The Secret Heirs of the Lycan King (by Misha K) novel Chapter 10

**When Midnight Winds Carry Secrets Toward Worlds Yet Unknown**
**Chapter 10**

**Bella**

Fifty-one vouchers.

I stood there, utterly paralyzed, as Scott Moore made his way to the podium. The instant he entered the room, a profound silence enveloped us, as if the very air had thickened with anticipation. Every man in the audience regarded him with a mix of awe and reverence, while the women gazed at him with stars twinkling in their eyes, as if he were some celestial being descended from the heavens. His presence was nothing short of electrifying, and my heart raced wildly in response. I had never anticipated seeing him again, yet here he stood, commanding attention as the CEO of Phoenix Mall.

He adjusted the microphone with a casual ease that belied the weight of his position, and his deep, resonant voice echoed through the hall.

“Phoenix Mall has always believed in more than just business. We believe in people. We believe in passion, hard work, and ideas that can shape the future. Every proposal here tonight represents courage and effort. I thank each of you for trusting us with your dreams.”

As he spoke, a wave of applause erupted, filling the room with a palpable energy. He cleared his throat, and the audience fell into a hushed reverence, hanging on his every word, as if he possessed the power to weave their hopes into reality. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him; my palms were slick with sweat. How was this even happening? And then, as if sensing my presence, his gaze swept across the audience and landed directly on me. My stomach twisted into knots. He smiled ever so slightly, an expression that seemed to suggest he found some amusement in my surprise.

“Tonight,” he continued, his eyes still locked on mine, “I want to try something new. As a gesture of encouragement, I will be conducting a raffle. One business will receive an investment of one hundred thousand dollars from us. Consider it a small gift to help one of you take your next step.”

Gasps of disbelief rippled through the crowd. Whispers began to circulate, and some people broke into spontaneous applause.

“Scott Moore is not the kind of man to throw money away. He is known to be selective, careful, even ruthless in business. Why is he suddenly acting generous?” a voice near me murmured, tinged with skepticism.

“This is unprecedented!”

“Incredible,” another voice chimed in, filled with excitement.

Every second felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, squeezing the breath from my lungs. Perhaps now was the moment to slip away before everything spiraled out of control. The rapid pace of events made me feel as though the ground was shifting beneath my feet. I had no intention of walking into this trap and jeopardizing my children. So, with deliberate care, I began to retreat.

Scott turned to the man standing beside him. “Troy,” he said, his voice steady and commanding. “Can you please get that jar?” He gestured toward a glass jar perched on a side table.

I directed my gaze toward Troy. He was tall and muscular, exuding an intimidating presence that rivaled Scott’s. His light brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair framed sharp features that made him stand out even among the elite. He looked momentarily taken aback by Scott’s request but complied without hesitation, retrieving the large glass jar filled with folded slips of paper and handing it to Scott. I stood near the door, stealing one last glance at them.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed the doors at the side of the hall swing open, and my heart nearly stopped. Maya and Craig stepped inside. A wave of dread washed over me. I hadn’t seen them in years, and yet here they were, re-entering my life like a storm. My hands trembled, but I forced myself to keep moving forward. Why was everything crashing down on me in a single day? Couldn’t I catch a break between these shocks? I ducked slightly, trying to avoid their gaze.

Upon reaching the stage, I noticed Troy peering into the jar of slips, his brow furrowed with confusion. He turned to Scott, his expression filled with questions. Scott met his gaze, narrowing his eyes in a way that seemed to convey a silent warning. Troy pressed his lips together, nodded, and then carried the jar to the side. Without uttering a word, he opened a small decorative furnace nearby and dumped all the slips inside, watching as the flames consumed them, leaving nothing but ashes. What was happening?

Scott gestured for me to speak, a goofy grin plastered across his face that I wanted to wipe off. “Please, Ms. Williams.”

My throat felt parched, but I summoned the courage to approach the microphone. “Thank you, Mr. Moore. My name is Bella Williams. I own a lingerie boutique based in Dallas. I started five years ago and have been slowly building it with the hope of reaching more women who seek comfort and confidence. I’m truly honored to be here.”

A polite round of applause followed, but it barely registered in my mind as I scanned the audience. Maya and Craig were watching me, their expressions a mix of surprise and barely concealed disdain. I quickly offered a small bow and stepped down from the stage, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. I slipped out onto the balcony, where the cold night air hit me like a splash of ice water, making me shiver. I gripped the railing tightly and inhaled deeply. “God, what are you doing?” I whispered to myself.

One hundred thousand dollars? From Scott Moore? It felt less like a gift and more like a carefully laid trap. How could it be that, with my streak of bad luck, my name was the one drawn? And now, with Maya and Craig back in the picture, I could sense the impending storm. They wouldn’t let me live in peace; they would surely rush to tell my father about me. I felt exposed, cornered, and overwhelmingly afraid—mostly for my children. I had to leave. I needed to grab Nancy and the twins and escape before everything crumbled around me.

Just as I turned to leave, the balcony door swung open, and Scott strode in, filling the space with his tall, commanding presence. His sharp eyes were fixed on me, and for a moment, he said nothing, merely observing me as though he could see through the walls I was desperately trying to build. “Were you trying to leave, Bella?” he asked, his tone smooth yet predatory as he approached me.