Rejected By The Alpha, Claimed By The Blind Commander

Alannah POV:

Morning fog still hung over the pine groves when my Maybach pulled up the gravel drive. Two company sedans followed, three of Morgan Trust's senior legal partners inside.

A nervous Omega footman opened the doors, eyes glued to the floor. Elton was in the reception hall, sprawled on a leather sofa with Cinthia tucked against him. Constance came down the marble stairs, red wine already in hand.

"You again," she sneered. "I thought security made it clear you're unwelcome."

I didn't bother answering. I walked to the low mahogany coffee table, dropped my briefcase on it, and popped the latches.

Then I looked past Elton. "Good morning, Julian. Joining us?"

Julian Rosa flinched behind a marble pillar near the dining corridor, hands jammed in his pockets, shrinking back into the shadows.

Elton stepped between us, jaw tight. "Leave Julian out of this. What cheap trick are you pulling now?"

"Simple. Morgan Trust bought up some bad debt. We're here to collect."

The attorney laid four certified promissory notes in a neat row. "Julian Rosa owes three million two hundred thousand credits in gambling debts. The notes matured at midnight."

Constance's hand jerked. Wine sloshed over the rim and splashed across the Persian rug. "That is an outrageous lie! Julian would never—"

"His blood-seal is on page three." I pointed at the crimson thumbprint. "Federal banking law doesn't discharge blood-sealed notes."

Elton snatched the top document, eyes racing across the figures. His face went pale, knuckles white as he crumpled the edges.

He spun and backhanded Julian across the cheek.

The crack echoed through the hall. Julian collapsed against the pillar, sobbing. "Elton, I swear—they told me the table was fixed! They said I could win it back!"

Constance dropped her glass. Crystal shattered on the floor as she rushed to shield her younger son. "Don't touch him! Alannah set a trap!"

She lunged for the coffee table, nails clawing at the papers. My attorney caught her wrist without flinching. "Certified copies, Lady Rosa. Destroying them doesn't alter the lien on your estate."

Constance fell back onto the sofa, face buried in her hands. The Silver Peak facade cracked right in front of me.

Elton's neck veins throbbed. The humiliation in his eyes was intoxicating.

"Alannah," he said, voice dropping to a desperate hush. "We've known each other for years. Give us three months. We can work out installments."

I laughed, sharp and humorless. "Three months? Yesterday you tried to make me an unmarked concubine. Did you offer me three months then?"

I stepped closer, meeting his frantic gray-blue eyes. "You have three days. Seventy-two hours to wire three million two hundred thousand credits to Morgan Trust. If it's not in our clearing house by noon on day three, I'll have the courts seize Silver Peak Manor."

Cinthia shrank into the cushions, face pale as chalk.

"Three days is impossible!" Elton shouted. "You're trying to destroy this pack!"

"You destroyed it yourself." I turned my back. "Three days, Elton. Don't default."

My legal team followed me to the doors. At the threshold, I glanced back. "One more thing. Underground syndicates aren't as patient as I am. Don't make me send their collectors."

Outside, the morning sun cut through the fog.

In the Maybach, Tessa handed me a tablet of banking alerts. "Elton's already calling private lenders in the capital."

"Watch the Nichols accounts," I said, leaning back. "Cinthia's dowry is the only liquid asset they have left."

The car hummed through the financial district. Three days. Either Elton found three million credits, or I would take Silver Peak Manor.