The document is riep, the ink will fresh 1 feed nothing but annoyed as 1 skim through the clauses of this fake marriage
Three months of marriage. A transactional agreement.
No emotions, no commitment involved.
Just an exchangeh–her presence for my public image, my money for her cooperation.
How has it come to this?
Thinking back to Siena’s behavior a few days ago, it’s hard not to wonder if she’s changed.
Or is it hope?
A ridiculous thought, really,
Siena has always been the same–an insufferable, attention–seeking woman. The way she smiled so easily at the reporters, the way she didn’t so much as flinch when Lila made her accusations.
That was all something, she had never shown in front of me before.
It was different.
My wolf, Horace, stirs
[So what if Siena has changed? You think that you have not? And while we’re asking these questions, Raiden, have you considered your one–sided infatuation with Lila?]
I scoff, pushing the thought away. I snap back internally. “This has nothing to do with you!”
Horace is becoming restless. I feel his fury brewing deep inside, but I refuse to let his emotional outbursts dictate my actions.
“Horace, the things I do, I do for us and for the kingdom.”
He doesn’t reply, but I feel his dissent thrash wildly inside.
The phone rings, interrupting the silent tug–of–war.
“Alpha, I thought you should know, Siena’s team maybe added a few more financial terms to the contract.”
More?
- “Impossible. I have the contract here in my hand. The lawyer brought it over this morning.”
“I’m sending the revised version,” he hesitates. “You should take a look.”
The line goes dead.
“…What the hell!”
My fist slams against the mahogany desk, rattling the golden office trinkets that sustain my stationery.
1/4
Chapter II
Any doubt I had before vanished.
It’s just as I suspected. Siena hasn’t changed at all–still greedy, still self–serving She’s still keen on playing her usual games, trying desperately to keep me entangled in her web.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Come in.”
Zion strides into my office, his effortless charisma and perfectly manicured hair a sign of his wealth and inherited status. A sly smile curves his lips as his sharp, intelligent eyes land on the contract in my hands.
Amusement flickers across Zion’s face;
“So, it’s true!” He lets out a low chuckle.
Without hesitation, he lowers himself into the leather chair across from me, unfastening the button of his tailored suit jacket with practiced confidence and ease.
Zion Ashford, the second son of the most powerful family in the Silverfang Pack, has always been free from the burdens of responsibility. Unlike his older brother, groomed to lead, Zion has spent his life indulging in leisure, enjoying the perks of pack wealth and status without the weight that duty brings.
His reputation precedes him–notorious flirt, a playboy who collects fleeting romances like trophies.
But underneath the facade, and why I call him brother, is an untouched innocence that few know–a heart that has never really known love.
The world sees a man who plays the game of romance, but in reality, every connection is shallow because he cannot connect
-trust.
