The rejection letter from Blackstone Development arrived on the same day I got evicted. I stared at the crisp white envelope in my hands, standing in the hallway of my soon-to-be-former apartment while my landlord's notice fluttered to the floor. Three years of architectural school, two years scraping by in New York's cutthroat design scene, and I couldn't even land an interview with the city's most prestigious firm. "Mr. Cole?" My landlord, Mrs. Chen, peered at me through her apartment door. "You have until Friday." "I know." I managed a tight smile. "I'll be out." Where I'd go, I had no idea. I trudged down four flights of stairs—the elevator had been broken for months—and pushed through the building's door into the February cold. My phone buzzed. Unknown number. Probably another debt collector. I'd been dodging calls from the hospital about Mom's final bills for weeks now. Against my better judgment, I answered. "Hello?" "Ethan Cole?" A woman's voice, crisp and professional. "This is Victoria Ashford from Ashford & Associates. I'm calling regarding the estate of Marcus Thornwood." I stopped walking. "I think you have the wrong number. I don't know anyone named—" "Mr. Thornwood was your biological father. He passed away three weeks ago." The sidewalk seemed to tilt beneath my feet. "My father died when I was two. Car accident." "That's what your mother told you, yes." A pause. "Mr. Cole, I understand this is shocking, but we need to meet. Today, if possible. There are... time-sensitive matters regarding your inheritance." "Inheritance?" I laughed, a bitter sound. "Lady, I don't know what kind of scam this is—" "Marcus Thornwood was the CEO of Thornwood Industries. His estate is valued at approximately eight billion dollars. You're his only heir." My knees actually buckled. I caught myself against a lamppost, my breath coming in short gasps. Eight billion. It had to be a joke. A scam. My mother had raised me alone in a one-bedroom apartment in Queens, working double shifts as a nurse until cancer took her last year. If she'd known a billionaire, if my father had been alive all this time... "Mr. Cole? Are you still there?" "Give me the address." --- Ashford & Associates occupied the top three floors of a building in Midtown that probably cost more than my entire neighborhood. I felt every thread of my worn jacket as I stepped into the marble lobby, past businessmen in suits that cost more than my monthly rent—back when I could pay rent. Victoria Ashford was waiting for me. Mid-forties, steel-gray suit, eyes that could dissect a balance sheet at fifty paces. She extended a perfectly manicured hand. "Mr. Cole. Thank you for coming so quickly." "You said eight billion dollars. I'd have crawled here on broken glass." The ghost of a smile touched her lips. "Follow me." Her office overlooked Central Park. I tried not to gawk as she gestured to a leather chair that probably cost more than my education. "I'll be direct," she said, settling behind her desk. "Marcus Thornwood was one of the most powerful men in New York. Thornwood Industries has holdings in real estate, technology, pharmaceutical research, and several other sectors. He built an empire from nothing." "And he was my father." The words felt foreign in my mouth. "Yes. He had a brief relationship with your mother, Sarah Cole, twenty-eight years ago. When she became pregnant, he... chose his existing family. His wife, Vivian, and their children—your half-siblings, Lucas and Miranda." Of course. Why would a billionaire choose the nurse from Queens when he already had a perfect family? Victoria slid a folder across the desk. "Three months ago, Mr. Thornwood was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. He had very little time. In his final weeks, he made... unusual arrangements." I opened the folder. The first document was a DNA test. My DNA, matched against samples from Marcus Thornwood. 99.9% probability of paternity. "He had me tested? How did he even—" "Mr. Thornwood was a man of considerable resources. He'd been monitoring you for years." A chill ran down my spine. "Monitoring me?" "He knew about your architectural achievements, your mother's death, your current financial situation. Everything." Victoria leaned forward. "Mr. Cole—Ethan—your father left you controlling interest in Thornwood Industries. Fifty-one percent of all shares. The estate, the company, the legacy—it's yours." The room spun. "Why? Why me? He ignored me my entire life, and now—" "I don't know his full reasoning. But I do know this: his other children are not pleased. Neither is his widow. They're contesting the will, naturally, but it's airtight. However..." She hesitated. "There are conditions." "Of course there are." "You must take an active role in the company. Attend board meetings, learn the business, prove yourself capable. You have ninety days to demonstrate competency, or the inheritance transfers to a trust controlled by Lucas Thornwood." "Ninety days to learn how to run an eight-billion-dollar empire." I laughed. "Is that all?" "There's one more thing." Victoria's expression shifted, something almost like concern flickering across her features. "Your father's business dealings were... complex. There are aspects of Thornwood Industries that aren't in any public record. Arrangements, partnerships, obligations that you'll need to understand and honor." "What kind of arrangements?" Before she could answer, the office door burst open. The woman who entered moved like violence wrapped in Valentino. Tall, dark hair pulled back severely, eyes that gleamed almost gold in the afternoon light. She wore a black suit that somehow made her look more dangerous than professional. "Victoria." Her voice was smoke and silk. "You didn't tell me the heir had arrived." "Ethan Cole, this is Selene Blackwood. She's... a business associate of your father's." Selene's eyes locked on mine, and something primal stirred in my gut. Something that felt like recognition, though I'd never seen her before in my life. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "So you're Marcus's bastard." She circled me slowly, predatory. "You don't look like much." "Thanks. You're a real charmer." Her lip curled. "Do you have any idea what you've inherited, little boy? What you've just become?" "Eight billion dollars and a corporate headache?" "He doesn't know." Selene turned to Victoria, something like disbelief in her voice. "Marcus left him everything, and he doesn't know." "Know what?" I stood, frustration boiling over. "I'm getting really tired of cryptic warnings. Someone want to tell me what the hell is actually going on?" Selene stepped closer, so close I could see flecks of amber in her eyes. Could smell something wild and earthy beneath her expensive perfume. "Tell me, Ethan Cole. Have you been feeling strange lately? Restless? Like something's crawling under your skin, trying to get out?" My blood went cold. Because yes, I had. For weeks now, especially at night. Dreams of running through forests I'd never seen, hunting prey I couldn't name. Waking up with my sheets shredded, my muscles aching like I'd run a marathon in my sleep. "How did you—" "Because you're not fully human." Selene's smile was all teeth. "Welcome to the family business, heir. Your father wasn't just a billionaire. He was the alpha of the largest werewolf pack on the East Coast." The world tilted sideways. "And now," she continued, "that makes you the alpha. Whether you survive it or not." ---