Chapter 121
Chapter 121:
“You really think a wolfless Omega negotiated a fifty-million-dollar deal?” Sloane scoffed to another unseen employee, her tone dripping with toxic jealousy. “Please. She’s providing services far beyond hotel management. The Lycan King doesn’t care about her business acumen. He just needs a pure-blooded breeder to pop out an heir for his dynasty. She’s nothing but a glorified womb on a payroll p>
The words sliced through the air, landing squarely on the exact, bleeding nerve of my deepest insecurities. A breeder. A transaction. It was the very nightmare I had thrown in Kain’s face just hours ago.
But instead of the familiar, crushing weight of an Omega’s despair, a sudden glacial calm washed over me. I didn’t burst into the room. I didn’t scream. I simply lowered my hand and turned away. Sloane’s venom didn’t break me — it crystallized my resolve. I was going to carve the rot out of my Pack, piece by piece.
I walked into my Alpha office and shut the heavy mahogany door.
Harvey. My office. Now.
Less than a minute later, Harvey Hester slipped into the room, his scent laced with immediate, loyal attention. “Luna p>
“Bypass the standard HR protocols,” I ordered, settling behind my father’s massive desk. “Pull Sloane Prescott’s Pack file and her expense reports for the last twelve months. Bring them up on the secure server p>
ոеw 𝖼𝘩𝘢𝗽t𝗲𝗋s 𝖾vе𝘳y 𝗐еe𝗸 𝗈𝘯
Harvey didn’t ask questions. He moved to the terminal in the corner, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Moments later, the data populated on the large wall-mounted monitor.
I scanned the documents, my eyes narrowing. Sloane’s official title was “Special Advisor,” yet there were zero key performance indicators, no project deliverables, and no logged hours. Despite this, her quarterly performance reviews were flawless — every one signed and approved by my step-uncle, Vincent Parrish.
“Look at the expense accounts,” Harvey murmured, pointing at the screen.
The ledger was a blatant insult. Thousands of dollars spent at Fifth Avenue boutiques, luxury spas, and Michelin-starred restaurants, every receipt categorized as “Pack business entertainment” and authorized by Vincent’s executive signature.
“She’s not an employee,” I stated, the disgust heavy on my tongue. “She’s a mistress kept on the Pack’s payroll. Vincent is bleeding our widows’ and pups’ funds to finance his affair p>
“There’s more, Luna,” Harvey said, his jaw tightening. “I pulled the archived security footage from the executive corridor last month p>
He tapped a key, and a grainy black-and-white video began to play. The timestamp read a Tuesday afternoon. The footage showed Sloane glancing around the empty hallway before slipping into Vincent’s private lounge. Two minutes later, Vincent followed her inside and locked the door.
The video jumped forward exactly one hour.
The door opened. Vincent stepped out first, hastily adjusting his expensive tie and smoothing his suit jacket. Seconds later, Sloane emerged, running her fingers through her disheveled hair, a sickeningly satisfied smirk plastered across her face.
A low, vibrating growl rumbled from Harvey’s chest. His Inner Wolf was deeply offended by the blatant disrespect to the Pack. “This is irrefutable, Luna. We take this to the Pack Elders immediately. We can have Vincent stripped of his remaining shares today p>
“No,” I said softly, leaning back in my leather chair.
Harvey blinked, his growl cutting off in confusion. “But the evidence p>