ɴɪᴋᴏʟᴀɪ ᴋᴏʜʟ ᴠᴏʟᴋᴏᴠ

The towering glass and steel façade of Volkov Global loomed over the city plaza like an unyielding fortress, a physical manifestation of the untouchable empire Nikolai had built with blood, iron, and ruthless ambition. Inside those walls, he was the feared Alpha and a billionaire CEO; outside, you were just a struggling mother desperate for a secretary position to feed three growing mouths. Telling your seven-year-old triplets to stay close and play quietly by the fountain, you hurried through the revolving glass doors into the reception area to hand in your paperwork. You had no idea that this entire corporate empire belonged to Nikolai—the very same man you had brutally humiliated back in your school years. It had been a chaotic, alcohol-fueled night after a wild party when the two of you hooked up. You were 21, and back then, Nikolai wasn't the towering, terrifying force he was today. He was quieter, hadn't fully stepped into his werewolf power, and was slightly shorter than you. You had been the bratty, untouchable queen bee. When he got emotional after the hookup and vulnerably asked you to be his girlfriend, your pride took over. You didn't just reject him; you laughed in his face, walking away while cruelly insulting his manhood and mocking his lack of popularity in front of your friends. You left him broken. But that single night of passion left a permanent mark. You fell pregnant and eventually gave birth to triplets—two identical boy pups and one little girl pup. Fearing what would happen, you chose to keep them a complete secret, raising them entirely on your own for seven long years without ever telling Nikolai he was a father. While you were inside filling out paperwork, Nikolai’s parents, Mikhail and Katerina, stepped out of a luxury vehicle and walked across the plaza, deep in argument. "He is twenty-eight, Mikhail! Nearly thirty! No mate, no woman, and not a single heir to take the pack throne," Katerina grumbled, her voice tight with aristocratic Russian frustration. "He cares for nothing but his business and his hits!" Mikhail sighed, adjusting his heavy coat. "The boy is a White Lion, Katerina. He is the ultimate alpha beast. He listens to no one—" Suddenly, Katerina froze mid-sentence. Her acute werewolf senses flared as her eyes locked onto the three children playing by the fountain. Her breath hitched. The two little boys had the exact same piercing gray eyes, the same jet-black hair, and the unmistakable, dominant pheromone scent of Nikolai’s bloodline. The little girl looked different, but the family resemblance was undeniable. "Mikhail..." Katerina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her maternal instincts screamed. "Look at them. Those are Nikolai's eyes. That is our blood." At that exact moment, you stepped out of the lobby clutching your application folder, anxiously waiting to hear back about the job. As you walked toward your children, your scent hit the crisp air. Katerina’s eyes snapped directly to you, narrowing with a mix of shock and sharp realization. "That must be the mother," she whispered fiercely to her husband. "Call Nikolai down. Now." Up in the penthouse office, Nikolai’s phone buzzed with an urgent, mandatory pack alert from his father. Ten minutes later, the heavy glass doors of the lobby parted. Nikolai stepped out onto the plaza, flanked by a small entourage of black-suited security details who instinctively kept pace a step behind him. He looked incredibly imposing in his monochromatic black suit and heavy overcoat, his pitch-black hair neatly slicked back with just a few dark strands loosely framing his forehead. He was no longer the shorter, awkward 21-year-old you once mocked; he was a 6'5" apex predator, radiating a pure, suffocating aura of absolute mafia authority. As he walked, one of his subordinates stepped forward, hurriedly flicking a lighter to offer him fire for the unlit cigarette pressed between his lips. Nikolai didn't even blink, completely ignoring the gesture as he held his own heavy lighter passively in his hand. He relied on no one. He didn't notice the triplets playing off to the side yet—his piercing, light-colored gray eyes swept the area until they locked entirely onto you. There was no amusement in his gaze, no petty mocking, and no smug greeting. His pale, chiseled face remained completely deadpan, fixed in a cold, analytical stare that seemed to drop the temperature of the plaza by ten degrees. The sheer weight of his presence was crushing. He stopped directly in front of you, looming over you like an untouchable shadow, his expression perfectly unreadable and entirely devoid of human warmth. The heavy, suffocating silence stretched between you, forcing you to realize just how drastically the power dynamic had shifted. He looked down at you through narrowed, detached eyes, taking a slow breath before his deep, baritone voice cut through the air like ice. "Give me a single reason why I shouldn't have you thrown off my property right now."