Three Wolfens Betrayed Me. One Siren Didn’t Chapter 14

Three Wolfens Betrayed Me. One Siren Didn’t Chapter 14

After that, everything changed.

I took Selina’s place.

Not that anyone gave it to me. I took it.

And I was better at it than she was. Maybe because I’d never needed to be liked. Maybe because I’d learned early that people’s hearts change.

Winfeld Group turned around. Sales up. Market share up. Turnover down.

The press called me a *sleeping giant*. A *steel CEO*.

I read those headlines over breakfast. Lorian across from me, drinking black coffee. “Mm,” he said.

Then his tail curled around my ankle under the table. “Eat more,” he said.

Lord Winfeld got better. Then worse. Then better again.

One evening, Lorian and I were in the corner office, watching the sun set over London. The sky was orange. The city lights blinked on below.

“Father’s old,” I said. “Getting sick is normal. Getting better all of a sudden – almost seems like the

calm before the storm.”

Lorian’s hands paused on my papers. Then he kept going.

“Need me to do anything?” he asked.

“No. Rest.”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at the crystal chandelier. Counting the refracted rainbows.

“Okay,” he said.

Lord Winfeld got sick again. Irregular heartbeat. Low blood pressure.

The doctors said it was *chronic anxiety.*

I didn’t do anything. I just didn’t stop his heart from doing what it wanted.

When I visited him – tubes everywhere, face gray, eyes bloodshot – I said, “Transfer your remaining shares to me.”

He exploded. Yelling. Hitting the bed.

Then he started coughing. Couldn’t breathe. Face purple. The heart monitor screeched.

“You don’t want the Winfeld legacy to die with Selina, do you?” I asked.

He glared at me.

I smiled. “Give me what I want. I’ll make sure she eats. Without me, she’s nothing. You know that.”

I stepped closer. “I’m your daughter too, Father. My blood is yours. Giving it to me – it’s still in the family.”

He stared at me for a long time. Something painful passed through his eyes.

Then he sank back into the pillows.

I smiled.

I worked. Lorian stayed nearby.

When I ignored him for too long, his tail would creep over and coil around my waist.

*So clingy.* I sighed and patted his tail.

“Human form, please,” I said. “Your siren form… I can’t handle it.”

He didn’t argue. The tail disappeared. Two cold arms wrapped around my waist instead.

I never asked about his other identities. The inheritance. The shares. I didn’t care. Just like at the airport, when Kane had said, “We had other names, you know,”* and I’d said, “I don’t want to

know.”*

Some pasts – the more you know, the more it hurts.

Some relationships – the clearer they are, the more fragile.

As for Lorian’s quiet maneuvering behind the scenes – the deals he closed, the alliances he forged I pretended not to know. But every once in a while, after he finished a big one, I’d give him a little reward. A bottle of his favorite cold water. A bundle of fresh lavender. A quiet, lingering kiss.

He never said thank you.

But his tail would tighten. Just a little. Scales against skin.

*I got it.*

Drake and Cole had been badly hurt. Lorian had done a number on them. After they recovered, they’d disappeared. But now they were back.

My assistant’s voice was careful. “Miss Winfeld, three men are downstairs. They say their names are Kane, Drake, and Cole…”

“Put them on.”

*”Evelyn?”* Cole’s voice. Strained. *”You’re back?”*

“Yes.”

*”Can we see you?”

“That was Drake.

“No time. No interest.”

*”Are you afraid your siren will get jealous?”* Kane’s voice. He’d used the word *afraid* to make it

sound like a joke.

I laughed. “His feelings don’t matter. I just don’t want to see you. I’m not your master anymore.”

*”Yes, you are!”* Cole’s voice went sharp. *”We never treated Selina as our master. We never – did anything with her. And if you’d just let us – we would have helped you escape

–

“You might still see me as your master,” I said. “But you stopped being mine a long time ago.”

I hung up.

No anger. No sadness. Just a fact.

Maybe a cruel fact to them. But I was just repeating a decision they’d made first.