Chapter 40 Thirty-Seven Million Reasons
[Nyx]
Lysander nodded grimly, his amber eyes scanning the documents. "First priority is securing this evidence somewhere safe. If Isla discovers what you've found—"
"I need to freeze Raymond's access before he can transfer more funds," I interrupted, my voice shaking slightly. "I can't let her continue bleeding my mother's legacy dry."
Lysander took my hand, his warm fingers steadying mine. The roughness of his calluses against my skin sent a shiver through me, a stark contrast to the cold rage I’d been nursing all day. "We'll stop her, Nyx. I'm with you every step of the way."
The certainty in his voice gave me strength I hadn't felt in years—a conviction that I wasn't alone in this fight. But as his thumb brushed over my knuckles, a different kind of heat stirred, one I couldn’t ignore. My gray-blue eyes flickered, likely flashing silver with the intensity of my emotions, and I caught the subtle shift in his scent—earthy, possessive, responding to mine.
I pulled my hand back, needing space to think, but the air between us crackled. "We should... focus on the plan," I said, my words steadier than I felt.
We outlined our strategy: back up all evidence, contact trustworthy board members, prepare to present everything to my father. Each step felt like reclaiming a piece of myself that had been dormant for too long. But every so often, my gaze drifted to Lysander—his strong jaw, the way his hands moved with purpose as he organized files, the memory of those same hands on my skin.
As night fell, I leaned against Lysander's shoulder, exhaustion mingling with fierce determination. The warmth of his body seeped into mine, a quiet comfort amidst the chaos. My scent must have shifted, carrying the bitter edge of anger and the softer undertone of something I wasn’t ready to admit.
"Isla thought I was just a drunk disappointment," I said quietly, my voice low and raw. "She had no idea what an economics major could do. It's time she learned just how dangerous I can be."
Next moning
After days of warming weather, winter suddenly returned with a vengeance. The temperature dropped sharply overnight, turning the promising spring morning into a bitter reminder that winter wasn't done with us yet.
"These should be organized chronologically," I murmured, my breath forming a small cloud in the chill of the room as I sorted the financial reports into neat stacks. "I want the pattern to be unmistakable, even to someone who doesn't understand business."
Lysander stood beside me, his presence steady and reassuring as he handed me the NorthStar incorporation documents. "You've built an airtight case, Nyx. There's no way they can explain away thirty-seven million dollars vanishing into an offshore account."
I nodded, taking a deep breath as I placed the final document—a lab report showing the substandard quality of the supposedly "premium" ingredients—on top of the stack. My hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from cold fury.
"I need to make this perfect," I said, more to myself than to him. "Isla has spent years crafting her image as the perfect Luna, the devoted wife and mother. When I expose her, I can't leave any room for doubt."
Lysander's warm hand covered mine, his callused palm rough against my skin. "You won't. The evidence speaks for itself."
I met his amber eyes, drawing strength from his confidence. Over the past weeks, he'd transformed from an unwanted husband into something I never expected to find in this house—an ally. Perhaps even more.
"We should present this to your father immediately," he suggested, his scent shifting to something protective and concerned.
I shook my head, a strategy already forming. "No. I need to control the environment. I want both of them together, but on my territory."
A small smile curved my lips as I reached for my phone. "It's time to invite my father and his beloved Luna to dinner."
---
I smoothed down the silver-gray dress I'd chosen carefully for the evening—elegant enough to show respect for my father's position, but with a predatory edge that matched the silver flecks in my eyes. My hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders, and I'd applied just enough makeup to emphasize the sharp angles of my face.
You look like a hunter preparing for the kill, Sylva whispered in my mind, approval radiating through our bond.
"That's exactly what I am tonight," I murmured, fastening my mother's moonstone bracelet around my wrist for courage.
Taking a deep breath, I dialed my father's private number.
"Nyx," he answered, surprise evident in his voice. "This is unexpected."
I softened my tone, infusing it with warmth I didn't feel. "Father, I was hoping you and Isla might join me for dinner tonight in the west wing. I have something important I'd like to discuss with you both."
"Is everything alright?" The note of concern in his voice almost made me falter. Almost.
"Everything's fine. Better than fine, actually." I paused deliberately. "Lysander and I have been... getting closer. I thought it would be nice to share some news with you privately, before making any announcements."
The lie tasted bitter, but I knew it would be irresistible to him. Karl Verdant, Alpha of Moonblade pack, had always wanted his daughters properly settled.
"That's wonderful news," he replied, genuine pleasure warming his voice. "We'd be delighted to join you. What time?"
"Seven o'clock? I've asked Ariel to prepare something special."
After confirming the details, I ended the call and turned to find Lysander leaning against the doorframe, watching me with an unreadable expression.
"You're terrifying when you're plotting," he said, but there was admiration in his voice.
I allowed myself a small, cold smile. "They've underestimated me for years. Tonight, they'll learn exactly how much that's going to cost them."