“You want me to be an secretary?” someone shot back, raising an eyebrow.
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Come on, Vivian’s a rockstar–smart, gorgeous, with a track record that’d make any pack leader drool. Toss
her into the job market, and headhunters would pounce like wolves on fresh meat.”
I just smiled, saying nothing.
Truth was, they were underestimating the headhunters‘ noses. About ten days ago, someone had called me, fishing for details about my career plans.
Word of me leaving Helixon hadn’t even leaked yet–their instincts were sharper than a hunter’s.
The team kept buzzing about it.
“Don’t be so narrow–minded. A secretary gig? It’s chief secretary for Hartley ‘s top dog! You’d rub shoulders with the pack’s elite. Play your cards right, and the sky’s the limit.”
“I heard about a she–wolf in another pack who started as a secretary, got promoted to Beta in a few years, and ended up bonded to the alpha. Talk about a fairy tale.”
“Hey, if that’s the deal, I’m applying.”
“What’s the Hartley heir even look like? Anyone seen him? Hot or not?”
“Nah, nobody’s seen him. The Hartley pack’s got four pups, but only the second daughter shows her face in
public. The other three are like ghosts.”
The chatter veered off into gossip, light and easy, but I couldn’t join in.
A bittersweet laugh escaped me.
Watching them gush about love felt like listening to cubs dream of flying–innocent, naive.
Love? I was done with that mess. Burnt out.
But career–wise? I could think about it.
Starting my own business was the plan, but my connections were all tied to Alpha Adrian.
Once I cut him loose, who’d give me the time of day?
I needed to polish my credentials.
Build something that wasn’t stained with his name.
That night, I called Sabrina Cross, a socialite who moved in the pack’s high circles, to dig into Hartley and its mysterious heir.
A lazy chuckle came through the phone.
“Snooping on other wolves? Not scared Alpha Adrian’ll get jealous? Snarl and bare his teeth like a territorial brute?”
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< Chapter 11
“Let him stew. I don’t care.”
“Hold up, darling,” Sabrina said, curiosity edging her voice.
“You two… you’re not really splitting, are you? After nine years?”
“Not yet,” I said, keeping it vague.
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No need to spill the details–not when the bond severance papers were still hidden in my drawer.
Sabrina got the hint and sighed.
“Guess the rumors are true. Nine years, and Alpha Adrian’s out here acting like a total dirtbag. I heard he let
Vanessa wear your mating necklace to the solstice feast. That’s low, even for him.”
Sabrina’s bluntness made me play up the pity card, just a little.
“Exactly. So I gotta look out for myself. Heard the Hartley heir’s hiring a secretary. I’m thinking about throwing my hat in.”
“Spill it are you after the wolf or the wealth?” she purred, her tone teasing.
“Wealth, hands down. I’m worshipping the money god from now on. Love’s a scam.”
Sabrina’s laugh was loud and sultry, like wind chimes in a storm.
“Love it. Leave it to me–I’ll get you a meeting with your money god. Hartley’s a tough nut, but I know his
sister. We’ll crack it.”
“Thanks.”
“Sit tight for good news.”
After hanging up, I sat at my computer, typing “Alpha Gideon Hartley” into the search bar.
The screen showed scant details–just a few mentions in pack alliance reports, a blurry photo from a decade
ago.
I muttered his name, wondering if I could get a read on this money god’s quirks beforehand.
Did he prefer spreadsheets or verbal updates?
Coffee black or with honey?
The study door creaked open.
Alpha Adrian walked in.
I snapped my laptop shut, my heart skipping a beat.
We had separate studies.
“Something up?” I asked, looking up, forcing my voice steady.
“Can’t I just drop by?” he said, but it sounded like a challenge, not a question.
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“…Sure, of course.” Once I’m gone, you can prance around naked in here for all I care.
Alpha Adrian’s eyes flicked to the laptop, suspicion glinting.
I’d closed it the second he walked in, clearly hiding something.
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t press.
He sank into my study’s recliner, the one I’d picked out because it reminded me of my grandmother’s cabin.
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“Wanted to give you a heads–up about something.”
“Go on.”
He paused.
“Vanessa wants to join your project department.”
I’d braced for bad news–another missed dinner, another “business trip” with Vanessa–but this hit like a
sucker punch.
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My face visibly chilled, the warmth draining from my cheeks.
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“The whole pack council’s full of departments, and she’s gotta crash my project team? The one I built from
scratch?”
Alpha Adrian bristled, his voice rising.
“Crash? She wants to make something of herself. That’s worth supporting.”
“Please,” I scoffed, my blood boiling.
“She’s the Quinn pack’s princess. Spoiled rotten, gets whatever she wants. She doesn’t want to ‘make
something of herself‘–she wants to rub my face in it.
”
“You’re not listening, Vivian. You quit. You’re not with Helixon anymore. The project department isn’t yours!”
he snapped, his alpha aura flaring, making the windows rattle.
My throat tightened, words stuck.
He was right.
Helixon was his.
The pack was his. What right did I have to argue?
I was just the mate he was growing tired of.
He was ready to hand over my hard–earned work to please his new fling, and I was powerless to stop it.
Seeing my reaction–defeat, maybe–Alpha Adrian softened his tone, reaching for me.
“Don’t think the worst of her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t mess things up. She’ll learn.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, my voice low, defeated.
I was exhausted.
Done caring.
What was the point?
Alpha Adrian’s eyes flashed with frustration.
“I’m telling you this so you won’t get mad–like you are now. I get it, you’ve got a grudge against Vanessa. You
don’t like her. But can’t you see my position? We’re in the middle of a deal with the Quinn pack. Should I tank
it just because you don’t like her? Risk the pack’s future?”
I was floored by his twisted logic.
What had I done wrong?
My mate was stolen, my career hijacked, and now I was supposed to bow to his side piece with a smile?
Congratulate her on taking my place?
A bitter laugh escaped me, a metallic tang rising in my throat–like I’d bitten my tongue
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Three days later, I went to the pack council for my handover.
Vanessa, decked out in Chanel, had moved into my office like a conquering queen.
She’d trashed the furniture, the decor–everything.
The hand–painted map of the pack’s territory I’d spent weeks on?
Ripped off the wall.
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The wall of trophies I’d earned–for closing the biggest deal in Helixon’s history, for leading the hunt that fed
the pack through winter?
Tossed in a garbage bin, crumpled like trash.
The project team was livid, their faces tight with anger.
They’d followed me through late nights, through Alpha Adrian’s rages, through every setback. Now, this.
They’d wondered who’d replace me.
Not someone better, fine–but a moron?
Word from the secretarial pool was Vanessa couldn’t even work a printer.
She spent her days snacking on imported chocolates, gaming on her phone, and downloading viruses that
crashed her computer.
Then she’d stormed into the secretarial office, swiped someone’s laptop, and deleted critical files for the
upcoming hunt.
The kicker?
Alpha Adrian fired the victim. Said she “should’ve been more careful with company property.”
No one could imagine the chaos she’d unleash in the project department.
In her–my–office, I started the handover, face blank.
No point in showing emotion
But as I picked up key files, Vanessa launched into a smug speech, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
“So, Vivian, how’s it feel?” she said, lounging in my chair, glaring down her nose at me.
“Lost your mate, lost your job. You worked your tail off for years, and I can take it all with a snap of my fingers. Know why? I’m high–born, you’re low–born. I’ve got wolves backing me–you’ve got nothing. In our world, pretty little nobodies like you are just toys for wolves to burn off steam. Thinking you could bond into
the Blackwood pack? Pathetic.”
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