Chapter 3

Ingrid Bradford POV:

One hundred million dollars for the Ghost Healer. Genesis Defense Group wasn't even pretending to be subtle.

I sneered and rejected it.

Then I took three financial espionage contracts from overseas syndicates instead. Thirty minutes later, several million dollars slid into my offshore accounts. I closed the laptop, tucked it back into the hidden compartment of my bag, and lay down fully clothed on the hard cot.

At dawn, a lawnmower roared to life downstairs. My morning temper exploded. I rubbed my temples, splashed cold water on my face, changed into a clean black hoodie, and went down to the first-floor dining room.

Golden sunlight fell across the long oak table, which was loaded with rare steak, eggs, and pastries. Gold-plated cutlery sat beside bone china. No silver—never silver. In a werewolf pack, one scratch from pure silver could burn through your bloodline and destroy your inner wolf.

Barbara sat at the head of the table, cutting her egg. She didn't even lift her eyes when I walked in. She just raised her teacup and took a sip.

I pulled out an empty chair. Martha appeared out of nowhere and slammed her elbow into my arm.

"Oh, sorry." There wasn't a trace of apology in her voice. "This chair belongs to Miss Angeline. You can't sit here."

I scanned the table. There was no extra set of gold-plated cutlery anywhere.

"With an extra mouth appearing out of nowhere, the kitchen hasn't adjusted yet." Barbara dabbed her mouth with a linen napkin. "Ingrid, go get a few slices of toast from the back kitchen."

The maids standing along the wall ducked their heads, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. They were waiting for the wolfless outcast to slink away.

I kept my hands in my hoodie pockets and looked down at Barbara. "I thought Mrs. Fuentes at least knew basic table manners. Apparently I overestimated your upbringing."

Barbara's face darkened. She slammed her titanium knife and fork onto the table. "What kind of tone is that? I am your mother!"

"My mother is buried six feet under in Silver Creek." My voice was cold. "Should I bring her memorial tablet here so you can kowtow to her in person?"

Martha rushed forward, her finger almost touching my nose. "You ungrateful little brat! How dare you speak to the Madam like—"

My patience snapped. I grabbed her outstretched finger and wrenched it backward.

A crisp snap echoed through the dining room.

Martha let out a pig-like squeal and dropped to her knees, sweat soaking through her uniform as she convulsed. I snatched the pot of boiling black tea from the table and poured it straight over her face.

Martha screamed, clawing at her blistered skin and rolling on the floor. The other maids shrank back against the wallpaper, faces white with terror.

Barbara shoved her chair back with a screech and pointed a trembling finger at me. "You... you dare attack someone in this house!"

I pulled a white napkin from the table and wiped a few drops of tea from my knuckles. I tossed the dirty napkin onto Martha's head and looked at Barbara. "Since you can't teach your dog, I did it for you."

Before Barbara could scream, heavy footsteps came down the corridor. Derrick strode in tying his tie, then froze at the sight of Martha writhing on the rug. "What the hell are you going crazy about this early?"

Barbara immediately slumped against the table, tears welling in her eyes. "Derrick, Ingrid broke Martha's hand and cursed at me..."

Derrick marched up to me and raised his palm. My eyes narrowed, and my right hand slid into my pocket, gripping the hilt of my silver dagger.

His hand paused in midair, as if he wanted to ask something first. Barbara immediately spoke up softly, "Derrick, don't lower yourself to a child. She just came back. She doesn't know the rules..." She said "don't bother," but her eyes kept darting to Martha writhing on the floor.

Derrick's face turned darker, and his palm rose again.

Just then, the phone in his pocket vibrated wildly. He scowled, pulled it out, and the rage on his face froze into panic and sycophancy. He answered and bent toward the empty air.

"Yes, yes, yes! Mr. Wolfe's executive assistant? Good morning, sir!" His voice trembled with excitement.

I released the dagger and stepped back half a pace, watching his pathetic display.

When Derrick hung up, his grin stretched nearly to his ears. He completely ignored Martha groaning on the carpet. "Executives from Genesis Defense Group are coming to inspect our pack enterprises today!"

He whipped his head toward me, eyes vicious. "Important guests are coming. Get back to your room and don't come out to embarrass me! Angeline is the Fuentes daughter. What are you?"

I shrugged, turned toward the stairs, and let a cold smile touch my lips. Genesis Defense Group? It looked like Franklin Wolfe was getting desperate.