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"“No, he's already the past,” I snap. “I caught him screwing my stepsister tonight. So yeah, I’m celebrating my heartbreak.” The stranger at the bar lifts a brow, his voice low and rough. “Then he’s an idiot. Want me to make you forget him?” I should’ve walked away. Instead, I said, “Try me.” One drink turned into a kiss. One kiss into a night I can’t erase. When I woke, his scent was still on my skin—clean pine, danger, desire. I thought I’d never see him again. Until he walked into my office the next morning in a tailored suit. “Miss Pierce,” he said, those same blue eyes pinning me to my chair. “I’m Lucius Watson. Your new CEO.” My blood froze. The man I thought was a one-night mistake now owned my company—and knew every inch of me. He looked at me like he could still smell the truth beneath my perfume. Like he wanted to claim me all over again. But there’s something darker behind his control. The way his eyes glow when he’s angry. The way his voice rumbles—not human, not safe. “Run if you want,” he whispers, stepping closer. “But you’re already mine, Claire. My wolf chose you.” I could keep denying it, but the bond had already formed. “You are my mate. Even if you didn't know it yet.”" 　　Claire's POV 　　I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror, studying every detail with almost obsessive care. The black lace lingerie beneath my dress hugged my body like a secret, a promise only one man was meant to uncover. The scarlet slip dress fit over it perfectly, its thin straps tracing the line of my collarbones before dipping into a neckline. I'd spent the past hour curling my hair, lining my lips with crimson, and fastening the gold bracelet Ethan gave me last year. It shimmered softly under the warm light, a reminder of how much tonight was supposed to mean. 　　Our four-year anniversary. 　　Four years of waiting. Four years of believing. 　　My mother's voice echoed in my head — "A woman's worth blooms in patience. Never give yourself away before you're certain." She'd repeated that lesson my entire life, and I'd obeyed it with the kind of faith only love could justify. I'd waited for Ethan to be ready — for his career, for his ambitions, for us. He used to say, "When I can give you the life you deserve, that's when I'll put a ring on your finger." 　　And tonight… I believed he would. 　　I smiled faintly at my reflection, trying to suppress the nerves fluttering in my stomach. My heels clicked as I picked up the bouquet of deep red roses tied with a white ribbon,and the small cake I'd ordered with the words "Forever starts tonight." 　　The elevator ride to his apartment felt endless. My pulse quickened with every floor, a soft rhythm that seemed to whisper this is it, this is the moment. 　　But the moment I opened his door, the world shattered. 　　I heard the pleasurable moans.Emma, my stepsister, was on all fours on the sofa as Ethan lunged toward her. 　　My stomach churned as I stared at the scene in disgust. 　　"Did my goody-two-shoes stepsister ever make you feel this good?" Emma purred between gasps. 　　Ethan roughly grabbed her shoulders, "That prude? Couldn't even show emotion if she tried. I was so bored to death." 　　White-hot rage flooded my veins.So this was his truth?All those nights he'd "respected" my choice to wait just empty words? 　　We were together for four years, and Ethan definitely knew how much I despised Emma. Her mother was the mistress who stole my father away, and now she's stealing my boyfriend? 　　The air left my lungs in a violent rush. My heart didn't just break — it imploded. The cake slipped from my trembling hands, crashing onto the floor with a dull, wet sound. Frosting splattered across the carpet like blood. 　　Ethan snapped his head up, shock flashing across his face, but not enough to make him stop. Emma gasped and covered herself with a blanket, then smirked when she realized it was me. 　　"Oh," she said softly,with mock pity. "Guess she found out." 　　Ethan stood, cursing under his breath, grabbing his jeans. "Claire, wait—" 　　"Don't," I whispered. My voice shook, and so did my hands. 　　He reached for me, and I stepped back. "You were supposed to propose tonight," I said, each word breaking apart. "I was going to— I thought—" 　　Emma's laugh cut through me like a blade. "Propose? To you? Please. You're a virgin who thinks love is a charity project." 　　Ethan shot her a glare, but she didn't stop. "He told me how you always pull away when he touches you. How he's tired of waiting for your perfect little fairytale." She leaned forward, her smirk widening. "He said it's like trying to seduce a nun." 　　Something inside me snapped. 　　I grabbed the bottle of red wine I'd brought for dinner and swung it with every ounce of pain tearing through me. It hit Ethan's shoulder instead of his head, shattering into a spray of glass and burgundy. He stumbled back, shouting my name, but I was already reaching for the cake, the one that once spelled forever. 　　It landed square on Emma's face. 　　She screamed.A ridiculous, muffled sound through the frosting . I stood there, chest heaving, watching them both like strangers in a nightmare. 　　"Take a good look," I hissed. "Because this is the last time you'll ever see me weak." 　　Ethan's expression twisted between guilt and anger. "You're overreacting—" 　　"Overreacting?" I laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. "You just destroyed four years of my life for my step-sister, Ethan. There's no 'overreacting' to that." 　　"Get out," Emma spat, wiping cream from her cheek. "You were never good enough for him anyway." 　　I turned to the door, my hands still shaking but my spine straight. "You can keep him," I said quietly. "You two deserve each other." 　　And I walked out — no tears, no backward glance. Just the click of my heels on the hallway floor and the bitter taste of betrayal on my tongue. 　　The night air hit me like ice. I stumbled down the street, clutching my purse to my chest as if it could hold my breaking heart together. 　　Every step carried me further from the life I'd built, from the girl I used to be. 　　I thought of all the nights I'd stayed up helping Ethan fix his résumé, the meals I'd skipped to pay his rent when he lost his job, the gentle way he used to tuck my hair behind my ear and whisper, "You're my future." 　　All lies. 　　I ducked into the first bar I saw — a small, dim-lit place with music humming low and the air thick with whiskey and smoke. The bartender gave me a quick glance, then silently poured me a drink. I didn't even taste it before ordering another. 　　The alcohol burned, numbing something deep inside. 　　I was halfway through my third when I noticed him. 　　A man sitting at the far end of the bar, alone. He was all sharp lines and quiet power — blond hair that caught the amber light, a jaw that looked carved from marble, eyes the color of a winter sky. He wasn't watching anyone, just slowly turning his glass in his hand, lost in thought. 　　Something about him drew me in — he looked like danger wrapped in elegance. 　　I slid off my stool and walked toward him, the click of my heels slicing through the music. 　　He looked up as I approached, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. 　　"Rough night?" he asked, voice low and velvety, with an accent I couldn't place. 　　"You could say that." I smiled, but it came out broken. “I just caught my boyfriend cheating with my stepsister.” 　　His brow lifted, but there was no pity in his eyes. Only quiet understanding. "Then he's a fool." 　　I laughed, a bitter sound that turned into something softer. "You don't even know me." 　　"I don't need to," he said. "A man who betrays loyalty isn't worth knowing." 　　The simplicity of his words hit deeper than I expected. My heart stuttered, unsure whether to ache or steady. 　　He gestured to the empty stool beside him. "Sit." 　　I hesitated ,then obeyed. His scent was clean, cold, with a hint of something wild beneath it, like pine andmint. It filled my lungs, clouding the edges of my thoughts. 　　"What's your name?" I asked. 　　"Lucius." His eyes flickered with something I couldn't define. "And you?" 　　"Claire." 　　"Claire," he repeated, as if tasting it. "So what are you doing here, Claire?" 　　"Take me away from here," I said. 　　His eyes darkened, but he didn't move. "You're drunk. You don't mean that." 　　"I do." I placed my hand over his. His skin was warm, but there was a strange pulse beneath it — not quite human. "Please." 　　He exhaled slowly, his gaze searching mine, testing my resolve. "You're sure?" 　　"Yes." 　　Something shifted then. His restraint melted into a silent decision. He stood, his height eclipsing mine, and reached for my coat. When his fingers brushed my shoulder, a spark ran through me so sharp it made my knees weaken. 　　He wrapped an arm around my waist ,firm,protective. Then he guided me toward the door. 　　Outside, the city had quieted, rain misting against the pavement. He opened the back door of a sleek black car, his other hand shielding me from the rain. Elegant and gentlemanly.. 　　Before I got in, I looked up at him. Really looked. 　　The streetlight caught his eyes. 　　They glowed. 　　Not the reflection of light, not a trick of alcohol — but a faint, golden glow pulsing from within. 　　For a heartbeat, the world held still. 　　"What are you?" I whispered. 　　Lucius smiled faintly, his voice a murmur against the night. "You'll find out soon enough, Claire." 　　Claire's POV 　　The first thing I felt was heat. Not from the morning sun, but from the sheets tangled around my bare legs, still holding the traces of last night's fever. 　　I stirred, disoriented, and the scent in the air hit me. Crisp like pine and mint, yet wild in a way that didn't belong to cities or people. My lashes fluttered open. 　　The room wasn't mine. 　　High ceilings. Velvet curtains drawn halfway. A crystal chandelier that glittered in the pale dawn. And beneath me, silk sheets smooth as sin. I sat up too fast, the blanket falling to my waist. My body ached in places I hadn't known could ache. Every breath a reminder of what had happened, what I had let happen. 　　God. 　　My pulse stuttered as the truth hit: I'd slept with a stranger. 　　A stranger whose face I could still see every time I blinked — sharp jawline, ice-blue eyes, a voice that rumbled like thunder from somewhere deep in his chest. 　　Lucius. 　　Even the memory of his name made my skin prickle. 　　Then I heard it,the steady rush of running water from the bathroom. 　　He was still here. 　　Panic crawled up my throat. I scanned the room for my dress, spotted the scarlet fabric pooled near an armchair, and clutched the blanket tighter. My mind felt like shards of glass, replaying flashes of the night before — his touch, his breath, the way he'd said my name like it was sacred. 　　And how easily I'd fallen. 　　It had started with a kiss.His lips had brushed mine once, twice, testing, before deepening the kiss until I forgot how to breathe. 　　When he pulled back, I'd whispered, "I don't usually—" 　　"I know," he'd murmured. "You don't have to explain." 　　He'd guided me slowly, patiently, his hands tracing my shoulders, my spine, every curve as if memorizing them. And when he finally entered me, I gasped. Pain flashed, then melted into something fierce and consuming. He froze, his breath hitching. 　　"Claire," he whispered, his voice breaking, "tell me to stop." 　　But I didn't. I couldn't. 　　Because for the first time in my life, I felt alive. 　　There was too much power beneath his restraint, too much heat. He kissed me until I forgot my own name, until the world narrowed to the sound of his heartbeat against mine — heavy, irregular, almost animal. 　　And when I finally reached my breaking point beneath him, he caught me, holding me so tightly it almost hurt. 　　Then everything faded into silence. 　　Now the silence was unbearable. 　　The water shut off. 　　I scrambled to gather my clothes, fingers trembling, my mind screaming for escape. But before I could reach the door, it swung open suddenly. 　　Lucius stepped out. 　　He wore nothing but a towel, water dripping down his chest, blond hair damp and tousled. In daylight, he looked impossibly beautiful. Too beautiful. 　　Our eyes met. His were cooler now, unreadable. 　　For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. 　　His gaze dropped to the bed, then to the faint, unmistakable stain on the sheets. 　　My stomach turned to stone. 　　His jaw clenched. "That was your first time," he said, not asking — stating. 　　I felt the blood drain from my face. "That's none of your business." 　　He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I should've stopped." 　　"Yeah," I bit out, forcing a shaky laugh. "You should've." 　　He turned toward the dresser and reached for his wallet. 　　My heart lurched. 　　Of course. This was the part where he'd pay me off, because that's what strangers did after ruining something sacred, wasn't it? 　　Before he could say another word, I snatched my purse from the floor, pulled out the crumpled bills I had left from last night. A hundred and fifty dollars. 　　I threw them onto the table. 　　"There," I snapped, voice cracking. "You're worth about that much." 　　The words tasted like acid. 　　Lucius went still. 　　Then he turned, slowly, his eyes no longer cold but burning. "You think I'd treat you like that?" he asked softly. Too softly. 　　My throat tightened. "What else am I supposed to think?" 　　Something shifted in him. The air thickened. His pupils expanded, swallowing the pale blue until gold flickered underneath — bright, unnatural, alive. 　　A low, guttural growl rumbled from deep in his chest, too low to be human. The sound vibrated through the air, crawling beneath my skin and freezing me in place. 　　"Lucius…" I whispered, backing away. "What was that?" 　　He didn't answer. His breathing had changed. Heavier, rougher. For a moment, I thought he might… shift. Into what, I didn't know. 　　Then he blinked, and the gold faded. 　　"Get dressed," he said quietly, turning away as if he'd just chained himself. "You'll catch cold." 　　That tiny flicker of concern only fueled my humiliation. "Don't pretend you care." 　　He didn't move. Didn't even [contact] I heard the faintest crack in his voice when he murmured, "You shouldn't run from me, Claire." 　　"Watch me." 　　I grabbed my shoes and bolted. 　　The hallway was long and too bright. My heels clicked against marble, echoing like gunshots. By the time I reached the hotel lobby, I was half shaking, half laughing at myself — the kind of hysterical laugh that comes right before tears. The receptionist gave me a curious look, but I kept walking, clutching my coat tight over my chest. 　　Outside, the morning wind was merciless. The city was waking. People rushing to work, cars honking. All of them unaware that somewhere above, a foolish, broken girl had just left her soul in a stranger’s bed. 　　I walked fast, my mind looping through fragments of the night — his touch, his voice, that impossible glimmer in his eyes. 　　Maybe it had just been the light. Maybe I was drunker than I'd realized. 　　But then I heard it. 　　A sound. 　　Low. Deep. Animal. 　　It came from behind me, distant yet too close. My heart jumped to my throat. I turned — nothing but an empty street, sunlight spilling through the high-rises. 　　Still, the air felt alive, charged with static. 　　Something was watching me. 　　I clutched my purse tighter and started walking again, faster now, pretending not to hear the faint echo that followed. A growl swallowed by the wind. 　　My heart refused to slow down. My skin burned where his hands had been, my body thrumming with something I couldn't name. 　　I told myself it was just adrenaline. Just shame. 　　By the time I reached my apartment, my hands were still trembling. I locked the door behind me and pressed my forehead against the cool wood, trying to breathe. 　　One night. That's all it was supposed to be. 　　A mistake. A lapse in judgment. 　　But every nerve in my body disagreed. 　　Because even now, if I closed my eyes, I could still feel him — the warmth of his breath, the pulse of his heartbeat, the faint growl buried under his restraint. 　　And deep down, some reckless, secret part of me knew… 　　Whatever Lucius was, he wasn't done with me. 　　And I wasn't done with him either.God help me. 　　Claire's POV 　　I had rushed home earlier to shower, scrubbing myself three or four times, desperately trying to wash away any traces of last night’s mistake, pretending nothing had happened. After eating some breakfast at a nearby cafe, I headed to the company. I opened my phone to check messages and saw a text from Ethan. 　　[Claire, I'm sorry I hurt you last night. But I don't want to break up with you and I love you. If I had wanted to break up, I wouldn't have cheated. Can you forgive me?] 　　Oh my God, how shameless could Ethan be to say something like that? Is every guy just desire-driven, with zero heart involvement? I laughed bitterly and had no intention of responding. 　　I was halfway to the company when my phone rang. It was my mother, Susan. 　　"Oh, dear, today is your Uncle John's 60th birthday. They're having a banquet at the Conrad Hotel. You must come." 　　"No, Mom. I don't want to go." I knew that if I went to the banquet, I would definitely meet my father and his mistress. 　　Although I'm an adult,I can't forgive my father for cheating on my mother and abandoning both my sister and me. 　　When my mother was ill and needed money for treatment, I begged on my knees at his doorstep. Not only did he refuse to see me, but he also had his mistress chase me away.I had to take out huge loans to save my mother, as her part-time jobs didn't provide any health insurance coverage. Mom's condition is slightly better now, but she still needs expensive imported medicine and regular check-ups. 　　"Your Uncle John and Aunt Carter have always been very good to you,they asked for you to be there." 　　I sighed. When my father left us, I was barely ten years old. Without Uncle John and Aunt Carter's support, life for us would have been even more difficult than it was. During my mother's serious illness, they'd secretly slipped me money.They'd been there when we needed help the most. 　　"Okay," I finally conceded. "I'll go." 　　"Please don't get into any conflicts when you see your father," Susan pleaded. 　　"He won't cause me trouble, and I won't cause him any." I said. 　　Back then, my mother knelt on the ground and begged my father. As long as he did not get a divorce and gave her and her children a home, she could ignore the matter between him and that mistress. 　　But my ruthless father is still not satisfied. He not only divorced my mother and took all the money, but also only agreed to pay a pitiful amount of child support for me and my sister each month. My mother tried to sue him in court, but he had somehow hidden all his assets and kept crying poor to the judge. 　　After that... only we knew how hard the three of us had it. 　　"Mom, I have something to tell you. Ethan and I broke up." 　　"What? But Ethan is such a nice guy. I thought he was going to marry you." 　　I don't want to explain too much over the phone,"Mom. I need to get to work now. We'll talk about it later," I hung up the phone. 　　I came to the company just in time. I wasn't late. 　　When I got to my desk, my colleague, Joey Farmiga, walked over to me, a curious glint in her eyes. 　　"Oh, honey, did you finally sleep with Ethan last night?" she asked, leaning against my desk. 　　“How did you know I was with someone last night?” I asked. 　　She grinned,“I can smell it on you, that lingering scent from last night.” 　　I sniffed myself, only smelling my shower gel. "Your nose must be super sensitive." 　　Joey nudged my shoulder, "Come on, tell me about your first time!" 　　Joey and I had a good relationship, we always shared life details and gossip freely. 　　I gave her a wry smile. "Last night, I spent $150 on a stranger to help me forget that Ethan exists." 　　Joey gaped. "Wait—what? I thought last night was supposed to be the big proposal night?" 　　I exhaled slowly. "I found Ethan in bed with Emma." 　　Joey's expression darkened. “That witch.”“Shhh,” I whispered, glancing around the office. 　　Her tone dropped, but the fire in her eyes remained. "You're better off. At least you found out now instead of after he put a ring on your finger." 　　I gave a small smile. "That's what I'm telling myself." 　　"Still," she said, folding her arms, "$150? He better have been good." 　　I chuckled softly. "Let's just say it was memorable." 　　We often joked like this, pretending to be worldly and fearless. But deep down, neither of us were. Our hearts were more guarded than we liked to admit. 　　"By the way, there is a big news that our company has a new boss," Joey suddenly said. 　　My mood remained calm as a still lake. "I'm just a financial assistant," I shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me who the boss is." 　　"I've heard that the new CEO is the heir to the Watson Group.This Boss is young and handsome, but they say he's cold as ice, countless women have tried to get into his bed. Right now, all the women in the company want to catch a glimpse of this 'legendary' Boss!" Joey was getting more and more excited as she spoke. 　　"The variety is too high. We can't afford it." I was still very calm. I had no fantasy about this kind of man who had no possibility of development. 　　Before the conversation could continue, our supervisor, Gary, appeared at my desk. His expression was unreadable. 　　"Claire, come with me. Department heads and assistants are requested in the conference room. The new CEO is about to make his introduction." 　　Joey raised her brows at me and mouthed, Take pictures. 　　The conference room was already packed when we arrived. Being just an assistant, I found a seat in the corner, not particularly interested in the upcoming meeting. My mind drifted back to the man from this morning, his beautiful face contorted with anger when I'd thrown those $150 on the bed. I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. 　　I'd gone too far, I admitted to myself. But the contempt in his eyes when he'd looked at me, the way he'd reached for his wallet as if I were some woman he could just pay off... I'd only given him a taste of his own medicine! 　　A sudden burst of applause snapped me back to reality. The room had fallen into a respectful hush as a handsome man in an tailored black suit entered, flanked by executives. 　　I stared at that face for several long seconds, shock rendering me speechless. My jaw literally dropped open. 　　Why... was HE here? 　　Something had to be wrong with my eyes. I rubbed them, uncertain I was dreaming. 　　But when I looked again, there was no mistaking it. Standing at the front of the room, being introduced as our new CEO, was the very man I'd spent the night with,the man I'd thrown money at and insulted just hours ago. 　　Last night, I spent $150 to sleep with the new boss. 　　Oh my God! Is it still not too late to run away? 　　Claire's POV 　　I spent $150 on sleeping with a man I thought was a prostitute. I can't believe he's my new boss! 　　What a coincidence. I recalled what I said to the boss... 　　I said that his skills were not good enough, and I want him to sell at a lower price... 　　Oh God, why did those words ever leave my mouth? 　　If he recognizes me, will he fire me on the spot? I can't lose this job! My mother's medical bills and my sister's college tuition depend on my income. 　　Breathe, Claire, breathe! I commanded myself, trying to steady my racing heart. Despite my best efforts, my legs trembled beneath me. 　　I stole a careful glance toward the imposing figure at the head of the conference table, making sure he wasn't looking my way.Then I felt a little relieved. I lowered my head and covered half of my face with my long hair! 　　My only hope was that Lucius Watson,the Watson Group's CEO, had never looked at me closely enough to remember my face.The conference room was packed with employees. Surely he hadn't noticed me among so many faces. 　　Every second felt like an eternity as I sat rigid in my chair, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. 　　As the meeting came to an end, my worries appeared to be unnecessary. Lucius did not seem to remember me at all. I let out a sigh of relief. 　　When everyone began to leave, I seized my chance and slipped out among the crowd, keeping my head down. 　　The first thing I did when I returned to the office was to catch Joey and tell her what had happened. 　　Joey's eyes widened in shock. “Oh my gosh, Claire! You slept with him? Are you sure you're not mistaken him for someone else? Lucius Watson?" 　　"Stop it!" I hissed,"This isn't funny. Yes,It was him!I'm terrified he'll remember me, take revenge, and fire me. I have my mom and sister depending on me. I can't lose this job!" I was very crazy. 　　Joey gave me a meaningful look and said, "Girl, do you know how many women would want to be in your position?" 　　I don't care about what other women's wishes are. I regretted everything about last night. Why did I go to that bar to drown my sorrows? Why did I let myself be drawn to a stranger with such intense eyes? Why did I give him $150, thinking he was some high-end call boy? And dear God, why did I speak ill of his performance? 　　Joey shrugged. "Don't panic so much. He probably didn't even notice you. Guys like that have a different woman every weekend." 　　Before she could finish reassuring me,our manager's voice rang out."Claire, Mr. Watson wants to see you in his office. Now." 　　My heart plummeted to my stomach. This was it. I was about to be fired. 　　I walked toward his office with leaden feet.When I entered and saw him again, this time in a perfectly tailored suit rather than a hotel bathrobe. 　　Last time he was a call boy, now he is my new boss. 　　Life was always full of surprises. 　　Since I entered the office, he'd been looking through the documents, as though he hadn't noticed my arrival. I looked at his thick golden hair, noting how it seemed wilder somehow under the office lighting. 　　Taking a deep breath, I forced a pleasant tone: "Mr. Watson? You wanted to see me?" 　　He raised his head, and I quickly plastered on my most professional smile. I knew he was my boss, and I didn't want to make him angry. 　　Lucius's eyes raked over me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.His expression was unfriendly, filled with disdain. 　　I felt uncomfortable when he [contact] looked like a dangerous animal watching its prey. I tried to stay calm when he watched me. 　　Finally, he set down his pen and leaned back in his large leather chair. He said coldly, "I didn't expect our female employee to be so open. It's unexpected." 　　He proudly spoke to me. His words hurt my pride, and I forgot to be careful. 　　Before I could stop myself, I shot back, "It seems that your private life is also very rich, Mr. Watson." 　　I thought to myself, "We're almost the same. If I'm a dissolute woman, then you're also a playboy!" 　　The expression on Lucius's face became very ugly again. 　　Great. I'd just angered my boss again. 　　I quickly looked down. Although I was very happy, I still felt a little regretful.I had acted without thinking, and this might hurt my job at Watson Group. 　　He took another step forward, too close now. I could smell him , that same scent from the hotel room.Cold forest, heat. 　　Lucius reached into the inner pocket of his blazer. My heart stilled. 　　He pulled out a thick leather wallet, opened it, and withdrew three bills — two fifties, one crisp hundred. He placed them on the desk between us. 　　"Your performance," he said calmly, "was worth a little more than I thought." 　　I stared at the money.My throat burned. My chest heaved. I wanted to shout at him. But then I remembered my problems, my mom's hospital bills and my sister's school fees. So I tried to control my anger. 　　"Stay calm, Claire," I told myself. 　　I stepped forward, plucked the money from the desk with two fingers, and tucked it neatly into my purse. 　　I looked him straight in the eye and smiled. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Watson." 　　Then I turned on my heel and walked out, never letting him see the tremble in my hands. 　　I made it to the elevator before my legs buckled slightly. Pressed the button with too much force. 　　I gripped the railing inside the elevator as it descended, cold fury threading through my veins. 　　I wouldn't cry. Not for him. 　　Not again. 　　when I got back to my desk, Joey came to me right away. 　　"What did the boss want?" she asked with interest. 　　I thought for a moment. "He just wanted to tell me something about his job." 　　"And what else?" Joy asked, moving closer. 　　"Nothing else," I said. I didn't want to tell her the shameful truth. 　　"That's boring," Joy sighed. 　　"Did you want to hear something more interesting?" I asked lightly. 　　Joey smiled and moved her hair back. "I thought maybe he's developed a taste for... regular humans like you!And He was looking for you to continue the romantic relationship." 　　"I'm not interested," I said quickly.What a strange way to put it 'regular humans'? Aren't we all human? Though given Lucius Watson's billions, I suppose he does belong to a completely different social class. 　　"Not interested? Claire, If others know that you slept with Lucius Watson, how many people will be jealous of you?" Joy whispered, looking at his picture on her phone. 　　His picture had spread quickly among the female workers. The way they looked at it made me feel strange. 　　"Please keep this secret. I don't want people to talk about it," I said. 　　Joey asked eagerly, “What does it feel like to be that close with him?” 　　I tried to look calm. "Just normal. You can try yourself if you don't believe me." 　　"I wish I could," Joy said and went back to her desk. 　　To be honest, I was drunk that night and couldn't remember much. I only remembered his bright green eyes, strong muscles, and a strange sound he made. That's all. 　　A small part of me wished I could remember more. But it didn't matter now. It would never happen again, and I didn't want it to. Lucius Watson was just my boss. 　　The phone rang. It was a call from Susan. 　　I knew that she must have urged me to attend Uncle John's birthday party in the afternoon. 　　I couldn't help but take a deep breath when I thought of the scene that I might have to face... 　　Claire's POV 　　I took a personal day from work. 　　At one o'clock sharp, I arrived at the Conrad Hotel for Uncle John's sixtieth birthday celebration. I handed him the gift I'd carefully prepared and offered my polite birthday wishes, trying my best to ignore the tightness in my chest. 　　My father hadn't arrived yet — good. The thought of seeing him smiling beside that woman made me sick. 　　I planned to leave quietly after lunch, but Aunt Carter caught my arm just as I was about to slip away. 　　"Claire, don't go yet. There's another guest coming, someone very important!" 　　I forced a small smile. "Important? Who could that be?" 　　"Your Uncle John's friend's son," she said excitedly. "You'll never believe it — he's your company's new CEO! Lucius Watson!" 　　The glass in my hand nearly slipped. 　　"What?" 　　Of all the people in the world… him again. 　　Before I could recover from the shock, the banquet doors opened and there he was. Lucius, walking in with the confidence of a man who owned every inch of the room. 　　And beside him — my father's family. 　　As if fate enjoyed tormenting me, I spotted Ethan too. 　　My stomach twisted painfully. I wanted nothing more than to disappear. But Aunt Carter, blissfully unaware of the emotional minefield she'd just pushed me into, guided me toward the VIP table. 　　When I sat down, my pulse nearly stopped. 　　At the same table sat my father Ryan, his wife Connie Briden, her daughter Emma, Ethan, and Lucius. 　　The air itself seemed to thicken — heavy, suffocating, electric. 　　I wasn't sure if Aunt Carter had invited Ethan, still assuming we were together, or if Emma had dragged him along as her latest prize. 　　Connie sat across from me, elegance dripping from every smug gesture. Her designer gown sparkled under the chandelier.Beside her sat Emma, all curves and cosmetic perfection — thick lashes, pouty lips, an unnaturally sculpted face that screamed of expensive surgery. 　　And there he was — Ethan himself — sitting right next to her, as if nothing had ever happened. His arm casually resting on the back of her chair, his smirk as self-satisfied as ever. 　　Funny. Just this morning he'd texted me, claiming he still loved me. Yet here he was, playing the devoted boyfriend in public. 　　Men truly are artists at hypocrisy. 　　Lucius sat opposite me, composed and unreadable, his tailored black suit fitting him like armor. He didn't look at anyone. But I could feel the weight of his presence, the quiet command that seemed to ripple from him without a word. 　　I lowered my head, focusing on the expensive dishes I couldn't afford in another life. The food was exquisite, yet it tasted like ash. 　　Then my father's voice cut through the conversation, oily and obsequious. 　　"Oh, Emma," he said, his tone filled with forced warmth. "This is Mr. Lucius Watson. He's the CEO of the Watson Group now. Our company might have the chance to work with his in the future. You should… get acquainted." 　　Ryan Pierce — my father. The man who'd ruined our family and now sought profit from every connection, including the man who'd once ruined me. 　　Emma's laugh was sweet and practiced. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Watson. I hope we'll have the chance to work closely in the future." 　　She leaned forward, giving him a perfect view of her neckline. 　　Lucius didn't flinch. His gaze stayed level. His voice was polite but detached. "Pleasure." 　　For a fleeting second, his eyes flickered toward me — so quickly I could have imagined it. But the tension that rolled through my chest was real. 　　Emma didn't seem to notice. "It's too formal to call you 'Mr. Watson.' May I call you Lucius instead?" 　　Her tone dripped with sugar. I wanted to gag. Ethan looked delighted, like a man who enjoyed being close to power even if it came through his cheating partner's flirting. 　　Lucius said nothing. His expression didn't change. 　　"Lucius," Emma persisted, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. "Could I have your contact information? Strictly for business, of course." 　　"You can reach my secretary," he replied flatly. 　　The rejection hung in the air, sharp and merciless. 　　For a moment, his gaze slid toward me again. I looked away, my cheeks heating for reasons I didn't understand. Maybe I was imagining the pull — that strange, magnetic awareness that had haunted me since that night. 　　But before the awkwardness could fade, Connie's shrill voice sliced through the silence. 　　"Claire, you're being terribly rude. I'm your elder. Aren't you going to greet me?" 　　The audacity of that woman. 　　My head snapped up. I met her gaze squarely. "You're not my elder," I said evenly. "You're just the woman who ruined my family." 　　The table went still. 　　Lucius's eyes sharpened slightly, though his face remained impassive. 　　Connie gasped in mock offense and turned to my father. "Ryan, your daughter is out of control!" 　　My father's face darkened. "Claire, apologize to Connie right now!" 　　Of course. That was always his line. 　　No matter what happened, Connie was the victim, and I was the disgrace. 　　Ethan, ever the opportunist, decided to play moral judge. "Claire, that was uncalled for. You should apologize." 　　I laughed coldly. "Playing the dutiful future son-in-law already? How sweet." 　　He sneered. "No wonder our relationship never worked. You don't know when to shut your mouth." 　　My temper snapped. "It didn't work because you don't know how to keep your pants on — and Emma didn't know how to keep her legs closed." 　　Gasps rippled through the table. Emma's painted smile vanished. 　　I stood, my chair scraping sharply against the marble floor. "Tell me, why should I apologize? Because she's older? Because she stole my father, destroyed my mother's life, and expects me to bow to her?" 　　Connie shot to her feet, trembling with anger. "Ryan! She's humiliating me! Do something!" 　　My father's hand slammed the table. "Enough!" 　　Then came the crack. 　　The slap landed before I even saw it coming. 　　Pain exploded across my face. The room spun. I staggered, falling to my knees. 　　Before I could move, a sharp sting burst across my hand — Emma's heel, pressing down hard on my fingers.I looked up, fury burning through the dizziness.“You know what?” I spat, standing suddenly. “Forget all of you!” 　　Gasps filled the room. 　　I grabbed the nearest bowl of soup and hurled it straight at Ryan. The boiling liquid splashed across his suit. 　　He shouted in rage, but I was already moving. The next plate went flying — food splattering across Connie's chest, followed by another aimed squarely at Emma's designer dress. 　　The room erupted into chaos. 　　"Claire, stop it!" Uncle John shouted, rushing to me, but I barely heard him. 　　Connie was shrieking. Ryan was cursing. Emma was trying to wipe soup off her chest with a napkin that only made it worse. 　　I turned to my father, chest heaving. "You said you won't have a daughter like me? Good. Because I no longer have a father like you." 　　The words left my lips like fire. For the first time in my life, I felt no guilt saying them. 　　Freedom burned where pain used to be. 　　I walked away, trembling but unbroken. 　　Lucius's POV 　　He had remained silent through the entire scene, his gaze never leaving her. 　　The chaos around the table was just noise. What mattered was her. 　　The defiance in her eyes. The tremor in her hands. The way she stood her ground despite the pain. 　　Raven stirred inside him, restless. 　　She's ours. 　　Lucius's jaw tightened. No. 　　She's bleeding, the voice growled. They hurt what's ours. 　　His knuckles whitened. His wolf was closer to the surface than it had been in years. 　　But he said nothing. He couldn't— not here, not yet. 　　As she turned to leave, he caught one last look at her face — flushed, furious, alive. 　　And the truth settled deep within him. 　　He could keep denying it, but the bond had already formed. 　　She was his mate. 　　Even if she didn't know it yet.