Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen-Chapter 148: Scandal

Renar finally recognised the woman standing before him, it was Chasey, one of Lethia’s colleagues. He walked over to the vending machine, got a bottle of mineral water, and handed it to her.

"Take a deep breath," Renar said calmly. "And speak slowly." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"Ad... Adam betrayed us," Chasey finally choked out. "He was Varrel Quinnel’s spy all along. He lied to all of us, and just wanted to lure Lethia into that trap Varrel had set—" Her voice cracked mid-sentence.

Her explanation only confirmed the suspicion Renar had been carrying. He’d already had a feeling Varrel had something to do with Lethia’s disappearance.

Renar placed a steady hand on Chasey’s shoulder to calm her.

"Chasey... do you happen to know where Lethia is now? Or what exactly Adam was planning by playing spy?"

Chasey closed her eyes, gulping hard, then slowly shook her head.

"I don’t know where they took her. I only overheard Adam talking about it, about the plan, and I... I realized it too late. When I tried to warn Lethia, Adam locked me up. And... it’s not just Lethia."

Chasey bit her lip and looked confused before continuing, "Adam stole classified files from Zeran Tuffin and plans to use them to bring down the Tuffin Corporation. Va—Varrel Quinnel’s aiming to crush the Tuffins’ power in Ashenhold."

Renar frowned, jaw clenched in disbelief, trying to digest everything and break it down logically. So this wasn’t just about Lethia. This was full-blown political warfare.

"So... you really don’t know where she is now?"

Chasey only shook her head as tears streamed down her face.

"What should we do? It’s all my fault. I... I was the one who introduced Adam to Lethia. And... I was too late to give her the warning. If only... if only he hadn’t locked me up—" Her voice dissolved into broken sobs.

Renar felt a sharp pang of sympathy for Chasey and gave her shoulder a light pat.

"This is not your fault. You’ve been through hell too. How did you escape?" he asked.

"I ran out when the guard got distracted."

"And this—who did this to you?" Renar pointed at the bruise on her lip and the faint one on her neck.

But Chasey didn’t answer. She just sat there, crying in silence.

Renar didn’t press further. He instructed his assistant to take care of her wounds and reassured her that he’d handle the rest from now on.

She could rest—though judging by what she’d just gone through, he doubted she’d find any peace that easily. Still, she was safe now. That was all that mattered for the moment.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Renar exhaled a long, heavy breath, pulled out his phone, and called Zeran.

A fucking voicemail.

"Where the hell did this bastard go? Pick up, you moron," he muttered, jaw tight with frustration.

Three more tries, same damn silence.

He gave up.

Just as he was about to return to Caelum’s room, his phone buzzed. It was a message from his grandfather, summoning him immediately.

But that wasn’t what made Renar freeze.

A burst of notifications started flooding his phone. And like some wicked omen, that damned devil of bad feeling reared its ugly head, right on cue.

He clicked one of the notifications that led him to a link.

When he opened it, his gut twisted.

The article headline screamed at him like a curse: "Secret Artificial Womb: Science Hunger Fetish or Sick Obsession to Breed Tuffin Minions?"

The soft hum of the automatic door echoed as Callista stepped out of the VIP room, her eyes puffy and red.

"Renar..." Her voice trembled, barely holding together while her hand gestured to her phone.

"Hm, I saw it too. Just stay here. I’ll meet Grandpa alone."

Callista pressed her lips into a tight line and gave a small nod. It’d only pained Renar more if she showed any more emotion in front of him.

"Don’t worry too much. Notify me the moment Caelum wakes up."

Renar gave her arm a gentle squeeze before turning away, leaving the hospital ward with his thoughts in chaos.

His steps quickened through the corridor, fists clenched hard. He didn’t have time for any more bullshit. Lethia’s pregnancy was approaching its third month, and he still hadn’t located the priest.

Even though he’d almost successfully crafted the red moonstone with his equipment, the final step still required that priest’s presence.

He clicked his tongue sharply and fired off another message to Zeran. ’Where the fuck is that bollock who indirectly caused all this madness?’

The streets were denser than usual, but Renar weaved through the traffic like a blade—fast, calculated, ruthless.

When he finally arrived at his grandfather’s estate, he halted at the front gate where guards were already stationed, a couple of paparazzi lurking around like vultures.

He pulled into the parking lot but didn’t get out right away.

Instead, he sat still, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead.

He hadn’t slept properly in days. His head was pounding. And this latest shitstorm only sharpened the migraine clawing at his skull.

Renar knocked on the door to his grandfather’s study, then stepped in without waiting for permission. His grandfather was seated behind his desk, eyes glued to the television, where a gossip talk show was dissecting the theory of Tuffin’s artificial womb.

"How laughable," Damian muttered with a bitter smile. "That the groundbreaking research of our family is being picked apart by a cheap gossip program."

Renar, his expression unreadable, dropped himself onto the sofa like he belonged there.

"Well, there’s a reason they call it a talk show. It spreads gossip faster."

"So you also believe someone leaked the information just to stir up public noise?"

"I doubt they even understand the real purpose behind our research," Renar said, his tone laced with scepticism. "If they did... it would blow the world for sure."

Damian switched off the TV, stood, and walked to sit across from him.

"Where is Zeran?" he asked.

"I’d love to know that too, Grandpa." Renar let out a short, dry chuckle. "He must be losing his shit right now, watching the company stock crash this hard."

Damian slammed his fist onto the armrest, his eyes darkening as fury slowly crept in.

"We need to take action soon, or this will mess with the election."

Renar ran his fingers over his knuckles, weighing something in silence.

"It’d be faster if we just told the truth. Let the public hear it straight."

Damian’s face twisted in distaste. "What do you mean?"

"Just be honest about why we’re doing all this research," Renar replied quietly, frustration leaking through every word.

Braak!!

The thunderous slam of Damian’s hand against the desk chilled the air. Renar clenched his jaw—he’d expected that reaction.

"To tell the world the Lycans are cursed and on the verge of extinction?" Damian spat. "No. Over my dead body. Even in the fucking grave, I won’t let that secret go public."