you fail to meet the requirement… the entire company—the seat, the alpha title, and the controlling shares—will pass to the next eligible male heir.”
The next eligible male heir.
Every head in the room slowly turned toward Magnus
His smile widened. He didn’t bother hiding it now.
Ethan didn’t look at him. He didn’t need to. He could feel Magnus satisfaction filling the room like smoke.
Ethan leaned back, controlling his breathing. He wasn’t shocked easily, but this—this was a blow as unexpected as it was intrusive. His father had always been a traditional Alpha, but he had never imposed personal obligations on Ethan… not like this.
Marriage.
Before the deadline.
Or lose everything his father built.
His wolf let out a low growl inside him.
He wants to control us even from the grave.
No, Ethan corrected silently. He wants to protect the pack.
By chaining us?
Ethan didn’t answer.
The whispers grew louder again. Some were sympathetic. Others were excited. Many were happy to watch drama unfold between two powerful Lycans.
Magnus folded his hands on the table. “Well,” he said smoothly, “your father always believed stability was important, Ethan. A family-oriented Alpha inspires confidence.”
Ethan’s gaze finally lifted to meet Magnus. Cold. Direct. Warning.
“Don’t pretend to know what my father believed,” Ethan said calmly.
Magnus chuckled. “Whether I know or not, the will is the will. And time is ticking, nephew.”
The lawyer straightened the papers. “Mr. Lyric… Ethan… the deadline is six months from today.”
Six months.
That was nothing. Too short for fate. Too short for finding a true mate. Too short for trust in a world where people wanted his name more than his heart.
Ethan exhaled once, slowly, through his nose.
“Is that all?” he asked, voice flat.
The lawyer nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Ethan stood. He didn’t slam his chair back, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t show an ounce of panic. That was what made him unnerving—Ethan didn’t react the way normal men did. He never cracked, never let emotion show unless he allowed it.
But everyone felt the shift in the air around him.
It grew heavier.
Colder.
Stricter.
Magnus rose too. “Ethan—”
“I don’t need your commentary,” Ethan cut in, not turning.
“But surely you understand how this puts pressure on the board—”
Ethan paused at the door.
“The board answers to me,” he said. “Not you.”
Magnus smile faltered.
Before anyone else could speak, Ethan walked out of the room, each step controlled, each movement sharp with restrained fury.
The moment the door closed behind him, the tension in the hallway hit him like heat. He loosened his tie slightly, needing space to think, to breathe.
His wolf whispered.
We don’t want a bride.
“We don’t,” Ethan answered quietly.
But we won’t lose what’s ours.
He stopped walking, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Marriage.
Six months.
The company he’d spent years preparing to lead hanging in the balance.
The Lyric name… tethered to a deadline he never agreed to.
Ethan’s jaw set.
If his father thought this would force him into settling down blindly, he was mistaken. If Magnus thought this was the moment he’d finally take the throne he’d been eyeing, he was mistaken.
Ethan would choose his path.
His way.
On his terms.
And if somewhere out there was a woman capable of holding his world together—he’d find her.
He just didn’t know that fate was already moving toward him, quietly…
and faster than he expected.
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