The lobby of the Sinclair Tower was a cathedral of glass and cold marble, designed to make anyone earning less than seven figures feel insignificant.
But for four-year-old Mia, it was just a very large, very shiny playground.
She sat cross-legged on a velvet bench near the fountain, swinging her short legs. Her "Vera" disguise—a little beret and a matching trench coat—was slightly askew. In her hands, she held a Rubik's Cube that she had swiped from the reception desk.
*Click. Click. Snap.*
Mia frowned. The colors weren't matching up fast enough. With a huff of impatience, she squeezed.
There was a sound like a gunshot cracking. The solid plastic cube shattered in her grip, exploding into colorful dust and shrapnel.
"Oops," Mia whispered, brushing the plastic powder off her coat. "Mommy is going to be mad. Rule Number One: Don't break things."
"You there! You little brat!"
A shrill voice cut through the hum of the lobby.
Mia looked up. Standing over her was a tall woman with blonde hair that looked like spun gold and a face that looked like it smelled something bad. It was Elena.
Elena was furious. Damien had just kicked her out of his office—*kicked her out!*—for that cheap French designer. She needed to vent her rage, and a dirty, unattended child playing with trash on the velvet bench was the perfect target.
"Where are your parents?" Elena sneered, towering over the child. "This is a corporate headquarters, not a daycare for the homeless."
Mia blinked her large, hazel-gold eyes. "I'm not homeless. I live at the Plaza."
"Liar," Elena scoffed. She saw the plastic debris on the floor. "Look at this mess! You're destroying property. Security!"
Elena reached out, her manicured nails digging into Mia's small shoulder. She intended to drag the child off the bench and throw her out the front door herself.
"Hey!" Mia protested, her brows furrowing. "That hurts!"
"It's supposed to hurt, you little rodent," Elena hissed, tightening her grip. "Maybe this will teach you some manners."
Mia didn't like pain. And unlike normal four-year-olds, she didn't cry when she felt it. Her Alpha genes didn't allow for tears. They allowed for *action*.
Mia's eyes flashed with a dangerous, golden light. Instinctively, her small hand shot up and grabbed Elena's wrist.
"Let. Go," Mia said. Her voice was childish, yet it carried a strange, vibrating command.
Elena laughed. "Or what? You're going to hit m—"
*CRACK.*
It wasn't a loud sound. It was the sickening crunch of expensive jewelry and perhaps a small bone.
"AAAAHHH!"
Elena's scream pierced the air, echoing off the high ceilings. She yanked her hand back, her face draining of color. Her wrist was already bruising, and her limited-edition diamond bracelet was bent into an oval shape, digging into her flesh.
"You... you monster!" Elena shrieked, clutching her wrist. Tears of pain streamed down her face. "You broke my hand!"
Mia looked at her own hand, then at Elena, confused. "I just... squeezed. You were hurting me."
"Security! Arrest this savage!" Elena screamed, causing heads to turn all over the lobby. "Where are the guards?!"
The commotion was loud enough to drown out the sound of the private elevator doors sliding open.
The air in the lobby suddenly grew heavy. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. The chatter of the receptionist, the footsteps of the guests, the sound of the rain outside—everything went silent.
An Alpha had entered the room.
Damien Sinclair walked out of the elevator, his face a mask of thunder. He had come down to chase after Vera, to demand answers about the phone call, but instead, he walked into a circus.
He saw Elena screaming like a banshee. He saw the terrified security guards hesitating. And then, he saw the child.
A tiny thing in a white trench coat, looking utterly unbothered by the chaos she had caused.
Damien's irritation spiked. "Elena," he barked, his voice projecting across the cavernous room without him needing to shout. "What is the meaning of this?"
Elena spun around, relief washing over her face. "Damien! Thank god! This... this wild animal attacked me! She broke my wrist! Look!"
She shoved her swelling wrist toward him.
Damien glanced at it. The bracelet was indeed bent. It would take hundreds of pounds of pressure to bend platinum like that.
He frowned. He looked at the child.
She was four. Maybe five. She was holding a bag of gummy bears in one hand and looking at him with wide, curious eyes.
"She did that?" Damien asked skeptically.
"Yes! She's a freak!" Elena wailed. "Throw her out! Call the police!"
Damien ignored Elena. He felt a strange pulling sensation in his chest. It was like a fishing line had been hooked into his heart and was tugging him toward the bench.
He walked past Elena. He walked past the guards. He stopped in front of the little girl.
Mia looked up. That scent...
Pine. Rain. And power.
It was the same smell she had sniffed on her mommy's coat so many times. The smell of the man in the picture Leo kept hidden in his encrypted folder.
*Daddy.*
Mia's eyes widened. She forgot about the mean lady. She forgot about the bent bracelet. She just stared at the giant man who blocked out the lights.
Damien stared back.
He expected to see fear. Children always cried when they saw him. His aura was too dark, too predatory. Even his own nephews avoided him.
But this child... she wasn't crying. She was studying him.
And her eyes.
Damien's breath hitched. They were *hazel*, flecked with brilliant gold.
*My eyes,* his inner wolf growled, pacing restlessly in his mind. *Cub. Kin.*
"What is your name?" Damien asked. His voice, usually harsh and commanding, came out as a rough whisper.
Mia tilted her head. "Mommy says I shouldn't talk to strangers."
"I own this building," Damien said, crouching down so he was eye-level with her. His expensive suit pants strained against his thighs, but he didn't care. "I'm not a stranger here."
"You're big," Mia stated. She reached out a sticky hand.
"Damien, don't touch her! She's dangerous!" Elena shrieked from behind him.
"Silence!" Damien roared, throwing a glare over his shoulder that made Elena recoil as if she'd been slapped.
When he turned back, Mia's small hand was already on his face.
She touched the rough stubble on his jaw. Her fingers were warm. Tiny. Soft.
Damien froze.
A jolt of electricity shot through his body. It wasn't the sexual spark he felt with his Fated Mate. It was something else. Something ancient. A protective, fierce instinct that made him want to rip the throat out of anyone who dared to look at this child the wrong way.
*Mine,* his wolf whispered. *Protect.*
"You smell sad," Mia whispered, her golden eyes searching his grey ones. "Like burnt toast."
Damien blinked, caught off guard. "Burnt toast?"
"Yeah. When Mommy burns breakfast because she's crying. That smell." Mia patted his cheek clumsily. "Don't be sad, Giant Man. Do you want a gummy bear?"
She offered him a red gummy bear, pinched between her sticky fingers.
Damien Sinclair, the King of Wall Street, the ruthless Alpha who terrified grown men, stared at the red candy.
He felt a lump form in his throat. For five years, his world had been grey. Cold. Empty. But in this ridiculous moment, looking at this strange child offering him a sweet, he felt a crack in the ice.
He reached out his hand.
"Mia!"
The scream came from the other side of the lobby. It was sharp, panicked, and desperate.
Damien's head snapped up.
He saw Vera running toward them. She had lost her composure. Her hair was messy, her chest heaving, her eyes wild with terror. She wasn't walking like a dignified designer; she was running like a mother whose child was in the jaws of a lion.
"Don't touch her!" Vera screamed.
Aria didn't care about the contract. She didn't care about the ten million dollars. She saw Damien crouching in front of Mia, his hand reaching out.
*He knows. He's taking her.*
The thought sent a surge of adrenaline through her veins that nearly triggered her shift. She sprinted across the marble floor, her heels clicking like machine-gun fire.
She reached them in seconds. She didn't stop to be polite. She shoved her body between Damien and Mia, acting as a human shield. She scooped Mia up into her arms, burying the girl's face in her shoulder so Damien couldn't see those golden eyes again.
"Ms. Vera?" Damien stood up slowly, his expression shifting from softness back to confusion. "This is your child?"
Aria clutched Mia so tight the girl squirmed. "Yes! And what do you think you are doing?"
"I was..." Damien looked at his empty hand. "She was unattended. She attacked Elena."
"I did not!" Mia's muffled voice came from Aria's shoulder. "She pinched me!"
Aria turned on Elena, her eyes blazing with a fury that stunned everyone. "You touched my daughter?"
Elena held her broken wrist, sneering. "Your daughter is a feral animal! Look what she did to my bracelet! You will pay for this! That bracelet costs more than your life!"
"Send me the bill," Aria spat, her voice dripping with venom. "But if you ever touch her again, Elena, you won't just lose a bracelet. You'll lose the hand."
Elena gasped. "Did you hear that, Damien? She threatened me!"
Damien didn't look at Elena. He was staring at Vera.
He was staring at the way she held the child. The fierce, terrifying protectiveness. It reminded him of...
*A wolf protecting her pup.*
"Vera," Damien took a step forward. The pull was still there. Stronger now. "Let me see her."
"No," Aria stepped back, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "We are leaving."
"Wait," Damien ordered. "The girl... her eyes..."
Aria froze. He had seen them.
"She has my eyes," Aria lied quickly, praying her voice didn't shake. "They are hazel. Common."
"They were gold," Damien argued, taking another step. "Like..."
"Contacts," Aria cut him off. "She likes to play dress-up. They are colored contacts. Now, if you will excuse me, Mr. Sinclair, I have a family emergency to attend to."
She turned and bolted for the revolving doors, clutching Mia as if she were a bag of diamonds.
"Vera!" Damien called out, but she was already through the doors, diving into a waiting taxi.
As the car peeled away, splashing rain onto the pavement, Damien didn't chase her. He just stood there, the rain soaking his suit.
"Good riddance," Elena muttered, cradling her wrist. "She's insane. You should fire her."
Damien ignored her. He was looking at the ground where Mia had been sitting.
Something was shining in a puddle.
He bent down and picked it up.
It was a small, plastic hair clip. Cheap. Pink. But caught in the clasp was a single, long strand of hair.
*Not the child's hair.*
*The mother's hair.*
Damien held the hair up to the light. It was jet black—Vera's color. But near the root... just a tiny millimeter near the root... the dye had faded.
It was brown.
Warm, chestnut brown.
Aria's color.
Damien's hand closed around the clip, crushing it. The confusion in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory clarity.
The DNA test was a lie. The disguise was a lie. The "contacts" were a lie.
"Marcus," Damien said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
His assistant appeared instantly at his side. "Sir?"
Damien watched the direction the taxi had gone. He didn't look like a man who had lost something. He looked like a man who had just found the key to the entire game.
"Freeze the accounts," Damien ordered. "Lock the company exits. And call the Port Authority."
"Sir? You want to stop the taxi?"
"No," Damien smirked, his eyes flashing a brilliant, feral gold. "I don't want to chase her, Marcus. I want to trap her."
He turned back to the elevator, his stride long and purposeful.
"Cancel all my meetings. My wife has returned from the dead, and she thinks she can run."
"She is about to learn," Damien whispered, "that no one escapes the Alpha."