Lethia let out a huff of frustration, fidgeting with her thumb as Renar pulled the car out of the parking lot.
The trouble with Whisney’s methods was that they always left her to clean up the mess afterward.
"Renar... you know, what I did back there was... I—"
"Thank you," Renar cut her off. "Whatever your reason was... thank you for pulling me out of there. I could never have done it myself. She..."
Renar’s brows furrowed, his words catching thick in his throat as if speaking about that woman choked him.
"You don’t need to tell me about her. We all felt how infuriatingly awkward it was. That’s why I put on the act," Lethia said, her voice low but steady.
She exhaled a breath of relief that Renar ended up thanking her, but a flicker of curiosity still gnawed at her—why had he looked so cautious around that woman, when his discomfort was obvious?
"I wish that act would turn into reality soon," he said, his voice dropping into a soft, dangerous murmur as he smiled gently.
Lethia couldn’t find any words to answer him, so she didn’t.
Whatever past Renar had with that woman, whatever bloody tangled mess still clung to them, it wasn’t her problem.
She threw her gaze up toward the dark sky, hoping it could drown out the raging tide of emotions crashing madly inside her chest.
***
"So... hah... all the vials... of my frozen sperm are still... mhmm... in good... condition? Are you... sure?"
Zeran, who was laid back on the bench press, lifting a 200-pound barbell above him, asked Derreck, his secretary, between ragged breaths.
"Looks like it, sir. I asked them to send me a picture and... yeah, the seven vials are still there." Derreck answered, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
"You sound doubtful." Zeran racked the barbell back onto its station, sat up, and grabbed a towel in front of him.
He wiped down his arms, his muscles bulging under the sleeveless shirt that clung to his sweat-slicked body.
The blue veins along his arms stood out, pumping hard from the strain of lifting, making every inch of him look like a living, breathing beast.
Derreck tapped his shoes nervously, curling his lips in.
"Because... I know you wouldn’t just believe it from a picture, would you, sir? But the protocol says we can’t check on the vials unless you’re about to use them. So... I found another way to make sure they’re still sealed tight. And, well... I found something interesting."
Zeran shot him a look, lifting a brow high—an unspoken order to get to the point.
"Two days after we received the annual report about the vials’ condition, Miss Lindsay Turner showed up at IVF Temsor Werewolf Center claiming to be your fiancée, sir. The exact same day Miss Lethia did her IVF procedure."
Zeran smirked, impressed by how quickly Derreck’s mind worked despite his usual chatty behavior.
"I don’t think Lindsay is that reckless." Zeran still tried to doubt his secretary’s hypothesis.
"She surely isn’t, sir. All the legal traces about her visit are crystal clear, not even the dust would dare whisper behind her back. But... we should never underestimate the power of gossip janitors, who control all the dust that whispers."
Zeran stood up from the bench and walked over to the treadmill, starting a brisk walk to warm up.
A female maid who was bringing drinks and a plate of fruit snacks nearly tripped, her eyes glued to the muscles of Zeran’s thighs and calves tightening with each step on the treadmill.
Derreck shot the new maid a sharp glare, urging her to stay focused on her job and leave the gym immediately.
He wasn’t about to go through the hassle of finding a new maid every month because they either got fired for being too flirtatious or quit because they couldn’t focus on their work, too hypnotized by Zeran’s charm.
"Tell me about the fated mate test progress!"
"Ah, the test is still on the second phase of the fourth stage, sir. So we still need some time for the results."
"But that test won’t tell us who the baby’s father is, right?"
"Exactly, sir. You’ll need either a genetic werewolf test or rely on the parent-child bond, like you felt before."
"And what about what I asked regarding the ex-husband?"
"Just like you predicted, it’s all forged documents. We found her ex-gynecologist abroad, relaxing with a gigolo—"
Derreck paused, realizing he had said too much and quickly corrected himself.
"We found her ex-gynecologist abroad, and she admitted that Lana Ashcroft was the one who bribed her to sign those fake documents. But the interesting part is, Varrel Quinnel doesn’t know that the baby has 100% werewolf genetics. So it looks like Lana Ashcroft is the one who made the false claim and hid it from Varrel."
Zeran pressed the button on the treadmill to speed up his pace into a jog. His flat expression didn’t give Derreck any clue as to whether his boss was interested in the information or not—this was just how Zeran processed things. A certified poker face billionaire.
"You can go home," Zeran ordered, his pace increasing, running full force as if he were training for a fitness test.
Derreck quickly nodded, packing up his bag, thrilled that he could leave earlier than usual. But just as he reached the door, Zeran suddenly called out.
"Derreck, tell them I’ll be the guard of the second game."
Derreck furrowed his brows for a moment, then opened his mouth without making a sound, realizing what his boss meant.
"Ah, that’s why you’ve been training so hard these days. Alright, sir, I’ll tell them you’ll be in the game tomorrow."
The sound of pounding footsteps filled the private gym, echoing around as Zeran processed all the information Derreck had just thrown at him.
Though honestly, it all felt fucking pointless to him, because the bond he felt — and the way that woman, had slipped right through his time-freezing trap — screamed that she had a pull on him way too strong to ignore.
Fated mate? That was the only reason he’d ever agreed to freeze his sperm in the first place.
But why? How? And who the hell was responsible if it really was his sperm implanted in Lethia’s IVF process?
***