I stand beneath the imposing glass facade of the monolith, which boasts Braxton’s pack’s name - Shadow Mystic Enterprise. My heart pounds like a frightened creature as my hand reaches out to push open the polished doors that loom before me. Then my fingers, pale and delicate, tremble against the cold surface, reflecting my trepidation.
The atrium, adorned with shimmering chandeliers that cast a warm glow on the marble floors. As I tread across the pristine expanse, my rugged shoes emit a rhythmic soft thump, resonating through the hallowed space and amplifying the symphony of voices and the occasional shrill ring of phones.
I continue to tread my way in until I find myself standing before a gleaming floor-to-ceiling mirror. My reflection is a source of inner turmoil. I tug self-consciously at the hem of my charcoal-gray skirt, my fingers tracing the insecurities that’s nibbling my confidence. My hair has some loose strands falling from my messy bun, so I gather them between my fingers and tuck them behind my ears. And my eyes, though bright with determination, have a flicker of embarrassment since everyone here holds some poise and elegance while I do not.
A sigh leaves me as I remind myself that I’m not here to look for a job, I’m here to speak to this company’s CEO. Therefore, my appearance shouldn’t be a big deal, right?
I walk towards the receptionist behind the polished counter. Her voice is impatient as she looks up briefly. "Good morning. What can I help you with?"
“I came here to speak to Mr. Braxton Guttierrez," I reply.
The receptionist's eyes flick over my form, taking in my anxiety-laden demeanor. Her wolf in her droopy eyes smirks at me with pure mockery.
Oh yeah, to these werewolves, my unfashionable, cheap-looking clothes may not be as big of a deal than me being a human. Well, who’s to blame when they act and think superior to us? That’s how our society has labeled humans to be - we are the least significant being, way lesser than the ones they called Omegas.
After some time of silently scrutinizing me with her stare, the receptionist asks with an air of indifference, “Do you have a scheduled meeting with Mr. Guttierrez today?”
Oh s.hit! I didn’t know that that’s even a thing!
My gaze darts nervously from side to side, thinking that I have no choice but to spin a web of deception. Summoning my courage, I straighten my back and smoothen the fabric of my skirt, an armor of confidence that conceals the fluttering unease within.
“Yes. I have an appointment with him now, Saturday, 2 in the afternoon. It’s about the Children in Need Foundation’s tenth year anniversary," I say.
The receptionist jerks her crooked eyebrow at me, as if not buying my lie. Shen then looks at her computer screen and asks, “Your name?”
I swallow. I don’t know if this will work, but I hope once Braxton hears my name, he won’t deny me and won't ask his guards to toss me out of his building.
“Eloise Garcia. He hired me as his event coordinator.”
The receptionist examines me again from my quite wrinkled blouse to my quite messy hair. This time, her expression makes it obvious that she’s not trusting me. Luckily, instead of directly spitting out her thoughts, she moves her attention back to the computer screen.
The click-clacks of the keyboard as she searches for my name on their records are reciprocated by my thudding chest. I know she won’t find my name there. That’s why I’m already constructing another lie in my head.
“Your name isn’t here and there’s no scheduled appointment for Mr. Guttierrez at this time,” she says with a tinge of irritation.
“Uhm… maybe it wasn’t recorded properly by Mr. Guttierrez’s secretary or whoever is responsible for his schedules. Can you call him instead and let him know that Eloise Garcia is here?”
The creases in her brow deepen. Before she can say her apparent refusal, I quickly add,
“You see, the success of the tenth year anniversary of his foundation is very important to him and to me. I don’t wanna lose this chance to make my name become known for organizing it. And I’m sure you also don’t wanna get scolded or, worse, lose your…”
My word is cut off when the receptionist sharpens her stare at me while putting the telephone on her ear.
Seconds of silence unfurl, then her voice echoes again. “Good afternoon. I have here the Children in Need Foundation’s event coordinator, Eloise Garcia. She said she has a scheduled meeting with Mr. Guttierrez, but our records show none of that. Can you check, please?”
Another seconds of silence falls, which makes my heart thrum with both hope and agitation.
I have to get to Braxton no matter what! My Maddox’s illness won’t wait! He needs to be saved as soon as possible!
“That’s also what I said to her, but she’s insisting that there is.” The receptionist pulls the telephone slightly away from her ear and mouth, then looks at me with eyes brimming with a lucid suspicion. She says, “Mr. Guttierrez’s secretary said that they haven’t hired an event organizer yet.”
The temptation to weave another lie plus my desperation to succeed my mission as a mother overpower me once again.
“That’s the reason why Mr. Guttierrez’s secretary didn’t record my meeting with her boss today. It’s not that she forgot, it’s just that she didn’t know about me,” I say.
“But Miss…”
“Let me talk to Mr. Guttierrez himself so I can prove to you what I’m talking about. I have other clients aside from him. If I can’t meet him today, the earliest he could meet me next will be in a week, which will delay all the planning for the event. Therefore, I won’t leave unless it’s him who tells me to,” I interrupt, folding my arms over my chest.
The receptionist blows out a sigh, then rolls her eyes at me. If only I’m not insisting for a favor, I’ll do the same to her.
She places the telephone back to her ear, then says, “She’s very persistent.”
Afterwards, her shoulders and her facial lines suddenly relax a bit as she hands over the telephone to me.
I excitedly take the telephone from her and breathily say, “Hello?”
-[“Miss Garcia, right?”]-
A woman’s voice echoes. Her tone is soft compared to the receptionist.
“That’s right,” I say.
-[“I understand how important your job is to you, but please be advised that…”]-
Knowing that it’s rejection I’ll get, I also reject to allow myself to listen to her.
“If you won’t let me talk to Mr. Guttierrez now, I’ll void our contract. You can tell him to find another event organizer for his precious foundation.”
Tears of desperation start blurring my eyes. The once suspecting stare of the receptionist turns confused as she strains to make sense of the words echoing in her ears and the scene flashing before her eyes.
-[“Alright, stay on the line. I’ll try to connect him to you.”]-
Finally! The secretary’s response plucks out a huge thorn out my chest that I’m able to breathe properly again.
A moment later, as if the heavens themselves conspired to test my resolve, Braxton’s voice echoes through the telephone, a haunting melody of memories and emotions I’ve always wanted to bury deep within the recesses of my heart.
-[“Eloise, is that really you?”]-
He murmurs, his voice like a caress and a torment all at once. It’s a voice I had once adored, filled with laughter, tenderness, and promises of forever. But when he spoke my name, it felt like shards of broken glass piercing my soul, tearing at the fragile walls I had constructed to shield myself from the harsh reality that I’m not for him and he’s not for me.
I fight to steady my voice, to push back the flood of emotions threatening to consume me. Still, my voice cracks when I answer, “Yes, it’s me. Thank you for picking up this call.”
BRAXTON’S POV: Margie enters my office with agitation evident in the way she fidgets, her movements betraying the ladylike composure she typically exudes. A hint of frustration is tugged at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes are simmered with irritation. In her tight hand is the company’s telephone. When she notices that I’m looking at her from the corners of my eyes, she suddenly fakes a smile and softens the sharpness of her face to show an air of calm professionalism and a much refined demeanor. “Good afternoon, Alpha Braxton,” she says, extending the telephone to me. “There’s a phone call for you.” I transfer my gaze to my watch, which says quarter to 2 o’clock. Then my eyebrows twitch, before looking back at Margie. “I’m about to have a meeting with very important clients at two. Can that phone call wait after my meeting?” I ask. “Well,” Margie swallows, her face has a flush of uncertainty. “The woman said that you hired her as the event coordinator for the Children
“What’s his name? Where is he? Why didn’t you bring him with you?” There are so many more I wanna ask, but I stop myself and only choose what I consider are the most significant ones. Eloise raises her gaze back to me, then answers, “Maddox. That’s his name.” I’m waiting for more answers, but she grows silent and dips her head back down. “I wanna see him,” I say. Images of the child I never knew flit through my mind like an old, sepia-toned film. I try to imagine a face, a smile, a laughter that bear my reflection. I can’t fathom the love that has grown in my absence, nor the bond I've missed out on. Guilt claws at my conscience, accusing myself of negligence, of having forsaken a life that deservs my presence. More than that, a deep yearning wells up within me, compelling me to seek answers and embrace the newfound responsibility. I have to meet my child, to understand the connection that destiny has forged between us. Suddenly, tears well in Eloise’s eyes as she speaks t
Though it’s hard to temporarily set aside what I’ve discovered, I’ve got no choice but to do it. Sometimes I find solace in the art of momentarily setting aside a harsh reality. Like a weary traveler seeking refuge in an oasis, I have to allow myself a brief respite from the burdens of what had been. It’s best if I handle it later once I go home and meet dad. The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink when a middle-aged woman in a doctor’s white coat enters the room. Her shoulders flinch and so do her eyelids when she angles her sight at me. "Good afternoon!" she greets, her voice teetering between excitement and disbelief. “I’m not expecting that Mr. Braxton Guttierrez would be here!” I open my mouth, but am unable to say anything since Eloise precedes me from replying. She says, “He’s uhm… he’s here to help me finance my son’s surgery.” She pauses, swallows, then glances at me nervously. “I saw on TV earlier today that he’s the founder of the C
ELOISE’S POV: Braxton stands before me, his impeccable look is in contrast to the squalor that surrounds us. His expensive shoes stand out against the mud, and his tailored suit is out of place in this world of destitution. When our eyes meet, an awkward silence settles between us. I feel vulnerable and exposed, like a butterfly pinned to a board, analyzed and pitied, which forces me to lower my gaze, not wanting to bear the load of his judgment. "Eloise," he says softly, his voice emits sadness and guilt. "I never imagined you living like this." "Not all of us are destined for grandeur. Besides, ever since I was young, way before we met the first time, I was already poor. Well, not this poor, but still considered like that,” I reply, my voice betraying a hint of bitterness I’m trying to hide. Braxton takes a step closer, the distance between us closing like the gap between our past and present. His eyes soften, remorse is etching across his handsome features. But before the am
The air is filled with a sense of tranquility as I lay silently, my eyes fixed on the scene before me. The mattress cradles two figures in deep sleep. At one end, is my Maddox with tousled hair and a cherubic face, the embodiment of innocence and wonder. His chest rises and falls with each peaceful breath, and my heart swells with adoration. Next to him, there lay Braxton who’s entirely out of place in this world of faded grandeur. His handsomeness is undeniable, an arresting sight even in the simplicity of his sleep. The moonlight, filtering through the cracked window, plays upon his features like a painter's brush. His strong jawline, sculpted by years of living and experiencing, speaks of resilience and determination. His lips, parted ever so slightly, seem to hold the secrets of a thousand untold stories. Each breath he takes is a gentle whisper, in harmony with the stillness of the night. This is my family. The very ones I wanna spend the rest of my life with. And I won’t let fe
In the elegant walls of the opulent mansion, the morning sun radiates through the massive glass windows, its silken tendrils are at every ornate corner. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft, amber glow over the grandiose space. The air is thick with a sense of formality and exclusivity. As distress trembles through me, I clutch the tiny hand of my wide-eyed Maddox, who gazes curiously at the spectacle around him. At my side stands Braxton, the heir to the immense fortune amassed by the Mystic Shadow Pack. Not only does he look dashing in his tailored suit, but his eyes also showcase assurance as he gently squeezes my hand, seeking to offer comfort in the face of the impending ordeal. A hushed murmur ripples through Braxton's packmates, from the Omegas in uniforms to the Betas in formal attires, as the grand doors swing open. The patriarch of the Mystic Shadow Pack, Trayton Guttierrez, makes his imposing entrance. His silver hair gleams, and the lines etched on his face speak of wisdom a
TRAYTON’S POV: "Curse that fool of a son! How dare he taint our bloodline with a human girl?!" I seethe, my voice laced with fury. Shadow, who's inside me, stirs. His growls echoing in the recesses of my mind. -"He is your flesh and blood, a reflection of your lineage. It’s just right that you deny him the chance to choose a human mate. Braxton’s infatuation with that human is a threat to our pack's traditions and strength."- My eyes flash with anger, my pride clashing with my wolf's fierce loyalty to our kind. My fangs bare in defiance as I sneer. "He must marry a she-wolf, one who can carry on the legacy of our pack." Shadow’s response is equally vehement. -"A human cannot comprehend our world or our ways. They are weak, fleeting creatures whose hearts cannot hold the power of the moon."- I nod, a cruel satisfaction enveloping me. "Precisely. Their puny emotions will only lead my son astray from the path of strength and power." Shadow agrees with a savage eagerness. -
ELOISE’S POV: The grand elevator ascends with a hushed elegance, carrying me and my Maddox to a world I had only glimpsed a few times before. As the polished brass doors slide open with a gentle whisper, we step into a palatial penthouse that belongs to a realm far beyond our humble existence. The surrounding that greets us is overwhelming, a symphony of luxury orchestrated with impeccable taste. Marble floors glisten like shimmering pools beneath our feet, reflecting the golden glow of crystal chandeliers that adorn the soaring ceilings. Expansive windows frame a panoramic view of the city's glittering skyline, a sight that steals my Maddox’s breath away. I steady my own racing heart as we’re greeted by a uniformed woman, her demeanor admirably courteous. "Welcome, Ms. Garcia, Master Maddox," she says with a warm smile. "Alpha Braxton, we’ve been awaiting your arrival." “Thank you,” Braxton responds. With a mixture of excitement and anxiety, I follow the woman and Braxton de