The Alpha's Billion-dollar Legacy

Chapter One

The evening air bit at my skin as I trudged home, the cold seeping into my bones like an old memory I couldn’t shake. Today felt off. The streets were unnaturally quiet, save for the occasional whisper of wind through the bare trees. The scent of roasting and frying wafted from neighboring houses, dragging me back to moments I preferred not to relive—family dinners, my mother’s warm smile, and the taste of happiness that now felt foreign on my tongue.

I sighed and pressed forward. The city felt drained tonight, hollow. Unlike the days when rain would drench my clothes and soak through my briefcase, the snow now coated the ground like a hushed promise of the holidays. Christmas was closing in.

By the time I reached my apartment, my toes throbbed from the long walk. I’d been saving every penny, stretching my meager salary to buy food for myself and Timmy, the old man who slept on the bench outside my building.

Timmy was in his late eighties and spent his days tidying up the flatlet out of a quiet sense of duty. The least I could do was repay his kindness with a hot meal now and then.

“You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble, master,” Timmy said as I handed him the bag. His frail body shivered, snowflakes settling in his white hair.

“My conscience wouldn’t let me rest if I didn’t,” I replied, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “Eat up and sleep, old man. Tomorrow’s another day.”

Timmy nodded, gratitude etched into the lines of his face, and I left him to his meal.

This was my life now—simple, repetitive, and devoid of excitement. It had been this way since my father died. To outsiders, it might seem tragic, but I had learned to hide the cracks in my facade.

When the news came, I was an undergraduate at Lockhart University. Naive. Unprepared. By the time I returned home, I found myself in possession of a vast estate—and an even larger burden. My father’s will, handed over by my smug uncle, gave me a year to find a suitable companion. If I failed, everything would go to him but that wasn't the case, I'm a werewolf you see but my inner wolf has gone dormant for no reason.

I stepped into my cramped single room, closing the door behind me. The dim light flickered on, illuminating the worn furnishings and stacks of papers on my rickety table. My world now fit within these four walls: a sagging bed, a patched ceiling, and a barely working TV.

Shrugging off my coat, I opened my briefcase. Inside were documents from Solaria Bank, where I worked as a low-level clerk. My days were spent manually recording deposits and withdrawals. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the rent.

As I spread the files across the table, I realized I’d left my pen at the office. "Damn it," I muttered. A glance at the dead wall clock confirmed my suspicions—it wasn’t ticking. With a sigh, I dug through my pockets. A few cents rattled in my palm—enough for a pen.

The streets were colder as I walked to the mini-mart. My breath fogged the air as I mumbled numbers under my breath, mentally calculating tomorrow’s transactions.

“Hey, Auston,” the storekeeper Chris greeted me with a wave. “In a rush?”

“Yeah, just need a pen,” I replied. Minutes later, I had my purchase and was heading home.

That’s when I saw them—a group of men shoving a woman against a wall. Her cries cut through the night, sending a shiver down my spine.

I hesitated. People passed by, eyes fixed on the ground. My instinct screamed to walk away. But then she screamed again, and something inside me snapped.

Gripping the pen tightly, I stepped into the alley.

“Let her go,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

The thugs turned, sneering. One of them, tattooed and hulking, laughed. “You’ve got guts, kid. Pity you won’t have them for long.”

“I said, let her go,” I repeated.

Their laughter echoed. “Oh, we’ll walk away—after we’re done with you.”

The first punch landed square on my nose. Pain shot through me as I stumbled, blood dripping down my face. Before I could react, they were on me—kicking, punching, and beating me to the ground.

As the blows rained down, I reached deep, clawing for the beast within. I felt it stir, felt the hair prickle and grow, the promise of power just beneath my skin. But then—nothing. The wolf refused to break free. I tried, I fought for it, but it stayed buried, leaving me alone in the storm.

The woman, Eve, screamed and tried to intervene, but they shoved her aside. She hit the wall hard, collapsing in a heap.

I wanted to fight, but my body refused. The world blurred as a crowbar struck my ribs. Pain exploded through me.

Then, a gunshot rang out. The thugs scattered.

Chris stood at the alley’s mouth, a shotgun in hand. He rushed to my side. “Auston! Are you alive?!”

Barely. The broken pen slipped from my fingers as darkness claimed me.