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But I still didn’t believe him. Until he handed it to me. I read it. My mother’s name that was engraved on the hard bound cover. Her letter in every pages about me, and my Dad. Her stories about her fights against the neighboring pack, and the invaders. Including her thoughts when she found out I was wolfless… My shoulder slumped down. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to refuse acknowledging it. But my mother’s penmanship, and Alice’s silence was more convincing than my faith. My mother knew I was wolfless, and in the following pages, she talked about how she wanted to give me everything when I grew up.

No family photos, paintings on the wall, nor rags. Alexander Phoenix Williams had a principle that family would come first, and he made sure to leave the office on time and spend time with us. He had a high ceiling symmetry dark-stained wood office and library at home he shared with Mom. My mother, Samantha collected all the books published by her publishing house plus the books she had when she was young. She was also a fantasy-adventure author under the pseudonym of Hanna Andry. Dad’s fingers were linked together on top of his desk without uttering a word.

Always aware. Downstairs, Mafungashe was already awake, sorting through Sipho’s old ledgers and files in the library. He had begun a careful investigation of his father’s empire, piecing together inconsistencies in accounts, unusual transfers, and whispers of accidents that had always been dismissed. The board managed the wealth efficiently, but the anomalies hinted at a subtle hand guiding events, invisible to all but those who looked carefully.