Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby
Chapter 104: She is Rich

Chapter 104: She is Rich

In the underground parking lot beside Imperial Haven, Knight Dimitry Petrov approached the young noble vampire who was still recovering from his earlier ordeal. Without a word, Dimitry handed him a small green juice pack. Though it looked like an ordinary drink box to the untrained eye, the pack contained something far more potent... specially refined human blood infused with healing herbs.

The young vampire, Roman Ivanov, accepted the pack with a grateful nod. He tore open the packaging and inserted the straw, then eagerly drank its contents. As the liquid slid down his throat, a warm surge of power spread through his body. The paleness in his face vanished almost instantly, and the visible injuries from his previous confrontation began healing at a rapid pace.

Vampires, as always, relied on blood as their primary food. But in the modern world, they no longer needed to drink it directly from human beings. Advances in biotechnology had revolutionized their dietary habits. Specialized companies now sourced the most potent human blood samples... usually from individuals with rare genetic markers or exceptional vitality, and cloned those samples in vast quantities. The cloned blood, once processed and enhanced with medicinal herbs, was sealed in containers indistinguishable from standard juice packs on the outside.

To the average human, these packs would seem harmless, even if accidentally consumed. The scent, taste, and consistency were altered to mimic fruit juice. But to vampires, each coloured pack served a specific purpose.

Green packs, like the one Roman had just consumed, were designed for rapid recovery and regeneration. Red packs helped suppress bloodlust. Yellow, pink, and white packs were commonly used for daily nourishment. However, these packs were not available in ordinary retail stores. Only vampire-operated shops, clubs, and gas stations were authorized to distribute them. Most clans maintained direct supply contracts with the manufacturers to ensure their stock never ran out.

Roman stood up with renewed energy, bowed slightly, and said, "Thank you, Sir Petrov. Thank you for saving my life."

Dimitry’s mouth twitched slightly. The young man had misunderstood the situation completely. He was never truly at risk of dying. All Dimitry had done was step in to stop him from receiving a much-deserved beating. But the sheer intensity of Eleanor Raynor’s killing intent must have convinced the boy otherwise.

Still, Dimitry chose not to correct him. Let him believe that, he thought. It’ll serve as a much-needed wake-up call. Maybe next time, he’ll learn to think before acting.

"It was no trouble," Dimitry said coolly. "How could I let a werewolf intrude on our turf and harm one of our own? But you were lucky. If my lord hadn’t instructed me to keep an eye on that girl, I wouldn’t have been there in time."

Then his tone hardened. "But you acted recklessly. You should have stayed back and observed. That was a one-on-one duel... a test of strength and discipline, not an open brawl. By interfering, you not only risked your life but disgraced your clan. My lord will not be pleased."

Roman lowered his head in shame. His ears turned red, and he clenched his fists in frustration.

Dimitry continued, "You are nearly a hundred years old, Roman. Yet you fail to understand the rules of supernatural combat. Death is not the goal unless explicitly declared. Injuries, even severe ones, are expected. Your subordinates were in no mortal danger. And now, to make matters worse, you were overpowered by a werewolf who hasn’t even reached thirty."

Roman looked up, stunned. "S-she’s that young?"

Dimitry nodded, his expression unreadable. "Indeed. And still, she was too much for you."

There was a long pause before he added, "You neglected your training and indulged too much in luxury. That’s why you didn’t even realize a powerful presence around you. You either didn’t read the rules of the supernatural world or ignored them... and that’s why you got involved in a fight that wasn’t yours to begin with. I think you should return to the clan and train for a while."

Roman’s shoulders slumped. "You’re right, Sir Petrov. I should return for more training. It was embarrassing to lose like that to a wolf. She was far too powerful for me."

He paused, then asked, "By the way, she didn’t display any abilities during the fight, did she? What’s her power?"

Dimitry smiled and replied, "She’s rich."

Roman thought he had misheard and blurted out, "What?"

Dimitry said again, "She’s rich. She has several hundred billion dollars under her name. As for her clan... no one knows much. What we do know is... they’re the richest clan in the world."

Roman immediately exclaimed, "The Raynor Clan!"

Dimitry nodded. "Yes. That was Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor, the Young Miss of the Raynor Clan... heir to one of the most powerful and wealthiest clans in the supernatural world. Future head of her clan and a soon-to-be member of the Werewolf Council. Why do you think the Lord asked me to follow her and why I showed her so much respect, even though she’s a werewolf and technically weaker than me?"

Roman simply nodded, overwhelmed. The revelation had shaken him to the core.

Dimitry said, "Now go and assess how much your organization has suffered today. I’m leaving for now. Make sure the information she asked for is ready... I’ll be back tomorrow morning."

With that, Dimitry vanished into the shadows. Moments later, he appeared at the front gate of Imperial Haven. Scanning the area, he confirmed that Eleanor and her team had already departed. He let out a breath of relief before disappearing once again.

***

In a vast hall adorned with crimson banners and gothic chandeliers, Lord Alexander Ivanov sat upon a throne carved from black obsidian and inlaid with rare gemstones. The very air around him seemed to hum with authority.

Before him knelt a tall man with grey hair and a steely gaze... Julian Vihren, one of his subordinates and the head of the Vihren Clan of Bulgaria. Julian had come to seek his support for a clan-related issue.

Alexander’s deep voice echoed slightly through the chamber. "Send a formal letter of complaint to the Danube Delta Clan of merfolk. Inform them that their recent activities in the Black Sea region are violating the rules of engagement between supernatural communities. Tell them you consulted me, and that I advised a formal diplomatic approach. Report back once you receive a reply."

Seated beside him was a striking young woman with icy blue eyes and an air of quiet authority... Anastasiya Ivanova, his granddaughter. She nodded in agreement.

"This is the third time, Grandfather," she said sharply. "The merfolk are pushing boundaries. We need to show strength."

Alexander sighed. "I know. But they’re still another race. If we act too harshly, we risk upsetting the balance of our alliances. That damned dragon already accuses us of bullying weaker races."

At that moment, Dimitry entered to the hall and knelt before the throne.

"Julian Vihren," Alexander said without looking away from Dimitry. "You are dismissed. Submit a full report of your actions to Bogdan Korolev."

Bogdan, the scribe standing behind the throne, nodded and made a note on his tablet. Julian bowed respectfully and exited the hall.

"Dimitry," Alexander said, leaning forward slightly. "You may speak."