Alpha's Rejected becomes the Lycan's Obsession-Chapter 9: Happy birthday, wife

At the sight of the latest addition to the number of people in the house, a familiar wave of fear and curiosity swept through everyone, tightening the air like a coiled spring. The room, once filled with the tension of family drama, now felt like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

There were a few individuals in the country whom no one dared to cross or provoke, and Trevor Baliante was at the top of that list. Ironically, he was the most harmless-looking of them all—tall, impeccably dressed, with a calm demeanor that belied the danger he represented. He was also the biggest investor in the Smith Brown's family's business, a fact that made his presence even more unnerving.

No one knew how he did it, but everyone who had ever crossed him had ended up in dire straits—bankrupt, disgraced, or simply vanished. The police had never found Trevor at fault, and his reputation for being untouchable only added to the aura of fear surrounding him. He was also one of the few businessmen allowed to have heavily armed guards for no apparent reason, a privilege that spoke volumes about his influence.

So, seeing him in their presence at that moment, flanked by armed men and wearing that unnervingly calm smile, could only mean one thing: trouble. Their fear was entirely justified, and it hung heavy in the room like a storm cloud.

Tessy and Freya were the most affected. Tessy's heart pounded violently in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears like a drum. Her hands trembled, and her breath came in shallow gasps.

Freya, though slightly more composed, felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. Their eyes widened as if they might pop out of their sockets, and they exchanged glances, silently acknowledging that what they had feared most had finally caught up to them.

Tessy willed herself to calm down, but the more she tried, the worse her anxiety became. It felt as though the devil himself was after her, his shadow looming closer with every passing second. She could almost feel his breath on her neck, his claws tightening around her throat.

"Mr. Baliante, to what do we owe such an unexpected visit?" Mrs. Smith Brown asked cautiously, forcing a faint smile as she alternated her gaze between her son, who still had a gun pointed at his head, and the man she was addressing. Her voice wavered slightly, betraying her fear despite her attempt to appear composed.

"Pleasure seeing you again, Mrs. Smith Brown," Trevor greeted with a smile that starkly contrasted the tension his presence had created. His voice was smooth, almost soothing, but it did nothing to ease the anxiety in the room. "Put the gun away, Julius. That's no way to treat our hosts." He spoke without looking at the man he was referring to, and the gun was immediately withdrawn from Francis's head.

The relief on Francis's face was palpable, though he remained rigid, his eyes darting nervously between Trevor and his men.

"Good evening, Mrs. Francis," Trevor greeted Tessy with a polite smile, his gaze lingering on her just long enough to make her heart skip a beat. She could feel the weight of his attention, like a spotlight shining directly on her, exposing every flaw and fear. But another heart was pounding alongside hers—Freya's, though she tried to hide it.

Tessy couldn't bring herself to respond verbally. Her throat felt dry, and her voice seemed to have abandoned her. She didn't trust it to remain steady, so she simply nodded at him, forcing a smile onto her face that felt more like a grimace.

Trevor's perfect smile didn't waver as he shifted his attention to the second person whose heart was beating abnormally fast.

"Hello, Miss Freya Stanford," he greeted Freya, noting the slight surprise that flashed across her features for a moment. "The one who thought I hit my head too hard and suffered a concussion."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Baliante. I was only doing my job," Freya responded, willing her racing heart to slow down. But the fact that he had called out her full name made her think only the worst. How much did he know about her?

"And you did your job very well. Thank you for saving my life," Trevor complimented, his tone genuine but laced with an underlying edge that sent a shiver down her spine.

He then shifted his gaze to the third young woman in the room. She was the only calm person in the house, and he wondered why that was. The fear evident on everyone else's faces was absent from hers. Instead, she was staring at him with a kind of longing he knew all too well.

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"Hello, Miss or Mrs...." he trailed off, and just as expected, she introduced herself.

"Rachel. Miss Rachel Wallace."

Trevor gave her a curt nod before addressing the room, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable authority.

"Please pardon our manners and method of entry. That was done to ensure no one gets hurt here tonight. Believe me, we will all part ways happily if everyone cooperates. My boss is here. I strongly advise that no one pisses him off. He can do more damage than these guns. Thanks in advance for your cooperation, and may these men with guns instill enough fear in you to avoid bigger problems."

Throughout his speech, Trevor maintained his smile, as if what he was saying wasn't serious. As soon as he stopped talking, he took a few steps back toward the door and signaled to someone outside.

Knowing his boss, trouble was bound to break out, and blood would spill if he encountered any resistance to his mission. That was the sole reason Trevor had suggested entering the house first to prepare the ground and the people.

"Does this have anything to do with the company, Mr. Baliante?" Francis summoned the courage to ask, speaking for the first time since Trevor and his men had arrived. His voice was shaky, and his face was pale, but he managed to get the words out.

"Oh... Rest assured, this is not a business visit, Mr. Francis. This is a personal visit," Trevor responded, his smile never faltering.

The man in the gray suit outside, who had received Trevor's signal, opened the door of the second of three cars parked outside, bowing his head as Roman stepped out.

Clad in a plain sky-blue shirt and black pants, Roman walked majestically toward the house, his steps fluid and determined. His presence was commanding, and even from a distance, it was clear that he was the one in charge.

As soon as he stepped inside, his lazy, ocean-blue eyes sought out the one whose thoughts had occupied his mind and whose scent was driving him insane.

The moment he locked eyes with her, one side of his lips curled up in satisfaction. She was everything he had hoped and imagined she would be. She was perfect for him.

He could see the fear in her eyes and hear the rapid, hard beating of her heart. He knew he was the reason for that reaction, and it strangely brought him joy. After all, how else was he supposed to claim the treasure before him?

As if to add fuel to the already burning fire, he opened his mouth to speak, keeping the smirk on his face.

"Happy birthday, wife."