Chapter 7 The Predator's Patience

POV: Darian Volkov

The dark liquid swirled in my glass tumbler, catching the dim, cold light of 6:30 AM. Outside, the city was a graveyard of gray fog and freezing rain, but inside the Volkov penthouse, the air was a vacuum. It smelled of expensive cedar, old leather, and the scent of untouchable power.

I took a sip of the Macallan. The burn was familiar, a sharp, controlled heat that matched the friction in my mind.

On the mahogany desk in front of me lay the "Genetic Contract." Twenty pages of legal jargon designed to turn a human being into a high-performance asset. I had spent my entire life turning companies into profit, dismantling the weak to build the indestructible. But this was different. This wasn't a corporate takeover; it was the acquisition of a legacy.

My father's threat was a dull ache at the back of my skull: Pick one, or I start the paperwork for your replacement.

The old man was losing his mind, clinging to "tradition" and "bloodlines" as if we were still czars in the old country. He didn't care about the billions I had added to the balance sheet. He cared about the one thing I couldn't manufacture: an heir. To him, I was a king without a kingdom if I didn't have a son to inherit the throne. And Sergei Volkov was not a man who allowed his line to end in a whimper. If I didn't provide a child, he would hand the keys of Luminaire Corp to Xavier...a man who was loyal only to the highest bidder.

I leaned back in my chair, my eyes drifting to the surveillance photo of Liora Hayes.

She was the outlier in a sea of shallow perfection. The other candidates in the file...the daughters of shipping magnates and oil tycoons....were too loud. They weren't easy to control.They would want a seat at my table. They would want to be seen at my side at galas, playing the role of the tragic, beautiful mother to the Volkov heir while trying to claw their way into my dividends. They would be a liability. An emotional tax I refused to pay.

But Liora? Liora was a girl drowning in debt . She didn't necessarily want influence; she wanted a lifejacket.

I needed someone desperate. Desperation is the ultimate silencer. A woman who has nothing will do anything to keep the one thing she values. In her case, it was a dying mother and a pile of medical bills she couldn't pay if she worked a thousand lifetimes at that grease-trap diner. She wouldn't talk to the press. She wouldn't try to claim my name or my heart. She would do her job, house my child, take her money, and vanish back into the slums where she belonged.

That was the strategy. And I never strayed from strategy.

I thought back to the intersection earlier that morning. Most people looked away when my car passed. They bowed their heads in a silent prayer of envy or fear. But she had stood there, drenched and shivering, looking straight into the tinted glass. She couldn't see me, but she had stared with a defiance that was almost insulting. It was the look of a creature that had been backed into a corner and decided to stop running.

She looked like she was ready to fight the world with nothing but her bare hands. I found that... useful.

I checked my watch. 6:45 AM. Xavier was late.

I set my glass down with a heavy thud. I didn't like the feeling of anticipation. It felt like a crack in my armor. I had built this empire by being the predator, never the one waiting for the prey to arrive. I stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. From sixty stories up, the people below were just pixels moving through a gray grid. They were irrelevant.

My phone buzzed on the desk. A private line. No caller ID.

I picked it up. I didn't say hello. "Status."

"It's done," Xavier's voice was smooth, carrying that hint of oily triumph he always had when he closed a deal. "The hospital transfer has been halted. The deposit is being processed as we speak. Mrs. Hayes is back in her private suite, surrounded by doctors who suddenly care about her heartbeat."

"And the girl?" I asked. My voice was a flat, low rasp.

"She's in the car with me," Xavier replied. I could hear the muffled sound of the rain against the car's roof. "She's exactly what the file said. Fragile, but she has a spine made of iron. She fought it for a minute lol ...tried to sell a broken, gold-plated watch to the billing clerk to save her mother. It was so pathetic that it was almost funny."

"I don't pay you for poetry, Xavier," I snapped. "Is she compliant?"

"She has realized the alternative is a morgue for her mother. She's quiet now"

I felt a cold surge of satisfaction. The piece was on the board. The variable was captured.

"Bring her to the office," I commanded. "I want the contract signed before the markets open. I want no room for second thoughts or late-night morality."

"Understood," Xavier said. "We're five minutes out."

"And Xavier?" I paused, looking at my reflection in the dark glass. "Make sure she's cleaned up. I don't want the smell of a cheap diner or the stench of a hospital in my office. If she's to carry my name, she will at least look the part of a Volkov asset."

I hung up and returned to my desk. I picked up the fountain pen my father had given me when I became CEO. It was heavy, crafted from obsidian and gold. It was a tool for signing death warrants and mergers. Today, it would be used to buy a life.

The door to my study opened a crack, and my assistant poked her head in. "Mr. Volkov, your 8:00 AM meeting with the European board-"

"Cancel it," I said, not looking up. "Clear my entire morning. I am not to be disturbed by anyone except Xavier."

"But the chairman-"

"The chairman can wait," I cut her off, my gaze hardening. "I have a more important acquisition to finalize."

She scurried away, closing the door softly. I sat in the silence, watching a single raindrop trail down the window. I was about to buy a woman. I was about to own the future of my bloodline. To anyone else, it might have been a moral crisis. To me, it was just the cost of doing business.

My phone buzzed again. A text from Xavier.

" I have the Hayes girl."

I set the phone down and straightened my tie. I looked at the "Genetic Contract" one last time. In nine months, this girl would be a memory, and I would have the one thing that made me untouchable.

"Let's see if you're as strong as your eyes say, Liora," I whispered to the empty room.