Capítulo 3: The Wolf’s Offer

The hallway smelled of rain and dying gardenias. Seraphina paused outside the suite, her pulse still hammering from the confrontation with Julian.

Before she could take another step, a figure detached itself from the shadows near the service elevator. “Going somewhere, Ms.

Blackwood?” Gideon Sterling’s voice was a blade wrapped in velvet. He stepped into the dim light, his silver hair immaculate, his eyes glinting with something that wasn’t quite warmth.

Seraphina’s grip tightened on her clutch. She had met Gideon only once before, at a charity gala years ago, but his reputation as the family’s silent architect preceded him.

“I have no business with you,” she said, matching his cool tone. “On the contrary.

I believe we both want the same thing.” He gestured down the corridor. “Walk with me.” She didn’t move.

“And what is that?” “Julian’s complete and utter destruction.” The words hung between them. Seraphina studied him, searching for the lie.

“You’re his uncle.” “I’m the man who built the empire he’s been draining. My brother’s soft heart let him get away with embezzlement.

But fraud is the least of Julian’s sins.” Gideon took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I have records, account numbers, witness statements.

Everything you need to bury him. All I require is a partner with the will to use them.” Rain streaked the window at the end of the hall, casting liquid shadows across his face.

Seraphina felt the pull of the offer—it was precisely what she needed. But trusting a Sterling, any Sterling, was like petting a viper.

“What’s your price?” “No price. An exchange.” Gideon’s lips curved into a thin smile.

“I help you destroy Julian, and you help me remove Harrison from the board. Permanently.” Her father.

The name sent a chill through her. “My father is in the hospital.

He may not survive.” “Oh, he’ll survive. The old bastard has clung to power through worse.” Gideon’s expression shifted, something predatory flickering behind his eyes.

“But he won’t survive what I know. And what you should know, Seraphina.” She braced herself.

“Say it.” “It wasn’t an accident. The cliff.

The fall.” He let the pause stretch, watching her face. “Harrison pushed you.” The words hit like a physical blow.

Seraphina’s vision tunneled. One year of searching, of suspecting, of burying the horror deep—and now this confirmation from the most unlikely source.

“You’re lying,” she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction. “I have the proof.

Bank transfers, phone records, a witness who saw him at the estate that morning.” Gideon reached into his jacket and withdrew a slim envelope. “Read it.

Then decide.” Seraphina stared at the envelope as if it contained a live grenade. Her fingers trembled as she took it, the weight of it far heavier than paper.

Before she could respond, the elevator chimed. A young assistant burst out, breathless.

“Mr. Sterling!

Sir, you need to see this.” Gideon’s jaw tightened. “What now?” The assistant held up a tablet.

On the screen, a news alert with a photo of Peyton, radiant and tearful, standing behind a podium. The chyron read: BLACKWOOD HEIRESS TO ANNOUNCE PREGNANCY AT PRESS CONFERENCE.

Seraphina’s blood ran cold. A pregnancy.

Peyton was weaponizing motherhood to salvage her reputation—and to trap Julian in a new web of obligation. Gideon looked from the screen to Seraphina, and his smile returned, wolfish and cold.

“It seems the game just got more interesting. I suggest we adjourn to somewhere less...

public.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?” Seraphina hesitated for only a heartbeat.

Then she slipped the envelope into her clutch and took his arm, her mind already spinning with new calculations. The press conference was a challenge.

But it was also an opportunity. As they walked toward the private elevator, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the polished brass—a ghost in a ruined wedding gown, flanked by a wolf in Armani.

Somewhere in the hospital, her father lay recovering. And somewhere in this glittering city, Peyton was preparing to lie to the world.

Let them all think they were winning. The real war had just begun.

My Sister Stole My Fiancé — But He’s Not Even the Real Heir

My Sister Stole My Fiancé — But He’s Not Even the Real Heir

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