Chapter 23 Chapter 23
The office buzzed with quiet whispers that morning. Fingers flew across keyboards, coffee cups clinked, and screens reflected faces pretending to be focused on work—but everyone knew. The gossip had spread like wildfire.
Mr. West and his secretary.
It had only been a week, but in the world of the rich and restless, rumours didn’t need oxygen—they burned on their own.
Zarlia could feel the stares when she stepped into the elevator, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Her reflection in the elevator’s golden doors looked calm, confident even, but her heart was a drumbeat of nerves. She brushed her hair back and exhaled sharply.
Just breathe, Zarlia. You’ve been through worse.
When the elevator doors opened to the executive floor, the air felt thicker. The scent of expensive cologne and freshly printed documents filled the space. Stetson’s office door was slightly ajar, his deep voice rumbling inside as he finished a call. She hesitated, clutching the tray with his coffee.
Before she could knock, she overheard soft laughter from a group of junior employees near the corner office pantry.
“Did you see her this morning?” one whispered, biting back a grin.
“The shirt she wore looked just like Mr. West’s,” another giggled. “I’m telling you, they’re totally—”
“Shh! She might hear you.”
Zarlia’s face burned. Her fingers tightened around the coffee cup, nearly spilling it. She forced a polite smile and hurried past them, pretending not to hear, but their muffled laughter followed her into the elevator.
By the time she reached his office, her heart was pounding. She knocked gently.
“Come in,” came the familiar, low voice.
Stetson sat behind his desk, eyes scanning a contract. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the faint lines of veins beneath tanned skin. The morning light cut across his jaw, sharp and unyielding.
Zarlia stepped inside, placing the coffee on his desk. “Your coffee, Mr. West.”
He looked up briefly, his gaze softening for just a second before returning to the papers. “Thank you.”
She lingered. Her nerves buzzed, but she managed a small smile.She immediately went closer, grabbing a seat and pushed it close to him, completely disregarding work. “You never told me about your abilities,” she said lightly, breaking the silence.
He stilled. “What about them?”
“I don’t know… like, how they work. Or what you can do.” She knew werewolves are strong and they shift into wolves and are very fast from Mimi’s blog.
He didn’t look up. “It’s complicated.”
“So, explain it to me,” she urged, trying to sound curious rather than desperate.
He sighed, still flipping through documents. “Not now, Zarlia.”
She nodded, maybe he doesn’t want to answer those questions, so she’ll ask another. Her curiosity had to be fed.
“What about your family? The pack? Asher? Or Stacy?”, she jerked as he suddenly whipped his gaze towards her. It had that coldness in them again. “Zarlia! Not now!”
Her smile faltered. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” She folded her arms, a flicker of frustration passing through her chest. “Do you not trust me?”
That made him pause. His pen froze mid-note, but he didn’t respond. The silence was louder than words.
Before she could push further, Luke burst into the room. His usual composure was gone, replaced by urgency. “Sir, there’s a situation at the entrance.”
Stetson didn’t look up. “Then tell security to handle it. That’s why I pay them.”
Luke hesitated. “They, uh… say they’re Zarlia’s relatives.”
The words hit her like ice water.
Zarlia’s eyes widened. “What?”
She couldn’t really remember the last time she spoke to any relative. They made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with her, now they show up without warning like an uninvited guest
Luke nodded, uncomfortable. “They’re… causing a scene.” She didn’t wait for permission. “I—I’ll handle it.”
“Zarlia,” Stetson called, but she was already gone.
The elevator doors closed behind her, and he could feel her panic—sharp and stinging—through the mate bond. Asher stirred beneath his skin, a low growl rumbling in the back of Stetson’s mind.
They smell wrong.
“Not now,” Stetson muttered under his breath, clenching his jaw.
When Zarlia reached the ground floor, the sound of shouting met her ears. The receptionists stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Security guards hovered nearby, trying to calm a man and woman who looked like they’d walked straight out of a bad memory.
Her stomach dropped.
“Zarlia!” the woman shrieked the moment she saw her. “There you are!”
She froze. “Mom?”
Her father’s voice came next—booming, angry. “You just disappear, and this is where you’ve been? In some fancy glass tower?”
Zarlia held unto her self-control. They are just trying to get a raise out of her, she won’t let them hurt her anymore. They came come back into her life but her heart is completely closed shut and wouldn’t be willing to accommodate them anytime soon.
All eyes were on her. Even the guards shifted awkwardly.
“Can we talk?” her mother asked, a fake sweetness dripping from her tone. “Privately, dear?”
Zarlia hesitated, glancing toward the glass doors. Through them, she caught a glimpse of Stetson standing upstairs, visible from the balcony above. His expression was unreadable, but she could feel something—a pulse of anger, sadness, protectiveness—rising through the bond.
Her throat tightened. “Okay,” she whispered.
They walked to a small café down the street. The air felt colder now, sharper. Her parents sat across from her, eyes darting around as if calculating how much everything cost.
“What do you want?” she asked quietly. Whatever they wanted to say wasn’t going to change how things are.
Her mother sighed dramatically. “Your grandmother passed away.”
The words hit like a knife. Zarlia’s breath caught, her eyes stinging. “What? When?”. Her eyes looking at them in disbelief, her grandma was healthy when she overheard her parents talk and left the house a month ago.
Her father leaned back, indifferent. “Stroke. She was old. What could we do?”
“You could’ve taken her to the hospital!” Zarlia snapped, her voice breaking.
Her father waved a hand dismissively. “Hospitals cost money. You think we’re made of it?”, then his eyes narrowed at her as he leaned a bit closer. “But you…you hit the bank, my dear girl”
But she’s your mother, the words threatened to leave her lips.
Her chest tightened with rage. “She raised me when you wouldn’t! She was the only one who—”
“Watch your tone,” her mother hissed. “You think because you’re working for some rich man, you’re better than us?”
The waiter nearby froze, unsure whether to approach. People were beginning to stare. Her father leaned closer; voice laced with mock curiosity. “How did you even get that job? A CEO, huh? What did you do to please him?”
Zarlia’s heart stopped.
Please him? Of course, that’s what they thought. They always thought the worst of her. Even when she puts herself out there so they could get a better life, all she got was insults and betrayal.
Her sister—who had been silent till now—snorted. “Maybe she’s good at it. You know, like mother, like daughter.”
The air left her lungs. Heads turned. People whispered.
Her father smirked. “Don’t look so shocked, Zarlia. You think the world doesn’t know what kind of woman you are?”
Tears pricked her eyes, but she stood her ground. “Stop it.” He held her hands to her ears, trying to silence the murmuring, silence her parent’s harsh words—but it’s not working. It never worked.
“Or what? You’ll run back to that man and beg for protection?” her mother sneered. “You’ve always been pathetic.” All their expressions holding nothing but disgust and resentment—in fact, now that she realizes, they’ve always had that look on their face anytimethey see her, she just never noticed.
“I said stop it!”
“Face it, you’re still that same wretched girl! A nobody!”
The café went silent except for her heavy breathing. It was suffocating, she could hardly breathe, her lungs betraying her.
Her father smiled cruelly. “But if you come home, we can help you fix this. You bring us your salary—seventy percent—and maybe we’ll forgive you.”
Forgive? They said it like she did something wrong. Like she was the one to blame. She couldn’t believe she had been living in lies all this time.
The humiliation was unbearable. Eyes bored into her from every direction. She could barely breathe. She took a step back. “You’re not my family.”
Her mother’s face twisted. “So, you’ll turn your back on your blood?”
“You were never my blood,” Zarlia whispered. “You just used me.”
“Ungrateful brat!” her father roared, slamming his hand on the table. “You think that man of yours will save you? He’ll use you and throw you away like trash, just like everyone else! Just like your real parents did”
Zarlia’s lips trembled, but she said nothing. Not another word.
And then—she ran.
Her shoes pounded against the pavement, tears blurring the world around her. The city lights smeared into streaks of colour as she fled down the street, the echo of their words chasing her.
When she finally stopped, she was breathless, standing beneaththe unforgiving sunlight, it seems like the sun too was out to punish her.
She pressed her trembling hands to her face and let the sob break free. Inside her chest, the bond flared—the faint, invisible thread that tied her to Stetson. A whisper of warmth against her cold skin.
He felt it all.
Back in his office, Stetson’s knuckles were white around the edge of his desk. The papers in front of him blurred. He couldn’t stop thinking about the sad look in her eyes, how her legs trembled.
Asher’s growl filled his mind. “They hurt her. They made her cry.”
“I know,” he muttered, voice low, dangerous.
“We should make them pay.”
Stetson closed his eyes, jaw tightening until it ached. “Not yet.”
The Alpha inside him battled between control and fury. The image of Zarlia’s broken expression burned behind his eyes. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. Luke looked up from the far desk. “Sir?”
“Cancel my afternoon meetings,” Stetson said, already grabbing his coat.
“Where are you going?”
Stetson’s eyes darkened. “To find her.”