The Golden Trap

Beatrice's POV

Morning light wakes me and for a moment I forget where I am until I see the unfamiliar ceiling and remember everything. The auction, the sale, Vincent and Christopher, ten million dollars, six months in this cage.

Someone knocks on my door soft but persistent.

"Beatrice? Are you awake?" Christopher's voice carries worry like he expects to find me broken.

I pull on a robe that costs more than anything I have ever owned and open the door. Christopher stands there with coffee and dark circles under his eyes like he did not sleep either.

"Vincent wants to meet in an hour," he says, offering the mug. "Business discussion about tomorrow's event."

The coffee is perfect and that annoys me because I don't want Christopher to still remember how I take my coffee after ten years. "What kind of business discussion?"

"He wants to explain expectations for the gala: people to expect, what to say and not say." Christopher shifts uncomfortably. "Vincent likes everyone prepared."

"Prepared to be his show Luna?"

"Prepared to navigate a room full of people who will try to use you against him if you give them ammunition," Christopher corrects gently.

I drink my coffee and try to remember that Christopher thinks he is helping me, that in his mind this arrangement is rescue not imprisonment. "Where is the meeting?"

"His office, down the hall, last door."

"I can find it myself."

Christopher's face falls slightly but he nods. "Right, of course. I will be in my room if you need anything."

After he leaves I shower in a bathroom bigger than my old bedroom and dress in clothes someone bought without asking my preference. The closet has business clothes, evening gowns and casual wear, all in colors that probably look good on me and perfectly tailored.

I find Vincent's office exactly where Christopher said.   Vincent sits behind his desk reading three screens at once.

"Come in," he says without looking up. "Coffee?"

"Christopher already brought me some."

"Good, he is useful for that." Vincent closes two screens and finally looks at me. "You look better than last night, less shocked."

"I adapt quickly, three years with Desmond taught me that."

"Desmond is an idiot who wasted your potential," Vincent says bluntly, pulling up a file on his screen and turning it so I can see. "This is your pack management record, I had my people research you before the auction."

The file has everything:  financial reports I wrote; crisis resolutions I handled; disciplinary notes from pack elders; even photos of me at pack events looking competent while Desmond took credit.

"You’ve been running Crescent Moon Pack for three years while Desmond gambled and partied," Vincent continues. "You have exceptional analytical skills and crisis management ability, yet he called you defective to hide his own inadequacy. Correct?"

"Yeah," I admit, because lying seems pointless when Vincent already knows everything.

"Which means you are not defective, you’re wasted talent that he tried to bury." Vincent leans back in his chair. "I paid ten million for you, Beatrice. I want to know what I actually bought, and according to this file, I bought someone with skills I can use instead of just someone decorative."

"Use how?"

"I attend business functions four to six times weekly," Vincent says. "Most involve negotiations with people who are either idiots or sharks. I need someone who can stand next to me, understand what is actually being discussed, and provide useful analysis afterward instead of just looking pretty."

It sounds like being Luna again except with higher stakes and better food. "What if I disagree with your business decisions?"

"Then you tell me privately and we discuss it," Vincent says. "What you mustn't do is contradict me publicly or make me look weak to competitors. Can you manage that?"

"I managed it for three years with Desmond."

"Desmond was threatened by intelligence," Vincent says. "I’m not, I would rather work with someone smart than manage someone decorative. So here is my proposal: attend events with me, provide actual analysis on deals and negotiations. In  exchange I give you access to my business library and strategy sessions. You learn real corporate operations instead of just pack management, I get useful input instead of window dressing. Deal?"

I stare at him because this is not what I expected. "You wanna teach me?"

"I want to let you learn while being useful," Vincent corrects. "Do not romanticize it into mentorship, this is transactional. You provide value, I provide knowledge, we both benefit."

The honesty should feel insulting but instead it feels like solid ground. "What about Christopher, what is his actual role?"

"Christopher is security, he goes where you go outside this building," Vincent says. "He also thinks he’s  your protector, which is fine as long as it does not interfere with your usefulness to me."

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see Richard calling. I look at Vincent questioningly.

"One call, five minutes, I listen to every word," Vincent says. "If you say anything suggesting danger or coercion, you lose phone privileges permanently."

I answer the speaker. "Richard, it is Beatrice."

"Luna! Thank the moon goddess, Desmond has been telling everyone you are visiting family but April found the auction contract and people are asking questions."

"Tell them I needed time away after everything with Desmond," I say carefully while Vincent watches. "Tell them I will contact them when I can but it might be a while."

"Are you really safe?" Richard asks, lowering his voice. "Because if you are in danger, say the word and I will bring everyone to get you out."

I glance at Vincent who is watching me with those rude eyes. "I’m safe, Richard. Different than before but safe. Just take care of the pack for me, use the information I sent you, do not let Desmond destroy what we built."

"You have my word," Richard says. "But Beatrice, Desmond is acting strange, making calls to other packs asking about auction sales. I think he is trying to find out who bought you."

Vincent makes a gesture indicating time is up.

"I have to go," I tell Richard quickly. "Be careful around Desmond, don’t trust him with anything important. And Richard? Thank you for everything."

The call ends and Vincent nods once. "Good, you didn’t say anything that would force me to cut your communications. Now go practice your introduction story with Christopher, tomorrow you meet people who will smile while calculating how to use you against me."

I stand to leave and Vincent calls after me. "Beatrice, one more thing."

I turn back.

"Desmond was wrong about you," He mutters  "You are not defective or worthless, you are talented and you survived three years of his incompetence. Don’t let his lies follow you here."

The words should not affect me but they do, cracking something in my chest that I thought Desmond had destroyed completely. I nod because speaking would make my voice break, and I walk out before Vincent can see how much his clinical assessment of my worth actually matters.

Christopher waits in the hall looking worried. "How did it go?"

"Fine," I say. "He wants us to practice my cover story for tomorrow."

We spend the next hour rehearsing how we met through mutual business associates, keeping it vague and boring so no one asks follow-up questions. Christopher is patient and gentle and treats me like I might shatter, and I want to tell him I already shattered years ago and rebuilt myself into something harder but he would just look more worried.

That afternoon Desmond calls Vincent's office and Vincent puts it on speaker so I can hear.

"I want to renegotiate the sale," Desmond stated, sounding drunk already. "I will pay you back the ten million plus interest, just return Beatrice."

"No," Vincent says simply.

"I made a mistake selling her that cheap, she’s worth more than I thought."

"Yeah she is," Vincent agrees. "Which is why I am keeping her. The contract is binding, Desmond. She belongs to me now."

The call ends and Vincent looks at me. "What do you want me to do about him?"

The question surprises me. "What do you mean?"

"He will keep calling and making noise," Vincent says. "I can ignore him or I can destroy him publicly by releasing evidence of his pack mismanagement. Your choice."

I think about three years of humiliation, three years of being called defective while I held everything together, three years of Desmond taking credit for my work while destroying me in private.

"Destroy him," I say quietly.

Vincent nods once and picks up his phone to make calls that will ruin Desmond's reputation permanently, and I watch my former mate's world start burning from forty floors up in a penthouse I can’t leave. I should feel guilty but all I feel is tired.

That night I lie in my expensive bed listening to Vincent on business calls through the walls and Christopher's room is silent and I think about tomorrow when I will meet Vincent's dangerous associates and pretend to be his companion instead of his property.

Six months of this, six months of learning to be worth ten million dollars to people who see me as an investment. Six months of surviving two wolves who both want to own me in different ways.

Desmond destroyed me by making me believe I was worthless.

Vincent is rebuilding me by proving I have value.

I do not know which one is more dangerous yet, but I have six months to figure it out, and maybe by the end I will remember who I was before any of them tried to define me.