Chapter 4 – The Invitation

While on the other side, inside the mansion on the hill, those same chains were already grinding against his bones. The halls held their breath.

The stone listened. And I – Edward...let the quiet break under my voice.

“Where is it?!”

The phone pressed hot against my ear.

“What do you mean the report isn’t ready?” My voice thundered across the line. “You’ve had two weeks!”

A weak voice stammered back, “S-Sir, the numbers from the overseas branch haven’t been compiled”

“I don’t want excuses,” I snapped. “I want results. My father built this empire with blood, and now you want to drag his name through the mud with incompetence?

Have it on my desk by tomorrow. No more excuses.”

I ended the call with a slam and threw the phone on the desk. My chest burned.

The young guard standing by the hearth stood like a startled rabbit.

I turned on him. “What are you staring at?”

“N-Nothing, Sir...” His head dropped, voice small.

“Then stop standing like a statue and get out of my sight before I find work that suits you better”

An older servant stepped forward, wringing his hands. “Sir, would you like tea...”

“I’d like silence,” I cut in, wheeling forward. “And competence. Neither of which I seem to get in this house.”

His eyes flicked toward the chair, quick and guilty. I saw it. Felt it. My hands curled into fists.

“Leave,” I said.

The door closed fast behind him, leaving only the echo of my own anger.

The door clicked. Silence fell again...not kind silence. Thick, stale silence that sits on your chest and dares you to breathe under it.

I tipped my head back and stared at the ceiling beams. Before, I didn’t need to lift a finger. My voice alone made men run.

My shadow alone made wolves bow. Now I needed wheels to cross a room and anger to cross a sentence. Every pitying look scraped me raw.

I looked at my legs...the weight of them under the blanket. My hands pressed down hard. I felt the blanket give...but nothing under it. No fire. No current. No answer.

I breathed out a bitter sound that tried to be a laugh. “I am still the Alpha,” I told the empty room. “I still lead...I still decide...”

The words tasted thin.

A knock touched the door like a shy fingertip. “Sir, do you require...”

“I require silence,” I snapped. “Walk away.”

Footsteps retreated quickly. The door stayed closed.

I stared at the desk in front of me. The phone sat there, silent, like it had swallowed my anger whole.

My father’s shadow pressed against my chest again. He had ruled without weakness.

He had led the pack at night, every run like thunder shaking the ground. I used to be at his side...strong, untouchable.

Now I sat in this chair. The wheels squeaked when I moved. The silence mocked me.

My hands gripped the rims until my palms stung. “No one sees me like this,” I whispered. “No one.”

The room held its breath.

At the bottom of the hill, iron bars rose high and black. I pulled my bag close and stopped in front of the gate.

The mansion loomed beyond it, cold and heavy, like it had been waiting for me all along.

A guard’s eyes followed me without blinking. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. My chest felt tight

I took a slow breath. “It’s just a job,” I told myself. “You need to eat...you need to pay rent...you need to finish school. Walk.”

The gravel under my shoes made that crunching sound that feels too loud. My bag strap bit into my shoulder.

The air around the walls felt colder than the street outside, like the stones kept their own weather.

A voice slid out from the shadows near the entry arch—smooth, warm, like a smile you don’t trust.

“New face, you must be here for work.”

My eyes jumped to him before my head did. He leaned against the stone like a painting that knew it was beautiful.

Sharp jaw...clean black shirt that sat perfectly on his shoulders...with a look that could command time to move.

I forced my gaze down. Not now. Not the time to dream about faces. My heart had no space for it. Fear took all the rooms.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m here to work.”

He pushed off the wall and came closer with that slow, easy walk that says I never rush because the world waits for me. His mouth curved.

“First days are fun,” he said. “You learn who smiles and who bites.”

“I can handle both,” I said, even though my palms were sweating.

“Good answer.” He looked me over once–not long...but enough. The look that measures. “What’s your name?”

“El–” I caught it and swallowed. “Elara.”

“Elara,” he repeated, tasting it like wine. “Welcome.” He gestured toward the front doors. “Don’t be late. Edward doesn’t like waiting.”

My feet moved because his hand had moved. My stomach moved because fear had.

We walked side by side across the stone. Close enough to hear the leather of his shoes talk to the floor. Close enough to smell his cologne do what it was paid to do.

Inside, the air changed. Old wood, polish, expensive silence. The kind of hush that makes you feel you must owe it money.

He glanced at me without turning his head. His smile didn’t leave his mouth. “Relax,” he said softly. “No one bites the new ones. Not until week two.”

“If that’s a joke, it’s a bad one.”

“Terrible,” he agreed...and somehow made it sound like he enjoyed that.

I kept walking. My chest felt tight. My skin felt too thin. Every wall held a piece of a history that hated mine.

My name is Elara... I said to him. Then Damien introduced himself.

I am Damien. "Names don’t matter much to me...except the ones that turn locks. The girl’s name–Elara–didn’t turn any lock I needed.

Still...pretty lock. Natural face. Eyes that looked like they wanted to be brave even while her hands gripped that bag like a lifeline.

Not my type. I like polish...ice in a glass...diamonds that know how to catch light on command. This one had a softness that belongs to bad neighborhoods and good hearts.

Good hearts get used. Good hearts always think they won’t be," i thought to myself.

I walked a half-step ahead and let the slow smile do its work. She watched the floor, not me. Smart...or scared. Maybe both.

“Don’t worry,” I said, still looking forward. “Sir is all bark today.”

“Dogs bark when they’re scared,” she said back, quick...as if the line surprised her the moment it left her.

I almost laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe they bark because everyone else is too quiet.”

We turned the corner where the rugs eat the sound of shoes. Portraits watched from the walls. The big one–the old Alpha–stared like a god who ran out of patience.

She saw it. Her shoulder tightened. The breath caught in her throat. She looked away so fast you’d think the paint could burn.