Ditch Fake Bond She’s Tycoon Wolf Heiress (Natalie) novel Chapter 25

**Chapter 25: Strong External Communication Skills**

**Natalie’s POV:**

My phone lay still on the nightstand, its screen dark and silent throughout the long hours of the night. There were no messages from Landon, nor any from Leonardo, which left a vague, indescribable sense of disappointment lingering in the pit of my stomach. It was as if the absence of their communications had wrapped me in a shroud of loneliness. Eventually, exhaustion took over, pulling me into a deep, dreamless sleep, where worries faded into the background.

The following day dawned with the promise of the charity banquet, a gathering that was supposed to be a chance for me to step into the spotlight as the heir of the Scott family. However, as I arrived, I quickly realized that my expectations were far from reality. Matthew, who had graciously accompanied me for a time, was soon whisked away by urgent business matters that demanded his attention. Liam, too, was engulfed in his own whirlwind of activities, either tethered to phone calls or surrounded by clusters of people vying for his attention.

Meanwhile, I found myself standing at the edge of the room, the heir to a vast fortune yet feeling more like an outsider than ever. It was striking how few people approached me unless I was directly beside Matthew or Liam. The business cards exchanged with polite nods felt more like a formality than genuine interest, and the conversations were laced with a probing distance that made my skin crawl.

I understood their unspoken sentiments all too well. The guests at this banquet were not just any attendees; they were titans of the business world, influential figures entrenched in the werewolf elite who controlled the economic lifelines of our society. Their respect was not for me as an individual but rather for the legacy of the Scott family, my late father, Alexander, who had been a formidable Alpha leader of the Moon-Shadowed Pack and a shrewd business mogul. They revered the accumulated power and prestige of our family, but when it came to me—a “mixed-blood illegitimate daughter” of uncertain lineage—their attitude was tinged with disdain.

Matthew had forewarned me about this. Penelope and Samuel had spent years cultivating their influence, their roots deep and unyielding. To many in this room, I was merely a lucky girl thrust into a position of immense wealth, an heir who had inherited a fortune without having earned it. They were skeptical of my ability to manage the vast empire my father had left behind, convinced that the Scott family’s power and wealth would soon slip through my fingers.

It was no surprise, then, that they chose to maintain their distance, observing me with cold indifference, waiting for the moment when my facade would crack.

But I had not come here to hide away like a frightened turtle, despite the weight of expectations pressing down on me. My original intention was simply to represent the Scott family, yet the title I bore as heir to hundreds of billions of dollars and the Moon-Shadowed Pack demanded that I step into the light, not retreat into the shadows.

In preparation, I had meticulously crafted my speech, pouring over the draft that Matthew’s team had prepared. I refined it repeatedly, ensuring that every word resonated with the strength and dignity of my family’s legacy.

As I stood backstage, I could feel the tension coiling in my stomach. Liam, ever observant, caught sight of my nerves. “If you’re too scared, I can go up instead,” he offered, his voice laced with concern. “If you mess up, it won’t just be your embarrassment; it’ll reflect on the entire Moon-Shadowed Pack.”

I shook my head resolutely, refusing to back down. “Don’t worry. I won’t make a mistake,” I replied softly, trying to quell the storm of anxiety brewing within me.

Earlier, as I entered the banquet hall, I had spotted Eleanor and Chloe, flanked by their parents and surrounded by a throng of admirers. They had barely acknowledged my presence, offering only a fleeting greeting before turning their attention elsewhere. It felt as though the spotlight was shifting away from the Scott family and landing squarely on the Kelly family, further isolating me.

Even with Liam’s protective presence, I couldn’t escape the fragmented comments that drifted through the air, thanks to my werewolf-enhanced hearing. Words like “mixed-blood,” “relies on the family,” and “not presentable” echoed in my mind, each one a dagger to my confidence.

If I allowed myself to cower and avoid the stage, I would be validating their cruel assessments.

“Natalie, don’t let their stares get to you,” Liam said, casting a contemptuous glance across the room. There was a hint of pure-blood werewolf arrogance in his demeanor. “Most of them aren’t impressive themselves.”

In his eyes, even though I was a mixed-blood illegitimate daughter, I still carried the blood of the Scott family, and thus, I belonged. Their disdain was merely a veil for their jealousy.

Another voice echoed the sentiment, “Look at her, all dressed up. Does she think this is a fashion show?”

As I hesitated, the murmurs spread like wildfire, igniting a fire of doubt within me. Just as I gripped the microphone, feeling my fingertips grow cold, a clear, firm round of applause erupted from the back of the room.

It was Liam, his hands moving with determination. Seeing him take that stand, a few others around him soon joined in, their sporadic claps gradually building a rhythm. The scattered applause pulled me back from the brink of panic.

I straightened my posture, forcing my gaze to the teleprompter area, only to find it utterly blank! Someone had sabotaged it, a deliberate attempt to ensure I would falter and confirm the critics’ harsh judgments of me as a “mixed-blood illegitimate daughter.”

As the applause began to dwindle, I steadied myself, banishing my hesitation. I opened my mouth and began speaking in fluent, impeccable Calitheran. A few carefully chosen words silenced the murmurs echoing in the hall.

My major had been finance, and the individual hoping for my failure likely didn’t realize that. My academic background required strong external communication skills, and I had honed my ability to speak fluently in foreign languages. Impromptu speaking was my forte, a skill I had cultivated throughout university, where I had consistently triumphed in foreign language impromptu speech competitions, often tackling complex business analysis topics.

While previous speakers had relied on simultaneous interpreters, I rendered the translator beside me unnecessary.

As I delivered my speech, I could see Liam’s tense shoulders finally relax, a wave of relief washing over him as he recognized my capabilities.