Chapter 4: The Alpha's Secret

Chapter 4: The Alpha's Secrets

POV: Lucian Thorne (First-Person)

I woke up to sunlight.

It was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warm and golden, falling across the silk sheets like honey. For one blissful second, I forgot where I was. I forgot the heat. I forgot the humiliation. I forgot that my life had been stolen from me.

Then I smelled sandalwood.

I sat up slowly. The room was empty. The spot on the bed where Damien had sat last night was cold. He had left at some point while I was asleep. I didn't know when. I didn't know if I cared.

I looked down at myself. I was still wearing his black t-shirt. It smelled like him. I hated that I noticed.

On the nightstand, there was a glass of water, two white pills, and a note.

For the fever. Eat something. I'll be back by noon.

No signature. No explanation. Just commands.

I swallowed the pills dry and swung my legs out of bed. My body still ached, but the fire was gone. The heat had faded to a dull warmth in my chest. For now, I was lucid. I was myself.

I needed to find a phone. I needed to call my lawyer. I needed to figure out what Tristan had done and how to undo it.

I walked out of the bedroom and stopped dead.

The penthouse was enormous. The living room alone was bigger than my entire apartment had been. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Black leather sofas. A kitchen that looked like it belonged in a restaurant.

And on the dining table, there was a spread of food. Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Fresh fruit. Coffee. More food than one person could eat.

Next to the food was a black shopping bag with a gold logo. I recognized the brand. It was one of the most expensive boutiques in the city.

I opened the bag. Inside was a full outfit. Dark jeans. A black cashmere sweater. A leather jacket. All in my size. All perfectly tailored.

There was also a new phone. Still in the box. A top-of-the-line model.

I stared at the bag for a long moment. Then I laughed. It was a bitter, hollow sound.

Damien Cross was buying my silence.

I pulled on the clothes. They fit perfectly. Of course they did. He had probably measured me while I was unconscious. The thought should have disgusted me. Instead, it sent a strange shiver down my spine.

I picked up the phone and turned it on. It was already activated. Already connected. Already loaded with one contact.

Damien Cross.

I didn't call him. I called my lawyer instead.

The line rang three times before a cold voice answered.

"Thorne Industries legal department."

"This is Lucian Thorne," I said. "I need to speak with Mr. Barrett immediately."

There was a pause. Then the voice said, "Mr. Thorne, I'm afraid Mr. Barrett no longer represents you."

"What?"

"Your brother—excuse me, your step-brother, Mr. Tristan Thorne—has terminated your legal representation effective immediately. All of your accounts have been frozen. All of your assets have been seized. As of this morning, you are no longer affiliated with Thorne Industries in any capacity."

The line went dead.

I stood there, the phone pressed to my ear, listening to the silence. The room spun. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself.

Tristan had moved fast. Too fast. He had been planning this for months. Maybe years. And I had been too blind to see it.

The front door opened.

Damien walked in, his arms full of more shopping bags. He stopped when he saw my face.

"What happened?" he asked.

"My lawyer," I said, my voice hollow. "Tristan fired him. Froze everything. I have nothing."

Damien set the bags down on the counter. His expression was calm. Too calm.

"I know," he said.

I looked up sharply. "You know?"

"I got a call this morning. Your step-brother is already making moves. He's been in contact with my board, trying to convince them to sever ties with Cross Industries because of my... association with you."

I stared at him. "Your board?"

Damien walked over to me. He stopped just inches away. He reached out and straightened the collar of my new jacket.

"Lucian, there's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you three months ago."

My heart was pounding. "What?"

"Your second differentiation," he said quietly. "It wasn't natural."

The words hung in the air. I felt like I had been punched in the chest.

"What do you mean?" I whispered.

"I had my team run tests on your blood. The sample you left at the clinic. There were traces of a compound called X-17. It's a rare chemical. Illegal. It forces a second differentiation in Alphas. It turns them into Omegas."

I took a step back. My hands were shaking.

"You're saying someone did this to me?"

"I'm saying someone has been poisoning you for months," Damien said. "Someone in your family. Someone who wanted you out of the way."

Vanessa. Tristan. My father.

The faces flashed through my mind. The cold looks. The whispered conversations. The way they had all seemed so relieved when I started getting sick.

"Vanessa," I breathed. "It was Vanessa. She's been cooking for me. She always insisted on making my meals herself."

Damien nodded slowly. "I had my suspicions. Now I have proof."

He walked over to a laptop on the coffee table and opened it. He turned the screen toward me.

On the screen was a file. A photograph of a woman I recognized. My step-mother, Vanessa, standing in a dark alleyway, handing a thick envelope to a man in a lab coat.

"This was taken two weeks ago," Damien said. "My team has been tracking the source of the X-17 compound. It leads back to a black-market chemist who has been paid three million dollars. Paid by Vanessa Thorne."

I stared at the photograph. My hands were cold. My blood was ice.

She had done this to me. She had turned me into this. She had destroyed my life.

And she had smiled at me every single morning while she did it.

"I'm going to kill her," I said. My voice was calm. Eerily calm.

"No," Damien said. "You're going to destroy her. There's a difference."

Before I could respond, the front door slammed open.

Seraphina stormed in. Her red hair was wild. Her eyes were blazing. She was holding a thick white envelope in her hand.

"You," she spat, pointing at me. "You did this."

"I did what?" I asked, my voice flat.

She threw the envelope at my feet. It landed with a heavy thud.

"I got a call this morning," she said. "From my lawyers. Damien has filed to void our engagement contract. He's citing emotional infidelity and breach of agreement."

She turned to Damien. Her face was twisted with rage.

"You can't do this," she said. "Our families have been aligned for years. The contract is ironclad."

"Nothing is ironclad," Damien said calmly. "Not when I have proof that you've been funneling company money into your personal accounts. The contract is void. The engagement is over."

Seraphina's face went pale. Then red. Then pale again.

"You'll regret this," she whispered. "Both of you."

She turned and walked out. The door slammed behind her.

I looked at Damien. He was watching the door. His expression was unreadable.

"You planned this," I said. "You knew she was stealing from you. You just needed a reason."

"I had a reason," Damien said, turning to look at me. "You."

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to feel. Everything was spinning out of control.

I turned away and walked toward the windows. The city stretched out below me, cold and indifferent. Everything I had built was gone. Everything I had known was a lie.

"Lucian," Damien said softly behind me.

"Don't," I said. "Just... don't."

I heard him walk away. A door closed somewhere in the penthouse.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the city. Then I turned back to the laptop. The file was still open. The photograph of Vanessa was still on the screen.

Something caught my eye. In the bottom corner of the screen, there was another file. Hidden. Minimized.

I clicked on it.

It was a photograph. A different one. It showed a group of people at a party. A gala. The Cross Industries annual gala. The night I had been drugged.

In the background, barely visible, was a face I recognized. My father. Harrison Thorne.

He was standing in the corner, talking to a man in a black mask. The same man who had drugged me.

My father had been there, had watched and had let it happen. I stared at the screen, my heart turning to stone. The door opened behind me and Damien walked back in.

"I need to ask you something," he said.

I didn't turn around. I just stared at the photograph. "Did you know?" I asked.

"Know what?"

"That my father was there that night. At the gala. Did you know?"

Damien was silent. I turned to face him. His gray eyes were full of something I couldn't name.

"Did you know?" I repeated.

Damien took a slow breath. Then he nodded. "Yes," he said. "I knew."

End of Chapter 4.