Chapter 138
Trista’s POV
The accident during his teens had left his leg bones to set incorrectly. Emlen always walked with a slight limp, his gait looking as if someone were constantly tugging him back.
He never finished his studies; his life had been squeezed out of the “elite lane” before it even started.
Luckily, his wolf was gentle and down–to–earth. After reaching adulthood, he and his mate opened a tiny shop on a street corner, repairing phones, tablets, and all sorts of electronics. He survived in the cracks of the city on manual skill and a bit of word–of–mouth.
Then, footsteps approached from behind.
Humphrey walked over, maintaining his usual mask of politeness. “Luna Trista, do you happen to know a reliable phone technician? This device contains sensitive files, and I’m not comfortable handing it over to a stranger.”
I shot Emlen a look–a blatant warning—and shut Humphrey down with a practiced reflex. “Sorry, Humphrey. I don’t know anyone in that business.”
But Emlen didn’t catch my drift. Instead, he blurted out with helpful enthusiasm, “Fixing phones? I can do that.”
I reached out to stop him, but it was too late.
Humphrey let out a visible sigh of relief, like he’d finally found a lifeline. “That’s perfect.”
I traded a look with Klein and forced myself to warn Emlen again. “Emlen, Humphrey is the Executive Assistant to the CEO of Ironthorn Group. This phone is loaded with high–stakes corporate data. If anything goes wrong, there are serious legal consequences.”
Emlen patted his chest, giving his word. “Relax, Trista. I’ve been doing this for over a decade.”
He rattled off his shop’s address to Humphrey, who thanked him repeatedly. “I’ll drop it off after work.”
Before leaving, Klein leaned in to reassure me. “Ms. Holmes, as long as Emlen keeps the phone under surveillance from the moment he touches it until the repair is done, he should be fine.”
Once the crowd thinned out, I pulled Emlen aside and hammered the point home; only fix the hardware, don’t touch the data, and keep the cameras rolling the entire time.
He wasn’t used to this kind of high–tension lecturing–his ears were practically pinned to his head–but he nodded. “I get it. I’ll be careful.”
Then came the day of the Council hearing.
Just after 9 AM, I practically had to pin my parents to the sofa, convincing them to stay home. “This is between me and Cassian. I’ll handle it.”
I took a cab alone to the Alliance Building, where the Supernatural Arbitration Tribunal was held.
The moment I opened the car door, camera flashes went off like a hail of gunfire. A swarm of reporters rushed me, smelling blood. “Luna Trista, did you know-” “About the rumors of the Ironthorn heir’s bastard son-”


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