Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby
Chapter 112: The Two Thrones

Chapter 112: The Two Thrones

Maya stood in front of Eleanor, holding a tablet in her hand, her expression grim.

"A team from our U.S. division just visited the Indian companies," she began. "They’ve suggested several improvements to our previous strategies for each company, but there’s a common problem we can’t ignore... security and management are severely lacking. The employees are so casual that they have no concept of company secrecy or confidentiality. We need to deploy our own security personnel immediately."

She paused, then looked up at Eleanor with concern in her eyes. "Also, we need to assess which of their employees we can retain long-term. Everyone must sign confidentiality agreements, and we’ll need to train them on how to meet the standards of our company."

Eleanor nodded thoughtfully. "It’s okay. I’ve been planning to visit India for some time now. Looks like I’ll have to go sooner than expected. I’ll personally oversee the security situation there."

She turned to her computer and quickly tapped a message to Lily.

"As for the training programs," she added aloud, "ask Lily to send a team from our administrative and legal departments. Explain the situation to her thoroughly... she’ll know what to do."

She looked at Maya again. "Send Teresa in on your way out."

Maya nodded and left the room. A moment later, Teresa entered.

"Boss, you called for me?"

"Yes. I’m planning an urgent trip to India," Eleanor replied. "Check my schedule and clear any conflicts so I can arrange an appointment as soon as possible."

"There’s nothing critical in your schedule for the next few days. Everything’s flexible," Teresa said. "Who should I call for the appointment?"

"Not you. I need to make this call personally."

Eleanor picked up her phone and dialed Fiona. The call was answered almost instantly.

"Grandma, I need to schedule a meeting with the matriarch of Harivamsa Clan," she said briskly.

"I’ll send you the number of the Clan Head’s secretary," Fiona replied without hesitation. "He should be able to handle the appointment."

"And if there’s any trouble, just let me know. I’ll speak directly to the Clan Head."

"Thanks, Grandma."

Moments later, Eleanor received the contact information and placed the call.

"Hello, I’m Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor of the Raynor Clan," she said when the line connected. "I’d like to request an appointment with Reverend Sarika Somavati Harivansha. Please convey the message to her."

"Ah! It’s an honor to hear from you, Young Miss Raynor," came the polite voice on the other end. "The Reverend One is currently in a meeting with His Highness, the Heir Apparent. I was instructed not to disturb her unless it’s a matter of life or death."

"This isn’t urgent. Just let her know I need an appointment at her earliest convenience."

"Understood. I’ll inform her after the meeting."

"Thank you," Eleanor said, ending the call.

She turned back to Teresa. "Maya needs support at the Indian companies. Talk to her and make arrangements. I want the Indian branches to begin production as soon as possible. Also, send someone from our legal team to draft new employment contracts and confidentiality agreements. You already know how to shape a company to match our standards."

"Understood. I’ll get on it right away," Teresa responded, and left the office.

Eleanor then opened her phone and checked the WhatsApp group created for Freya’s school moms. There were over a hundred new messages. She skimmed through them and realized the group still hadn’t finalized a venue for their outing.

After deciding to follow up on the group chat later, she opened the live feed from Freya’s school, watching her daughter play classmates and solving puzzles. The sight brought a rare smile to her face.

She then began clearing the piled up works. After finishing her paperwork, she closed her laptop and left her office... it was time to pick up Freya from school.

As she exited the elevator, Ethan’s car was already waiting for her.

"You’re early," she said as she entered his car.

"I like to be early when it’s about Freya," Ethan replied with a small smile.

They drove off to the school in silence, the comfort of routine enveloping them.

***

In the heart of an obsidian citadel, beneath a vaulted ceiling etched with constellations drawn from ancient werewolf bloodlines, sprawled the throne room of House Lychos... the ruling clan of the werewolves. Vast and echoing, the hall seemed to breathe with silence older than any living soul within its walls. The hush was broken only by the occasional gust of wind curling through towering arched windows of crystal glass.

Each pane shimmered faintly, catching flashes of distant lightning from thunderclouds gathering over the high peaks of snowing mountain. It was as though nature itself had come to bear witness, baring its teeth in allegiance to the absent King.

At the far end of the hall, upon a dais carved from midnight-black stone laced with golden veins, stood two thrones.... symbols of legacy and power.

The first, at the center, loomed with somber authority. It was hewn from black marble veined with fossilized amber, like lightning captured in stone. Its high back towered like jagged mountains, and above it hung a banner stitched in gold: wolves mid-howl beneath a crescent moon. This was the throne of Damon Brontes Lychos, the King of Werewolves. It stood vacant now... silent, formidable, and cold... its emptiness a thunderclap of absence.

To its right, smaller yet no less noble, stood the throne of the High Apparent. Crafted from white iron and polished oak, it was etched with runes of inheritance and storm. Upon it sat Erevan Brontes Lychos, the crown prince. Draped in a golden-edged cloak that spilled like moonlight down the steps, Erevan sat upright, a sculpture of poise and power. A lightning-shaped tattoo beneath his eye flickered with subtle energy, the dormant strength of his lineage stirring in his veins.

He did not fidget or lean. His posture was that of someone carrying the weight of an entire race upon his back... silent but commanding, still but alert.

Flanking the twin thrones in crescent formations were ten high-backed chairs, carved with the crests of the Great Houses. Today, they were empty, their absence a testament to the lack of formal council. This was not a day for politics or ceremony. This was a day of omens.

Beside the throne of the High Apparent sat the only occupied chair... one reserved for the High Priest of the werewolves.

Sarika Somavati Harivamsa, the Revered One of the Werewolf Council, sat cloaked in twilight-hued silks. Runes inlaid with gemstones glimmered faintly upon her sleeves. Her long braid of silver hair reached the floor, and from her neck hung the Crescent Fang... an ancient relic said to have been carved from the tooth of the first werewolf of her bloodline.

Her eyes were half-closed, yet all-seeing. She watched Erevan not as a subject to a ruler, but as a seer to a storm not yet broken. The scent of Incense and old parchment lingered in the air. The air itself seemed charged, as though the very stones waited to listen, to bear witness to whatever decree or destiny would next thunder through these hallowed halls.