FAYE
Helen’s hand lingered on mine for a moment before she sighed, the kind of sigh that carried the weight of something more than words.
“Alexander hasn’t taken any of my calls since he left my house yesterday,” she said quietly.” So I thought I should come and face him directly, before it gets out of hand. He’s always been
like this. Too sensitive. Even as a child.”
I shifted in my seat, a little awkward. Her tone wasn’t harsh…it was tender, almost regretful…but I still felt caught in a place that wasn’t entirely mine. This was between her and Alexander, mother and son. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but silence lingered, so I forced myself to answer.
“I’m sure he’ll come around,” I said softly. “It’s just disappointment. He could never hold a real grudge against you.”
Helen’s lips curved into a small smile, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “You sound certain.”
I returned a faint smile of my own, though inside I wasn’t sure I believed what I’d just said. Alexander’s temper wasn’t like other people’s. His silences weren’t like other people’s. When he shut down, it cut deeper than anger ever could.
But I also knew the softer side of him, the boy under.
Still, I caught something in her expression that told me this wasn’t the whole reason she’d come. The air shifted, heavier, as though she’d been circling something she hadn’t yet
named.
“When Alexander came to me yesterday,” Helen said at last, “he asked his questions, got his answer, and then left. He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t explain why. But I could feel it…the urgency behind his words. I knew it wasn’t idle curiosity.”
I held my breath, waiting.
Her eyes lifted to mine, and there was no lightness left in them now, only worry. “Irene explained everything to me. And from what I see, the storm I’ve always feared is already creeping in. And it’s going to be worse than it looks.”
I leaned in slightly, my voice careful. “You’re saying it’s worse than we think.”
Her lips pressed together before she gave a small, grave nod. “Yes. Worse than I ever let myself believe it could be.”
1/3
(Chapter 112
“What exactly do you mean by storm?” I asked, because I needed her to spell it out.
Claim
Helen exhaled softly, her gaze settling not on me but on some far memory. “For years, I feared that the child would one day grow to stake a claim. Not just for recognition, but for a share of everything Alexander has fought for. You see, Alexander inherited not only the Blackwell Alpha title but also the company… especially because he was older.”
The thought hit me like a bell. I had thought about it. Of course anyone would picture that somehow in a situation like this. If someone was coming to claim his birthright, it would have to be more than the right to be alpha of the pack.
“But Alexander is the Alpha,” I said, maybe too quickly, still trying to convince myself. “He’s his father’s acknowledged heir. Marcus…he wasn’t. How could he possibly-”
Helen cut me off gently. “Because blood matters in ways politics cannot erase. In the company, the name Blackwell is as much currency as capital. Marcus has it too. And if he comes forward, he could drag Alexander into a public battle that tarnishes everything. Do you
see?”
I did. More than I wanted to.
“And in the pack?” I whispered.
Her eyes softened, but the weight in them only deepened. “In the pack, legacy is not simply about who leads now. It is about continuity. Strength passed down, secured by heirs. And that, my dear, is where you come in.”
I just sat there, listening.
She went on, steady as if she had rehearsed this. “Alexander needs an heir.”
I froze for a moment. What did she just say?
“Not someday, not eventually–soon. If Marcus challenges him, it will not just be his position as Alpha at stake. It will be everything…the company, the family name, the boardroom. If Alexander stands with a legitimate heir to the Blackwell line, Marcus’s claim weakens even more. It becomes not only about Alexander, but about the future Alexander has already secured. Do you understand, Faye?”
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