Chapter 145 The Clash of Interests and Beliefs

Chapter 145 The Clash of Interests and Beliefs
Briar's POV

Harold had already risen from his chair, his body language making it clear the conversation was over.

"Alpha Castellan," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "Are you really content to watch Vincent focus all his attention on those old family enterprises while ignoring the innovative potential of North American wolf packs?"

Harold's footsteps stopped. He turned slowly, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied me with renewed interest.

I pressed forward, keeping my tone measured but passionate. "Hiding in Seattle's comfort zone means we'll never progress. If North American wolf pack enterprises don't actively compete for international capital, we'll always be looking up at those European century-old families."

Harold's expression shifted, the polite dismissal replaced by something harder to read. He didn't sit back down, but he didn't leave either.

"You've tried before, haven't you?" I said quietly. "And it didn't work out the way you hoped."

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. I'd struck a nerve.

"So we try a few times and fail," I continued, meeting his gaze steadily. "Does that mean we should let European wolf packs carve their prejudice and discrimination against North American enterprises into stone? Should we just accept that as our permanent place in the hierarchy?"

Harold moved back toward the table, his fingers trailing along the edge of his chair. He didn't sit, but he was listening now. Really listening.

"What is regional can become global," I said. "Self-admiration in isolation is never the best solution to any problem. You know that better than anyone."

Harold reached for a framed photograph on the side table. His fingers traced the edge as he stared at it, his expression distant. The photo showed a younger man who looked remarkably like Oscar.

"My brother Elias," Harold said finally, his voice rough. "He spent thirty years trying to break into European markets. Died five years ago, still bitter about every door slammed in his face."

The pain in his voice was raw and real. I understood now why he'd built walls around Castellan Ventures—it wasn't just about protecting his legacy, but protecting himself from the same humiliation that had broken his brother.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "But Alpha Castellan, don't you think your brother would want you to succeed where he couldn't? To prove that those European families were wrong?"

Harold set the photograph down carefully, his gaze shifting back to me. For a long moment, he simply looked at me, and I could see the war playing out behind his eyes—grief and caution battling against something that looked like hope.

"I need to think about this," he said finally. "Give me time to consider it properly."

It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either. I stood and extended my hand. "Thank you for hearing me out, Alpha Castellan."

His handshake was firm, his eyes still assessing. "Oscar was right about you. You're not what I expected."

I left the estate with my heart pounding, knowing I'd planted a seed but unsure if it would take root. Oscar was waiting by the car, his expression questioning.

"He didn't throw you out," Oscar observed as I slid into the passenger seat. "That's something."

"He's thinking about it," I said, buckling my seatbelt. "That's all I can ask for right now."

My phone rang as we pulled out of the driveway. Eric's name flashed on the screen.

"Vincent agreed to meet with you," Eric said without preamble. "His assistant called personally to set it up."

I frowned, switching the phone to my other ear. "This morning you said he wouldn't even consider a meeting. What changed?"

"I don't know. His assistant just said Vincent wanted to hear your pitch directly. Day after tomorrow, two o'clock."

---

Lucian's POV
The Night Before

"I don't understand why you're turning down your mentor's recommendation of Apex Bio-Solutions," Vincent said, swirling his drink. "It's a solid investment opportunity with proven returns."

I leaned back in my chair, choosing my words carefully. "Because Vance Botanicals is the kind of enterprise that makes money multiply. Apex is stable, predictable. Briar's company has unlimited growth potential."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Sterling Pharmaceuticals offers better profit margins. Why not push for that instead?"

"Because Sterling Pharmaceuticals is built on a foundation that won't last," I said bluntly. "Vance Botanicals is clean, innovative, and positioned for long-term success. That's where smart money goes."

Vincent studied me for a long moment, then smiled slightly. "You're very confident in Ms. Vance's abilities."

"I'm confident in her vision," I corrected. "And I think you will be too, once you meet with her."

"Then I'll arrange a meeting," Vincent said. "Let's see if she lives up to your expectations."

I drove home in the early hours of the morning, my mind already shifting to the next problem that needed handling. When I walked through the front door of Kincaid House, I found Daniel and his wife Susan clustered around Ash in the living room.

Susan was holding up a hand-knitted scarf and matching gloves, her expression bright with maternal enthusiasm. "Try them on, sweetheart. I made them especially for you."

Ash looked profoundly uncomfortable, his shoulders hunched as Susan fussed over him. He caught sight of me and his expression turned pleading.

"Daniel," I said quietly. "A word in the other room?"

Daniel's smile faltered. He kissed Susan's cheek and followed me into the study, closing the door behind him. I poured two glasses of water and handed him one.

"You're going to want to sit down for this," I said. "In a minute, you won't be in the mood for drinking anything."

Daniel's face went pale, but he took the glass and sat. I pulled out my phone and pressed play on the audio file I'd compiled.

The voices were distorted but clear enough. Spanish accents discussing cargo shipments from Mexico through the United States to Eastern Europe. References to customs officials being "handled." Mentions of timing and logistics that painted a damning picture.

"...and make sure Lucian doesn't find out about the African route..."

I stopped the recording. Daniel's hand was shaking, water sloshing in his glass.

"At first, I thought it was drug trafficking," I said conversationally. "The Mexico connection pointed that way. But then I started looking into the African operations more carefully."

I pulled up documents on my tablet and slid it across the desk. "Sterling family international aid foundations in Africa and the Middle East. Humanitarian supply flights using international aviation routes. Very noble, on the surface."

Daniel stared at the documents, his face ashen.

"But the final destinations are always in conflict zones," I continued. "And the cargo manifests never quite match up with what's actually being transported. It's not drugs, Daniel. It's weapons. My father is running an international arms trafficking operation, and you've been helping him cook the books to hide it."

"You can't prove any of this," Daniel said, but his voice was weak.

"Can't I?" I leaned forward. "You think Dominic won't throw you to the wolves the second he feels threatened? You think your position in this family means anything to him?"

Daniel set down his glass with a trembling hand. "What do you want?"

"I want you to understand your options," I said. "You can keep pretending you don't know what's happening. Wait for it all to collapse and take you down with it. Or you can make a different choice."

"What kind of choice?"

"The kind where you give me everything you have on the weapons trafficking," I said. "Cooperate fully with the investigation that's coming. There's a difference between cooking books and participating in international arms dealing, Daniel. One gets you jail time. The other gets you a deal."

Daniel buried his face in his hands. "He'll kill me."

"Only if he finds out before the authorities do," I said. "And if you're smart, you'll make sure that doesn't happen."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with the weight of the choice he had to make. Finally, Daniel stood, his movements mechanical.

"I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened," he said quietly.

"Good," I replied. "And I'm going to pretend we never met privately at all."

Daniel nodded and walked to the door.