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The hall went deathly silent. A pin dropping on the marble floor would have echoed like a verdict. Wellington Corporation, my father's multimillion-dollar company. And the Alpha position. My father’s words, through Richard’s lawyerly voice, hung in the air like a death sentence. Five minutes ago, the faces around me had been politely hostile. Now they were murderous. Margaret Henley, the only woman on the council of elders, had her mouth open so wide she looked like she was trying to catch flies. Thomas Burke, the same elder who had led the charge to exile my mother, looked as though he’d swallowed poison and was choking on it. I felt Ronan's confused gaze from the children's area in the distance, but I couldn't respond. My palms started sweating, my heart pounding heavily against my ribs. The Alpha position? This wasn't just inheriting a title. This was binding myself to Queen's Pack's sinking ship. According to ancient pack law, once accepted, the position couldn't be relinquished except through death or voluntary abdication, which would mean permanent exile. And Sylvie? Sylvie looked like she wanted to peel my skin off with her perfectly manicured nails. My gaze swept the hall and landed on Sebastien. He was the only person in the room not about to explode over my father's shocking decision. Richard's announcement didn't seem to affect him at all. But something else was clearly bothering him. From his burning, accusatory stare, it had everything to do with Ronan. "There must be a mistake," Thomas Burke spoke up, his voice carrying the authority of decades spent making decisions for others. "Maya Wellington left this pack nine years ago. She's not qualified to inherit this title!" Richard shook his head, glancing at the documents again as if to confirm he hadn't misspoken. "The will is clear," he said. "William Wellington designated his daughter Maya as his heir. This includes the CEO position of Wellington Corporation and the Alpha position of Queen's Pack." Daughter. Not illegitimate daughter. Not half-breed. Just daughter. "Then what did he leave me?!" Sylvie snapped. I'd been waiting for her to speak up. Her skin had already flushed red with fury. "I was just getting to that," Richard said, looking at the folder. "To my beloved daughter Sylvie, I leave the vacation villa in Slavia Praha, ten percent of Wellington Corporation shares, and my blessing for your marriage to Sebastien Sinclair." Confusion flickered through me. Why leave the company to me? Sylvie had been by his side for nine years. They must have built some bond over family dinners. And Sylvie, always trying to appear perfect, always eager to take on responsibilities at the company… He must have noticed her ambition. Her hunger for power. Her desire to lead. Yet he had left the pack to me. "This is impossible!" Sylvie shot to her feet, her chair legs scraping a piercing shriek across the ancient floor. Her voice was no longer just angry; it trembled with the edge of a breakdown. "I'm his legitimate daughter! My mother was a pureblood Luna! Our union was blessed by all the wolves of New York! And she…" Her sharp finger jabbed toward me. "What is she? A mistake born from a human woman! A half-breed who can't even complete a full shift! Father couldn't… he couldn't humiliate me like this, humiliate my dead mother!" Her accusations echoed through the hall. Many elders looked conflicted, some openly sympathetic. Pureblood pride ran deep in this pack's bones. Sylvie's words had struck that chord. I felt invisible walls rising around me, walls built of prejudice and tradition. "According to the will, Maya's birth legitimacy is not under consideration," Richard said calmly. "Alpha Wellington's decision is binding under pack law. That's final." Queen's Pack law was clear. If an Alpha designated an heir, the pack was bound to obey. To defy that decision was treason. By rights, this title should have gone to Sylvie. She was the eldest daughter. "Fuck pack law!" Oh, Sylvie. Wrong audience. The elders lived and breathed these laws. Their entire existence was dedicated to upholding them. Any attempt to challenge their authority was dangerous; even my father had nearly been engulfed by the backlash when he tried to make my mother Luna. "She doesn't even live here!" Sylvie's voice grew shriller, more desperate. "How can someone who knows nothing about this pack lead us? I should be Alpha! It's my birthright! I'm his legitimate daughter!" Her throat worked as emotion broke through her words. "I was here while you were in Spain! I stayed by Father's side! I sacrificed for the pack, only to be ignored. And in the end, he gave everything to her!" Her gaze snapped to mine, something sharp and dangerous flashing in her eyes. My wolf went instantly on alert. "You think you can waltz back in and take everything that belongs to me?" she spat. "You think Daddy's guilt can erase nine years of abandonment? Do you know how many times I wished he'd look at me the way he looked at you? How many times I wished he'd call me his precious girl? But he never, never did." She shook her head bitterly, tears welling. "No. I won't accept this. Over my dead body will I let you stroll in and take what's mine." "What's yours?" I finally spoke, my voice not loud but clear enough to cut through the whispers. "Sylvie, I never wanted to take anything from you. I came back only to bury our father. That's it." "Lies!" she hissed. "You've been good at that since we were kids! Looking at him with those pitiful mixed-blood eyes, making him go soft, making him give you attention that should have been mine! Mom was right; you're just like your human mother. Both of you, nothing but parasites!" Her breathing grew ragged as she began to move. One step. Another. The air thickened with violence. Oh, shit. She was actually going to… Sylvie lunged at me. Yes. She came at me like an MMA fighter. I'd clearly forgotten how much she loved turning desperation into madness. I barely had time to shove my chair back to dodge her attack. But my wolf surged forward, instinct taking over, and my reflexes were fast enough to block her nails before they raked across my face. As a half-human, half-wolf, I couldn't shift. Not even partially. All I had was a wolf spirit. I could feel her, communicate with her, borrow her senses: heightened reflexes, sharp smell, keener hearing. Compared to pureblood wolves, it was nothing. But right now, it was enough. Enough to survive my half-sister's clawed assault. "You bitch!" We crashed into the chairs behind me. Pain shot through my lower back. "You don't deserve anything!" Spit flew from her mouth as she clawed wildly. "You weren't there! You weren't by his bedside when he was sick. It was me! I stayed!" I grabbed her wrists, desperately keeping those sharp claws away from my face. She was strong, pure werewolf strength amplified by rage. I felt my arms trembling, my muscles screaming in protest. This was the gap between us. Physically, I was at a disadvantage. But I had something else: the cunning I'd learned from scrapping my way through the human world. I was about to kick her off when the temperature in the hall seemed to drop ten degrees. "Enough, Sylvie!" Sebastien's low growl brought a dead silence to the chaos. Sylvie froze. In three strides, he cut through the crowd, grabbed her upper arm, and effortlessly pulled her off me. "I said enough," he repeated, his voice low. "You're embarrassing yourself. And this pack." Beside him, she looked small, like a rabid Chihuahua subdued by a mastiff, her expression crumbling. "Are you all right?" he asked, his blue eyes fixed on the scratch on my cheek. "You're bleeding." I wiped my face. My fingers came away red. Great. The sting was barely noticeable. Neither was Sylvie's hysteria. What I actually felt was the rage churning inside me. Because who told Sebastien Sinclair I needed him to save me? "She's all right?!" Sylvie shouted. "Are you fucking kidding me, Sebastien? I'm your fiancée!" "Fiancée or not, you crossed a line, Sylvie." He released her, his voice firm and calm, then walked toward me. "I have a first-aid kit in my car. I can…" "No." My voice cut like steel. "I don't need your help. And I don't need you playing hero in front of me." Sebastien's expression shifted. Hurt, maybe? But he didn't show it. He stopped in his tracks and stepped back. But his hands clenched tight, as if forcing himself to maintain distance came at a cost. Maybe I'd been too quiet when I walked in. Too calm. I'd endured their scorching disdain, let Sebastien think he had any right to speak to me. I'd even been attacked by my lunatic sister. They must have thought I was still that girl from nine years ago. The one who would bend under their cruelty. They were wrong. Maybe I didn't care what they said, but they needed to know that I wasn't that girl anymore. I scanned the floor and picked up my handbag. But I didn't leave. No. Instead, I stepped forward. Toward Sylvie. My face like steel, my voice like ice. "Next time you come at me like a rabid animal," I said, "I will bury you in lawsuits until you can't even pick up the scraps of your dignity." Sylvie's eyes widened. "Are you threatening me, Maya?" "No. That's a promise." I turned, my gaze sweeping across the shocked and displeased faces of the Elder Council, finally settling on Thomas Burke. "Elder Burke, according to Pack Law, what is the punishment for attacking a sitting or incoming Alpha when no fatal injury is caused?" He hesitated. "…Confinement, or a fine, depending on the circumstances." "Then, before I decide whether to formally assume the position, I will not demand punishment. But what happened today—everyone here is a witness." My voice wasn't loud, but it cracked through the silent air like a whip. "I understand you all have doubts about my abilities and my bloodline. But doubt does not justify condoning violence. If the Queen's Pack can't maintain even the most basic order, it has no future." Then, without waiting for a response or sparing another glance at the elders or Sebastien, I walked straight out of the hall. Outside, I found Ronan with the other children, his laughter drifting across the lawn. He looked happy. That happiness twisted my heart in a painful way because this was his world. His pack. "Ronan!" I called. He jogged over, smiling, but when he got close enough to see my face clearly, the smile faded. "Is everything okay, Mom?" He'd always been sensitive. Maybe too sensitive. I wasn't sure if that was a werewolf trait. I managed a smile. "Are you ready to leave? We're flying back to Spain first thing tomorrow." He glanced back at the other children. I saw the longing in his eyes. Then he turned to face me. "Mom, can we stay a few more days? At least until the full moon? Daniel’s brother is shifting for his first time, and I… I want to see what it's like." His words made my chest tighten. He was curious about this world that had once rejected me, but it was his world too. What kind of mother would I be to deny him this chance? Before I could answer, the air changed. I felt him before I saw him—that oppressive power announcing that Sebastien Sinclair had entered the space. From the corner of my eye, I saw his gaze land on Ronan. Ronan noticed him too. "Mom, who is that man?" I swallowed past the sting in my throat. "We'll talk about it back at the hotel, Ronan. Let's go. I'm hungry." "Me too!" His cheerful voice piped up as he matched my hurried pace, no questions asked. "Mom, can we have burgers and fries for dinner?" " Anything you want." ***** Just past eight that evening, the lobby manager called my room to say I had a visitor. A man named Richard. Ronan had fallen asleep after dinner, exhausted by the day's chaos. I was tired too—but more mentally than physically. I'd thought I was ready to see Sebastien again. I thought the walls I'd built were strong enough to keep him out. I'd forgotten one detail. This man wasn't just charming. He was charm itself. I opened the door and sighed. "Richard, if you're here to continue the circus from the hall, I'm really not interested. I have an early flight tomorrow." He froze as he stepped inside, surprise flashing across his face. "You're leaving?" "Yes." My answer was short and firm. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me. "I hope this will change your mind." I frowned. "What is this?" "A letter from your father." I took the envelope, opened it, and pulled out a sheet of paper covered in my father's distinctive handwriting. Maya, If you're reading this, I'm dead, and Richard just made you very unpopular. I'm sorry for that, but I don't regret my decision. The pack is in trouble. Financial trouble. The kind that could destroy everything I've built. I don't want to bore you with details. Richard can tell you the specifics, but we're months from bankruptcy. Maybe weeks. I know you're probably wondering why. Why you. Why not your sister? Sylvie has ambition, but not wisdom. She sees leadership as power to wield, not responsibility to bear. You see it differently. I've been keeping an eye on you in Spain. Don't look so surprised—I'm your father. I know you turned a failing café around in eighteen months. I know you negotiated supplier contracts that would make my CFO weep with envy (fire him, by the way. He doesn't deserve Wellington Corp). I also know that when your landlord tried to evict you, you didn't back down—you found leverage and made him retreat. That's what this pack needs. Not someone who wants to lead. Someone who knows how. You have the mind to make hard decisions and the spine to see them through. You remind me of myself when I was young, before pack politics wore down my edges. Trust your instincts. You have your mother's heart and my stubbornness. Use both. Also, Maya, be careful. Inside and outside the pack, some people and things are not what they seem. I recently discovered some disturbing signs, but I didn't have time to sort them out. Don't trust anyone easily, even those you think are allies. Some evidence, once it surfaces, could be very dangerous. And Maya? Don't let them break you the way they broke her. I love you. I always have. Dad I read the letter twice, then set it down. My father's words sent ripples through my heart. "Don't trust anyone easily," "evidence could be very dangerous"… These vague warnings, combined with the financial crisis he mentioned and what Richard had said earlier about "questionable investments," formed puzzle pieces pointing to something lurking beneath the surface. His death… was it really just a terrible car accident? The thought surfaced unbidden for the first time. But it wasn't just those things that caught my attention. I was also shocked that he'd been watching over me all along. All these years I'd thought he'd forgotten about his mixed-blood disappointment who'd fled the pack, and he'd been watching the whole time. A thought carried me back to a memory. I was sixteen, sitting in his office after the events coordinator quit at the last minute; I'd organized the pack's charity gala on the fly. He'd looked at me with something like pride in his eyes and said, "You don't panic, Maya. Most people see a crisis and freeze. You see problems and solve them. That's rare." At the time, I hadn't thought much of it. Now I wondered how many moments like that he'd been collecting, building his case for why I should lead this pack. "How bad is it?" I asked Richard. "Bad," he replied. "If nothing changes, we'll be in complete financial collapse within six months. Your father made some… questionable investments in tech startups that never materialized. And there's the leadership challenge from the Northridge Pack that cost us money and territory. They smell weakness." "Which investments specifically?" I pressed, my business instincts awakening. "Show me the reports and contracts. And what's this Northridge challenge about? I need details, Richard, not summaries." He looked taken aback, as if he hadn't expected me to dive straight into specifics. "I'll get everything together for you. But briefly, the biggest hole comes from continued funding into a biotech company called New Moon Therapies, a partner of Sterling Pharmaceuticals. Massive investment, but years later, no products are on the market and there are no substantial returns. Northridge is about a disputed territory in the western district. Your father seemed… too accommodating in negotiations. A lot of people thought he'd grown old. Weak." Sterling Pharmaceuticals. Sterling… that name felt familiar somehow. But my mind was racing with too many thoughts. Looking at the letter in my hand, I thought again about that café—Café Lunaire. When I'd bought it, the place was hemorrhaging money. The previous owner was desperate to unload it. Everyone said I was crazy. But I saw the potential beneath the chaos: a prime location, loyal morning regulars, and a lease that was actually reasonable if you knew how to read the terms. It took me four months to stop the bleeding and another year to turn a real profit. I'd renegotiated supplier contracts, restructured staff, and redesigned the menu to focus on high-margin items. "So basically," I leaned back in my chair, "you want me to come back to a place where half the people want me dead and the other half want me gone, then magically solve problems that even my father, someone who actually knew what he was doing, couldn't solve." "That's... not inaccurate," Richard admitted. "Though I'd argue your father used to know what he was doing. But the last few years... he was tired, Maya. And he no longer had the council's support." I wouldn't have the council's support either. Wouldn't that make it even harder? At least the pack had loved my father. Me? Not so much. Especially after my mother's scandal. I sighed. I could say no. I could get on a plane tomorrow, go back to Spain, return to my quiet, stable life. Let the pack solve its own problems. But even as I thought it, I knew I couldn't. Because no matter what—no matter how much hostility, no matter Sylvie's attack, no matter how much being back here felt like volunteering for psychological torture—this pack was still part of me. And those words in my father's letter clung to my thoughts like cold vines. If he really had discovered something... if there was more to his death... could I just walk away, let a potential killer go free, and let his warnings be buried with him? Then there was Ronan. The curiosity and subtle longing in his eyes when he'd watched the other werewolf children. He had a right to know his other half. A right to find a place in this world, however difficult. If I took him away and ran forever, would I be stripping away part of who he was? Besides, having the unwanted daughter save everyone? There was a poetic justice in that. "Fine," I said, surprised at how steady my voice sounded. "I'll do it." Richard's face lit up like I'd just told him Christmas had come early. "Maya, this..." "But I have conditions," I continued. "I do this my way. The elder council doesn't interfere, doesn't question my decisions, and my lovely sister absolutely does not ambush me again." "Of course. Whatever you need." "First, tomorrow at ten a.m., I want to see all financial documents, investment contracts, and all correspondence with Sterling Pharmaceuticals and New Moon Therapies." "Second, arrange meetings with my father's core management team and any elders in the pack who are still willing to talk to me. As soon as possible." "Third, regarding my father's death, I want the accident investigation report, scene photos, and all related documents." He noted each item, the surprise in his eyes gradually replaced by a new, appraising look. He seemed to see me for the first time, not as an old f