Chapter 4

Julian's POV: Trouble In Paradise 

I glare at the laptop screen, my brows furrowing as I stare at the pale face of Clarke, my head of finance. As my chief financial officer, Clarke usually maintains an unshakeable, corporate composure, but right now, the panic in his posture is impossible to miss.

"Clarke, come again?" I say, leaning forward.

"Sir, our stock value just dropped three more points in the last fourty hours," Clarke repeats. He adjusts his glasses with a trembling finger. "The sell-off isn't slowing down. It’s accelerating."

"Wait," I say, my voice tightening. "Give me a minute."

I grab my phone off the desk, my thumb swipes the financial app to verify his words for myself. A cold knot forms in my gut as the red charts confirm the disaster unfolding in real-time. Three whole points. In less than three days. I swallow hard, my eyes narrow at the screen as millions of dollars in net worth vanish into thin air.

I put my phone away, and clear my throat. "Clarke, keep your eyes on it. Let me know the moment things improve."

"Okay, sir. Will do," Clarke replies quietly before ending the call.

I slump back into my chair. I take a deep breath to steady my racing pulse. There is no need to worry. The market fluctuates all the time. Look at Elon Musk. He was a trillionaire for a week, dropped back to billionaire status, and posted about it online. Volatility is just part of corporate business. There is no need to panic over a temporary market blip.

Yet, despite my rationalizations, my heart refuses to slow its frantic thumping. Three points in fourty hours isn't just a blip, it is a record, and a deeply terrifying one at that.

I call Frank Rushdie, my chief operating officer.

Frank answers on the second ring, his breath rushed and heavy as if he’s sprinting through a corridor. 

"I was about to call you too, Alpha Julian," he says without greeting. "I just got off the phone with several members of the board. They want a meeting ASAP."

"Shit," I mutter under my breath.

When the board gets thirsty, they circle like ruthless sharks. Some of them are powerful, high-ranking elders in my pack, while others are influential human investors and outside Alpha allies. If our corporate standing plummets, it won't just affect my bank account. It could directly compromise my Alpha status across the territory.

"Okay, Frank," I say, struggling to project control. "I'm watching the situation too. I'm confident it's just the market reacting to temporary speculation."

Frank hesitates on the line, the silence stretches uncomfortably long. "Our guys have been making the wrong calls for days now, Julian. I spoke with the senior analysts. We might need a whole overhaul of that entire section."

"Shit."

I rub my sleep-starved eyes with my thumb. "You don't say."

"It's almost like they don't know what they're doing anymore," Frank continues, his tone grim. "Like the brain of the analytical division just vanished overnight. We should start there, Alpha Julian."

"Okay, let's meet," I say, sitting up straight. "When?"

"I'm getting on a private jet right now," Frank replies over the roar of jet engines in the background. "I'll see you in two hours."

"Perfect." 

I end the call and slump back in my chair, staring up at the high ceiling of my study. 

This isn't real. 

Life was supposed to get better when Trinity left. When I finally pushed her out of my life, everything felt lighter for a fleeting moment. But then, suddenly, things stopped being better and started getting rapidly worse.

No, come on, Julian. 

Not life. It's just a downturn in business. I am certain that once Frank Rushdie and I get down to the office and strip away the dead weight, we'll find the problem and solve it. It’s only investor confidence that's been affected. They're just blindly dumping my company's stocks out of panic. 

But what's causing the panic? That's what I need to find out. 

The door to my study suddenly opens. Vivian pokes her head in, her face grave.

"Julian, you need to come now," she says, her voice trembling.

"What is it?"

"It's Lily. She's not looking good," she says.

I jump out of my chair and brush past her as I sprint down the hallway toward my daughter's bedroom. I push the door open and freeze. Lily is lying in bed, shivering violently under the duvet, the sheets pulled all the way up to her chin.

"D-dad, I . . . I-I'm cold," she stutters, her small teeth chattering together so loudly I can hear them from the door.

I sit on the bed beside her and place the back of my hand on her forehead. I wince. Her skin is freezing to the touch and clammy with sweat. Oh God. She's losing red blood cells again. Her leukemia is acting up with a vengeance.

I look at Vivian, who is standing frozen near the door. "Get her medicine!"

"B-bitter m-medicine?" Lily whimpers. 

I stroke her hair as my heart breaks into pieces. "Baby, it's bitter medicine for now, okay? I need you to be okay first. I promise I'll get you something better soon."

Lily begins to cry softly, her cheeks pale, her lips dry and cracked. Her small chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow gasps.

I look back over my shoulder to see that Vivian hasn't moved an inch. "Viv, do as I say!"

Vivian bites her lip, panic filling her eyes. "Julian, we don't have enough."

"What?"

I get up, and both of us rush out of the room and down the corridor into the medicine room—a room lined with shelves of pharmaceutical supplies. The most important section is a locked shelf holding tiny clear glass vials. 

My heart stops. 

Every single vial is empty, sitting in neat rows. Only one vial remains, and it is almost exhausted. There isn't even enough liquid inside to make up a full dose.

Shit.

Vivian wrings her hands nervously. "What are we going to do?"

I look at her, opening my mouth to answer, but no words come out. I stand there paralyzed. I genuinely do not know where to get a replenishment.

Vivian looks at me, her brow furled. "Did my sister tell you where she gets them?"

"She just got them," I reply, my face blistering. "I never asked."

The moment I say that aloud, I realize how unpardonably stupid I sound. More heat pools into my face, the shame and anger doing their thing. 

For four years, Trinity quietly brought this specialized black-market medicine home to keep our daughter alive, and I was so convinced I could easily handle everything without her that I never even bothered to ask for the supplier's name.

I stare down at the pitiful drop of liquid remaining in the vial. 

"I'll just give her this," I say, my voice small. "For now, at least. This should keep her safe for a day."

We rush back into the bedroom. Lily is gasping for air now, her wide eyes bulging as she fights for breath. Vivian lets out a horrified gasp. "Oh God, Julian! Quickly!"

With trembling hands, I bring the vial to my daughter's lips.

"Come on, baby, you need to take it," I encourage, holding her small shoulders.

"It's bitter," she whimpers, trying to pull away.

"I know, baby," I reply, my voice breaking. "But it will make you better. Come on, Lily."

She takes the medicine and instantly begins to gag as her body attempts to throw it up. I gently hold her chin up to force it down. 

"Easy, baby, easy," I urge gently.

Lily swallows the medicine, her small face contorts in disgust. But seconds later, her breathing slowly stabilizes. The shaking in her shoulders stop, her chest movements slow down. Gradually, a faint flush of color begins to return to her skin.

I leave her to rest. Back in the medicine room, I stare blankly at the empty vial on the counter. Vivian looks at me with wide, frightened eyes. 

"What are we going to do?"

I stare down at the empty glass in my hand. "I'll figure something out."

But as the words leave my lips, I know deep down that I don't believe a word of it.