Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen
Chapter 116: The Prophecy

Chapter 116: The Prophecy

Lethia hated that the sight before her made her think he looked hot. And... it was the same man who’d made her crave his touch since last night.

She shut her eyes tight and let out a slow breath, trying to calm her racing heart and get her blood circulation under control.

She was exhausted, and the last thing she needed was her body going into heat out of nowhere. All she wanted was to collapse into a soft bed and fall asleep.

She exhaled deeply and opened her eyes again, only to find Zeran still staring at her, waiting for an answer.

"Hm..." She gave a small nod. "These dresses demanded my attention, so I gave in. You don’t need to worr—"

"You could’ve burnt the whole store down and I wouldn’t care," he cut in, voice flat. "But why haven’t I received any bill notification? That must’ve cost millions."

Lethia blinked, unsure how to read his expression. How the hell could someone say something like burn the store down with a straight face? And yet he was apparently concerned about the bill?

"I didn’t use your card."

"Why?"

"Why?" She scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "And why the hell should I? I’ve still got my own money."

Zeran tilted his head, looking genuinely puzzled. "Do you have that much money?"

Lethia frowned, her mouth slightly parted as it hit her. People like Zeran only had access to official records. He probably had no idea about her private account.

And that account had just been stacked with millions last week, all thanks to Varrel suddenly deciding to pay alimony through his lawyer.

"Obviously. I just got my alimony a week ago."

He arched an eyebrow. "What alimony? So you bought a dress which was meant to be worn while accompanying me, with your ex-husband’s money?"

This man. He truly didn’t give a damn about anything that didn’t directly feed his ego.

Lethia could’ve burnt the entire mall to the ground or smuggled in hidden stashes of cash, and he wouldn’t bat an eye—as long as it didn’t shatter his pride.

"Are you deaf? I told you I got alimony. Which makes it my money, legally my right. Zeran Tuffin, let me warn you, I haven’t agreed to be your wife.

So don’t act like you can boss me around as you damn well please.

My body might be craving you right now, but that doesn’t mean you get to control my life however you like. No! Even if that’s your intention, I won’t let you!"

Her fists clenched, and her voice cracked at the edges. Her eyes and the tip of her nose stung, warning her that the tears were about to spill.

So she turned away, heading for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to vanish into her room.

But as she passed him, Zeran grabbed her arm, yanked her close, and pulled her against his chest.

His big palm cupped her cheek, and he could feel her body heating up under his touch. "You’re in heat. Is that why you’re getting all worked up over a simple question?"

Her eyes flickered with confusion. "Simple question? You—"

"Do you hate me that much?" His voice dropped, laced with quiet curiosity.

He genuinely couldn’t wrap his head around it, why Lethia always turned everything into something deeper, with hidden meaning?

Why couldn’t she just give a clear answer? Why she always assumed there was some twisted meaning underneath, and raised her irritation.

"That money... isn’t yours," he said, "because your ex-husband submitted your infidelity as the reason to deny you alimony.

That’s why I was confused and asked. Why did you suddenly receive alimony when the court had already ruled you had no right to it?"

Lethia’s eyes widened in bewilderment, and that was when it hit Zeran—her mention of alimony hadn’t been meant to provoke him at all, contrary to what he’d assumed from the start.

He had, admittedly, been irritated too, especially knowing she’d used that money to buy the dress.

But now it looked like she’d completely misunderstood his question and thought he was trying to control her.

"You didn’t know that?" he asked gently.

"Wh–what are you talking about?" Her voice trembled.

"I said what I said. You didn’t read the divorce agreement from the court?"

How the hell would she have checked that? No—she’d been too stupid not to.

Her fingers curled into his shirt before she pushed it, pulling herself back from the closeness that had made her cheeks burn hotter by the second.

"I... I didn’t know that. Last week, I got a call from his lawyer saying he needed to transfer the alimony. Since all my official accounts are under Ashcroft’s management, I gave him my private one," Lethia mumbled. She was still utterly baffled by what Varrel had done.

"That’s strange, then. There must be a hidden reason he did that," Zeran muttered through a clenched jaw. "I’ll cover everything you spent and send his money back as soon as possible."

"W–wait... why did you give the money?"

"Why?" he shot back. "Does it make you feel controlled? Am I controlling you? You’re the mother of my pup. Is it so wrong to make sure you’re not in trouble, so you don’t get stressed?"

Zeran wanted to add that her stress could endanger the pup, but for some reason, the words stopped at ’so you don’t get stressed.’

Lethia stared deep into his eyes, as if trying to uncover the real reason behind his words. Was it really about the pup she carried?

Or... was Zeran genuinely worried about her? But the longer she gazed into those blue eyes, the more that familiar sadness crept back in. She looked away.

"Rather than wrong... I just—I feel uncomfortable. I don’t like being indebted to anyone. And... your ways, they keep getting on my nerves. So I don’t even know what to do with you," she muttered, not caring how ridiculous her rambling sounded anymore.

"So what is it, then? What would make you comfortable?" he asked. "I’ve told you—I hate small talk. So just be blunt with me."

Zeran found it strange—himself, even. He needed Lethia to give birth safely to his pup.

Then why was he investing so much damn energy in her?

Why did he care so much if she trusted him or not?

Why couldn’t he just treat her like a surrogate and walk away after it was done?

Why did it matter if she lived or died after delivering?

Why was he so desperate to marry her and prove a superstition that might not even be true?

The prophecy his mother once told him—that marking her would save her life.

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