Chapter4
1162 Words
Five Years Later
“And the award for Best Research Doctor goes to Aria Sawyer!”
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause as my name echoed through the hall.
I smiled faintly, standing alone in my office, twirling a pen between my fingers while watching the replay of yesterday’s ceremony on the large screen mounted on the wall. I hadn’t attended in person. The award, along with gifts and bouquets, had been delivered to me later.
I was no longer the Elara people once knew.
When I first arrived in the human world, I was a homeless, frightened teenager with nothing but desperation keeping me alive. Now, I carried an empire on my shoulders.
Some even called me the Queen of the Human Land.
I wore a tailored gray suit with a pencil skirt and high stilettos. My hair was perfectly curled, my makeup flawless. I kept a stylist and makeup artist on standby not out of vanity, but necessity. My schedule was relentless. Meetings followed meetings. Interviews followed negotiations.
Magazines never stopped printing my face.
My personal assistant, one I couldn’t fire for many reasons sat across from me, watching as I turned off the television and finally gave him my attention.
“What is this, Mr. Bruno?” I asked, pointing to the file on the table.
“There are concerns from the werewolf community,” he replied, adjusting his suit. “A disease is spreading. They’ve sent multiple emails and letters requesting your attention.”
This was the tenth time we’d had this conversation.
“And why,” I said sharply, “do you have a file prepared for this? You know we don’t work with them. They cast us out. Every human here was once thrown away because we were weak, because we didn’t have active wolves. And now that they need help, you’re preparing reports for them?”
“Aria ,” Bruno said carefully, shifting in his chair, “I’m not saying you’re wrong about how the pack officials and council treated people. But not everyone there was cruel. Many left loved ones behind people who didn’t deserve to be abandoned.”
He paused before adding quietly, “I want you to help the werewolf land. In return, they’re offering significant support.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Help?” I scoffed. “What makes them think we want their help? We’re doing far better here than we ever did there. We don’t need anything from them.”
I slid the file back toward him.
“I’m the head of this research institute for a reason,” I continued coldly. “Take the file and discard it. We will not be helping them. Do you hear me?”
Bruno’s jaw tightened, but he nodded and stood.
He never understood the simplest truth.
The last time they sent “help,” it was expired medical supplies relabelled and falsely marked safe. Our people had gotten sick. Some had nearly died.
That was three years ago.
Since then, humans had learned to fight back.
When I first arrived, I’d realized the stories about human suffering were lies. This land was far kinder to the discarded than the werewolf world ever had been.
After Bruno left, I exhaled and stood, smoothing my suit. My office was on the third floor, with a private door connecting directly to my condo.
I opened it and hurried downstairs.
Someone special was arriving.
I stood by the door, my hands resting instinctively on my abdomen, a wide smile spreading across my face. The staff gathered behind me, holding refreshments and bags.
The door opened.
Three small figures burst inside, school bags bouncing as they ran toward me.
“Mom!”
I knelt despite my stilettos, opening my arms wide. They crashed into me, and I hugged them tightly.
“You look so good in gray, Mommy,” my daughter said, her bright green eyes sparkling.
I smiled but as I looked at all three of them, the familiar hesitation crept in.
They carried their fathers’ features too clearly.
I didn’t need a DNA test to know.
Axel’s eyes were Kaelen
Lyra’s vibrant green eyes belonged to Lucian
And Nova’s calm gray gaze mirrored Darius’s.
None of that mattered.
They weren’t their children.
They were mine.
I would never tell anyone who their fathers were. Children born together with different genetic signatures would be called freaks.
I carried them to their shared bedroom on the second floor. For now, I wanted them together to grow close, to protect one another.
The girls’ beds rested in opposite corners. Bodhi’s was in the middle. Each sat beneath a large window. The room was spacious, filled with every toy they could ever want.
After they changed, Axel sat quietly while I fixed his hair.
That was when I noticed Nova and Lyra whispering.
“You’re not going to tell Mommy?” I asked gently.
Nova stepped forward, her voice small.
“ Axel was in a lot of pain today.”
My heart froze.
“What happened?” I asked, cupping his face. He looked pale, nothing like his usual energetic self.
“He said he kept hearing wolves howling,” Nova whispered. “But Mommy… there weren’t any wolves.”
Ice flooded my veins.
The emails I’d ignored came rushing back.
The werewolf council had warned of a strange illness children hearing howls before their wolves awakened too early… then dying.
Fear clawed through me.
For the first time, I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake.
I gathered every detail from my children, fed them, tucked them in for a nap, then rushed back to my office.
I summoned Bruno and snatched the file from him.
The symptoms matched exactly.
“There are a lot of children who have died,” I said quietly.
“Yes,” Bruno confirmed. “Many.”
He paused. “Is that why you’re suddenly interested? Because you’re a mother ”
He stopped when I shot him a sharp look.
“Did they mention any treatments?” I asked. “Anything to delay it?”
“They found a temporary solution,” he said grimly. “But they won’t share it unless we help them.”
My hands clenched.
“Then we help them,” I said.
Bruno studied me, trying to understand my sudden change.
My children were everything.
If I had to work with the same people who destroyed me to save Bodhi, I would.
I needed their solution so I could create a permanent cure.
“There’s more,” Bruno added carefully. “They don’t want remote assistance. They want you there. Working with them. On their terms.”
Tears burned my eyes. Guilt crushed my chest.
What kind of mother misses the signs?
I inhaled sharply, straightened my posture, and lifted my chin.
“Prepare the ships,” I ordered.
“We leave in two days.”
For my children, I would walk back into hell
- Writer
