Chapter 1

Lily’s pov,

I held the breakfast tray carefully, the silver edges were cold against my palms, and my hands shook even though I tried to steady them as I pushed open the heavy oak door to Vincent’s study.

The room was just as it always was, dark wood, tall shelves filled with books I knew he never touched, leather chairs, and the sharp scent of his cologne. That scent always twisted something in my stomach and I hated that it did.

At nineteen, I was still the quiet stepsister, moving through his world like I didn’t belong there. I had entered the family through my mother’s marriage, carrying only a suitcase and a careful heart. The mansion never truly felt like home to me. I walked softly, spoke less, and tried not to be noticed. In a house built on power and control, I was the fragile piece that didn’t quite fit.

Vincent was different from everyone else. He hadn’t just inherited money. He had inherited power. His father had been the Alpha before him, feared and respected, and when he died, everything passed to Vincent, the company, the wealth, and the hidden rule over their kind. The bloodline carried strength, authority, and a beast that answered only to command. People listened when Vincent spoke. They lowered their eyes when he entered a room. Even grown men twice his age feared disappointing him.

As CEO, he ruled the business world with the same iron grip he used in the pack. His sharp suits hid a body built for violence, and his calm voice carried a warning beneath it. His grey eyes missed nothing. They judged, measured, and decided. No one got close to him unless he allowed it.

And then there was me.

I stood out in a way I never wanted to. I didn’t share their blood, their strength, or their confidence. I was smaller, softer, with wide eyes that always seemed unsure. My presence in the family felt temporary, like I could be erased at any moment. Servants whispered about me. Distant relatives looked at me with curiosity or quiet judgment. I was the outsider, the human girl among wolves.

As his stepsister, I existed in his shadow. I stayed out of his way, followed the rules, and reminded myself every day that I didn’t belong to his world of power and danger. But no matter how careful I was, Vincent always seemed aware of me—of where I stood, how I moved, how different I was.

And that awareness made my heart beat faster, not with excitement, but with fear.

Vincent sat behind his desk, his back straight, his suit perfect. His eyes were fixed on his laptop screen. He looked powerful, untouchable like he owned everything and everyone.

I swallowed and stepped inside, careful not to make noise.

“Vincent,” I said softly. “I brought you breakfast.” But there was no answer.

I moved closer and set the tray down gently. “You have a meeting soon. I thought you might..”

“Why are you here?” he said suddenly. His voice was cold and sharp, I froze.

“I… I just wanted to help,” I said. “You didn’t eat last night.”

Slowly, he looked up at me. His grey eyes locked onto mine, and my chest tightened. There was something dark and dangerous in his gaze.

“You don’t need to help me,” he said. “That’s not your place.”

“I know,” I whispered quickly. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

I reached for the tray again, but before I could lift it, he stood up.

The chair scraped loudly against the floor.

“Don’t move,” he said.

My breath caught. “Vincent…?”

He walked toward me, slow and controlled, like a predator that already knew its prey couldn’t escape. I backed up a step without thinking.

“You think you can walk into my space to bring me breakfast like a good little servant looking like that?” he said, his voice was rough and cold, filled with power. “And you expect nothing to happen?”

I never thought about what I was wearing before going into his study. But when he spoke about it, I suddenly realized that the lingerie I had worn the night before showed most of my body.

“I didn’t mean to,” I said, my voice shaking.

His hand grabbed my wrist, tight enough to make me gasp. The tray fell to the floor with a loud noise. Coffee spilled onto the Persian rug, and the muffins rolled away like forgotten toys.

“Vincent, you’re hurting me,” I said but he didn’t let go.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he then said quietly. “Coming in here, soft and innocent, acting like you don’t know.”

“I don’t know,” I cried. “I don’t understand you please, let me go.”

For a moment, he just stared at me. His breathing was heavy. There was a low sound in his chest that didn’t sound human at all.

“You should be afraid of me,” he said.

“I am Vincent,” I whispered. “why are you…” My words stopped when he pulled me hard against him. He felt like a wall of heat and muscle. I could feel how strong he was, like something wild barely held back.

“No, stop! This isn’t right!” I pushed against his chest, but my hands were weak against his broad body. He only laughed, a dark sound that made my spine tingle with fear.

He spun me around, slamming my hips against the desk, the edge digging into my belly. Papers scattered, a lamp wobbled, almost falling over. I twisted, trying to elbow him, my heart pounding in terror.

“Please, Vincent, we're family! Stepbrother and sister…don't do this!” Tears pricked my eyes, my meek nature crumbling under the fear.

His jaw tightened.

“Don’t say that word,” he snapped.

“Why?” I asked, tears forming in my eyes. “Because it reminds you?”

He paused then he pinned my arms behind my back with one massive hand, the other ripping at the hem of my simple lingerie.

The fabric tore easily, exposing my thighs to the cool air of the study. I kicked backward, my heel connecting with his shin, but it only made him growl louder, his free hand fisting in my hair to yank my head back.

“Resist all you want, Elena. It only makes it harder for you.”

“Please,” I whispered again.

He said something low and furious that I couldn’t fully hear, his breath hot against my ear as he lay right behind me. I whimpered, shaking my head, but my body betrayed a flicker of curiosity. It couldn't be. I was innocent, untouched, raised to be proper and pure.

“Vincent, no! I don't want this” But even as I cried out, he did not listen and made his way with me right there on the desk.

I don’t remember how long it was before I became fully aware again.

I was pressed against the desk, my body trembling, my heart racing. Everything felt wrong, my dress was wrinkled, my hair a mess, my face wet with tears I hadn’t noticed falling.

Vincent stepped back.

Just like that.

He straightened his clothes with calm hands, like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just been broken apart right in front of him.

I watched him, numb.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he said coldly.

I opened my mouth. “Vincent… I”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Don’t speak.”

He zipped up his jacket and turned away from me.

“Clean yourself up,” he said. “And leave my study.”

My chest ached. “Did I… did I mean anything to you?”

He paused for half a second.

Then, without looking at me, he said, “You were a mistake.”

That was worse than any scream.

I nodded slowly, even though it hurt to breathe.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I understand.”

I didn’t think he heard me.

I walked out of the study on shaking legs, my clothes torn, my heart shattered. Every step felt heavy, like I was dragging something dead behind me.

I had gone in as the quiet stepsister who just wanted to help and I came out feeling used, small, and painfully aware of something I didn’t want to admit.

Even as my heart broke, a part of me still wanted him to turn around and call my name.