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“A few days later, Elara met the production team in the study of their apartment.

She signed her name on eight different pages.

When the first payment hit her account, she checked her phone and let out a low whistle. "Okay. I get it now. That’s real money."

They decided to shoot at home. Elara didn’t want to deal with renting a separate location, and Alpha Dominic didn’t see the point either.

The producer, a guy named Mark in his early thirties, looked around the living room. "Just so you know, most of our families rent a separate space. Keeps the cameras out of your private area."

"Nope." Alpha Dominic didn’t even hesitate. "We’ve got enough rooms. When the show wraps, we’ll just move."

Mark blinked. "You’ll... move?"

"Yeah. We own a few places." Alpha Dominic said it like it was nothing. Like he was talking about owning a couple of pairs of sneakers.

Mark opened his mouth, closed it, and then just nodded. "Right. Okay. Then we’ll be in touch before the next shoot."

"One more thing." Alpha Dominic held up a hand. "I come home sometimes during filming. If I walk through the shot, that’s fine, right?"

"That’s totally fine." Mark ’s face lit up. "Actually, it would be great if you appeared on camera. The viewers would love to see the Alpha King."

Elara’s ears perked up. "Wait. Does that mean we get a rate bump? Double on-screen talent fee?"

Mark’s smile froze. "...That’s not in the contract."

"Not even a percentage?" Elara pressed.

"Not even a percentage."

Mark looked like he desperately wanted to be anywhere else.

Elara turned to Dominic. "Vincent’s cutting corners."

"No kidding." Alpha Dominic grabbed her hand. "I’m Alpha King. If I’m on camera, I’m content. And content costs money. Come on, wife. We’re going to go find Vincent."

Elara grinned. "Let’s go."

She didn’t even notice how much she sounded like him now.

"We need to negotiate," she said, as Alpha Dominic pulled her toward the door. "For the pup’s college fund."

--

Meanwhile,Jack had been sleeping in his car for three days.

He parked behind a Walmart on the outskirts of town.

The one with the cracked parking lot and the flickering streetlight. It was the only place no one would look for him.

His wife left him six months ago. His kid refused to take his calls. And every single mess in his life could be traced back to one person.

His niece, Elara.

He couldn’t touch her. She was married to the Alpha King. Protected by the most powerful pack in the country. She had security details and private drivers and a house with a gate that could stop a truck.

But her mother? Nadia was fair game.

Jack found Nadia’s apartment complex off Highway 9. The kind of place with a broken mailbox and a lawn that hadn’t been mowed in months. He walked up the cracked concrete steps and knocked on her door.

"Hey, sis." His voice was flat. "Open up."

The door opened a crack. Nadia’s face appeared. She looked older than he remembered. Thinner. Her eyes had that hollow look people get when they haven’t slept in weeks.

"What do you want, Jack?"

She let him in anyway. Old habit.

Jack stepped inside and looked around. The place was small. A couch that had seen better days. A TV from probably ten years ago. A kitchen table with one chair missing.

"This is all your fault." He crossed his arms. "I got people looking for me. Guys who don’t take no for an answer. And it’s because of you. You owe me."

Nadia’s hand went to her chest. "What are you talking about? I don’t owe you anything."

"I lost everything." Jack’s voice got louder. "My wife. My kid. My house. I got investors breathing down my neck. I got loan sharks calling my phone every hour. And you’re gonna help me."

"How?"

"Sell this place. Go ask your daughter for money. I don’t care. Just get me fifteen million."

Nadia stared at him. "Fifteen million? Jack, I have maybe three hundred dollars in my bank account. I work part time at a diner. Where do you think I keep that kind of money?"

"You married an Alpha. You must have gotten something from the divorce."

Nadia’s face went pale. "I got nothing. I signed everything away. You know that."

Jack’s jaw tightened. "Then call your daughter."

"We don’t talk." Nadia’s voice cracked. "She cut me off. You know that too."

"Bullshit. You’re her mother. She has to help you."

"She doesn’t have to do anything." Nadia took a slow breath. "Jack, I’m sick. Stage four. The doctor gave me three months. Maybe less. I don’t have money. I don’t have anything."

She coughed. Blood hit her palm.

Jack stared at the red in her hand. For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or regret.

Then it was gone.

He turned around and walked out. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t look back.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Nadia stood alone in her tiny apartment. Blood still dripping from her hand. She slid down onto the floor and started to cry.