CHAPTER 152: ETHAN’S HAPPY DAYS

Ethan shook himself from his reverie. With an apologetic smile he said, "Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not as good at games as you are."

Freya pouted, then brightened. "It’s okay. It was just a game. Don’t worry... I’ll teach you. You’ll be a pro in no time."

Enthusiastically, she began explaining the two‑player controls. Despite her young age, she was a natural strategist, a gifted player. Ethan followed every instruction, gazing fondly at her earnest face. He loved these moments... his daughter teaching him, role and counter‑role reversed.

Just then, Eleanor appeared in the doorway. "What are you two up to?"

Both looked at their back. Ethan smiled. "You’re back."

Freya bounded across the room and wrapped her arms around her. "Mommy, I missed you!"

"I missed you too, sweetie," Eleanor murmured, hugging her close.

"Freya," Ethan said, "let your mother change. We should start preparing dinner now so she can join us later."

Freya nodded and released Eleanor. Father and daughter headed downstairs to the kitchen while Eleanor slipped away to freshen up.

Since the duel, Ethan had cleared his schedule for every hour Freya was out of school. The workload at Purplebricks had surged after a sudden expansion into the Stockport market, but he delegated most tasks to his managers; time with his daughter was worth more than any contract. Eleanor’s own calendar had been packed, so she’d asked him to handle school pick‑ups for a few days, and he’d leapt at the chance.

Rumours drifted through the family about how, while he was locked in combat, Eleanor had shattered the Gerymoore Clan’s long-standing political base. Ethan had suspected she was planning something when she requested him to prolong the duel, yet he had never imagined she would cripple a Gerymoore Clan’s power base overnight. In Manchester’s business circles he was known as a ruthless businessman, but Eleanor’s actions redefined ruthlessness in his mind. She had destroyed the Brown family completely and severed the Gerymoore’s London-based political lifeline.

The Gerymoore Clan searched every corner possible for proof of Raynor involvement in their downfall, but found none. People whispered that the Raynors had orchestrated the downfall, yet without evidence the Gerymoores could do nothing. They had lost both inside the Coliseum and outside of it.

To outsiders, Ethan’s victory over Lucian Gerymoore had looked effortless; in truth, it had almost broken him. He possessed no extraordinary physical gifts... his power lay in calculation and prediction. He could foresee an attack’s trajectory and prepare an instant defence, but when two alphas clashed... that moment was vanishingly brief.

Lucian, a prodigy who had awakened his clan’s earth magic, boasted a body as resilient as granite and benefited by training from the renowned Fenroth Clan. Elder Bedivere had therefore drilled Ethan in a single technique: a rebounding counter that multiplied an opponent’s force but required landing at the precise center of the incoming blow. Ethan’s predictive talent made him uniquely suited, yet his lighter frame meant he spent most of the fight evading until that one decisive instant. When the rebound struck, Lucian fell... but Ethan bled inside.

Days later, he was still healing despite the best medicines. Endurance, however, had its rewards. In one bout, he became a star among werewolf youth. Calls and messages poured in... greetings, offers of partnership, invitations to parties. For a man who had lived quietly at the edge of every crowd, the attention was disorienting yet promising for his business ambitions.

For now, he cherished recovery and these golden hours with Freya. He told himself he was living the best days of his life.

Hand in hand, father and daughter descended the stairs... but before they reached the dining room, a cheerful voice rang from the front door.

"Good evening, Mr. Raynor! Darling Freya! I’ve come for dinner."

Anastasiya Ivanova swept inside, the picture of vivacity. Grand‑daughter of Lord Alexander Ivanov, the noble vampire who had accompanied Eleanor from Russia, she now lived permanently in Teresa’s villa. In mere weeks she had befriended Teresa, Cassandra, Lily, and Maya. Whether human or werewolf, few could resist her charm.

Traditionally, vampires and werewolves did not mingle, yet Anastasiya’s bright spirit had thawed the tension among the villa’s guards. After a brief period of wary silence, it became almost ordinary to see a vampire laughing beneath a werewolf roof.

"Aunt Ana! I don’t love you anymore."

Freya turned her small face away from Anastasiya. In only a few days, they had grown so close that Freya had shortened her name for convenience.

"Why is my darling angry with me?" Anastasiya asked, pulling an exaggeratedly woeful face. "If you don’t love me, I’ll cry."

"You promised to play with me today, but you forgot. You’re not the sweet aunt who loves me the most!" Freya huffed, still refusing to look at her.

"I didn’t forget," Anastasiya protested. "I just had a mountain of work at the office. Look... I brought you an apology present."

At the word ’present’, Freya’s ears twitched, though she kept her gaze averted. Anastasiya noticed the flicker of interest and pressed on.

"Can you guess what it is?"

"I don’t want your gift."

With a theatrical sigh, Anastasiya said, "I thought the new version of Assetto Corsa would be perfect for you. But if you don’t want it, I suppose I’ll give it to someone else."

Freya’s head snapped around. "But, Aunt Ana, I already have the latest update."

"This is a closed beta version... still unavailable in stores," Anastasiya replied, shaking the case. "I thought you’d like it."

Freya marched over and snatched the box. "All right, I guess I still love you a little." Her grin dazzled. "We’re getting dinner ready. You can join us."

Anastasiya punched the air in triumph. "Yay! Let’s eat together."

She glanced toward the stairs. "Where’s your mommy?"

"She went to change," Freya said. "She’ll be down after she freshens up."

"Straight from the office?"

Freya nodded. "Uh‑huh."

Ethan had watched the exchange from the side. He disliked how easily this vampire breezed into the house, yet Eleanor trusted her and Freya seemed to like her. Besides, though Anastasiya looked barely twenty, he knew she was far older and therefore potentially dangerous. He quelled his wariness and offered courtesy.

"Good evening, Miss Ivanova. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour."

Anastasiya beamed. "Thank you, Mr. Raynor. After tasting your cooking once, I couldn’t stay away."

"My daddy is the best," Freya declared.

"Indeed he is," Anastasiya agreed.

Ethan disappeared into the kitchen; Anastasiya and Freya took their seats in the dining room.

The first time Anastasiya met Freya, she was stunned... "Eleanor, so young, with a child this old?" Age mattered little in the supernatural world, yet the realization left her feeling unexpectedly behind. Time with Freya only deepened her longing for a family of her own.

Meeting Ethan brought fresh surprises. Eleanor, it turned out, was not born a Raynor; the surname came through marriage... or so Anastasiya had assumed. Greater shock followed when she learned Ethan and Eleanor were not married at all, yet Eleanor became the heir to the Raynor clan.

Among vampires, lineage purity is paramount; no outsider could ever lead a clan, no matter how powerful. A hybrid remained a hybrid, and even fully turned descendants were looked down upon. Anastasiya had first chalked it up to politics.

Then, she met Fiona Elizabeth Raynor, the formidable clan matriarch, and saw how fiercely Fiona cherished both Eleanor and Freya. Ethan’s parents were no different. Other relatives were absent, but over time, Anastasiya understood why werewolves thrived while vampires stagnated.

The secret lay in family dynamics. Werewolves welcomed anyone who joined the pack, judging worth by contribution, not birth. She watched Eleanor treat her werewolf guards, who were clearly from lesser clans... with genuine respect. In business, werewolves accepted orders from humans according to rank, working side by side without a hint of superiority.

Heimdall offered the clearest proof. Eleanor ran her empire through a handful of trusted humans. Teresa wielded vast authority; Anastasiya had seen her spend millions of dollars without even consulting Eleanor. Maya, Lily, Ava, Helena, James, Timini, Olivia, and other humans occupied key posts in her company.

Even here, in the villa complex, humans and werewolves lived in seamless harmony. Anastasiya could smell the wolves and sense their auras, yet they remained perfectly human in bearing so that no mortal sensed anything amiss.

At last, she grasped the root of Eleanor’s success... and of the Raynors’ ascent. They blended with humanity, valued it, harnessed it. Vampires, by contrast, clung to arrogance, viewing humans merely as food sources like cattle. And so, while werewolves flourished, vampires slipped further behind.

Freya, absorbed in a freshly downloaded game, scarcely noticed Anastasiya sitting beside her, lost in thought. Anastasiya was trying to understand how she, the impulsive visitor who had come to the kingdom on a whim... had become a part of an enterprise Eleanor was quietly building in her name. One rash decision, she reflected, and she was entangled beyond escape.

More than ten billion dollars from Eleanor now sat in an account bearing her signature. With a single transfer Eleanor had anchored her to the venture; fleeing was no longer an option. Heimdall’s project‑management team was already working around the clock to construct a new factory in Russia... on her own ancestral land. They had even assigned her an office in Heimdall’s headquarters, though in truth, Teresa and Lily directed day‑to‑day operations while she observed and learned.

Teresa’s choice of project manager still amazed her: a Russian female named Polina Kournikova. Kournikova held a PhD in Materials Science from the Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology and an MBA in Global Technology Operations from MIT Sloan. She had logged years at Microsoft, Google, and IBM before joining Eleanor’s space project in the United States.

Silently, she cursed her grandfather for thrusting her into this trap. She was now so deeply invested in the project that there was no turning back.