Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby
Chapter 134: Before Midnight

Chapter 134: Before Midnight

After a long and exhausting day spent on public service and political duties, Baroness Angela Dodson of Kesteven finally returned to her estate. The moment she stepped inside, she kicked off her heels with a tired sigh. The weight of responsibility had settled deep into her bones. She headed straight to the bath.

Steam curled around her curvy figure she maintained despite her age as she soaked in the scented water, letting the heat seep into her muscles. It was an alluring scene for any man to turn hard. When she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a luxurious white bathrobe and with her damp hair tied loosely, she felt a measure of comfort returning to her body.

However, the peace was short-lived.

As she entered her bedroom, her breath caught in her throat.

A woman sat silently on her bedside rocking chair, entirely cloaked in black. Her face was partially hidden beneath a veil, her presence so sudden and unsettling that it sent a jolt of fear up Angela’s spine.

She hadn’t heard a door open. No alarms had been triggered. No warnings had reached her from her trained security team stationed at every entrance.

Angela instinctively glanced toward the discreet panic button beneath her bedside table, but before she could make a move, the woman spoke in a calm and measured voice.

"Lady Angela Dodson of Kesteven, Co-Chairman of the Opposition Party. Am I speaking to the right person?"

Angela’s mind raced. Whoever this woman was, she had bypassed a security system run by former military professionals. That alone told her this was no ordinary intruder.

Choosing diplomacy over confrontation, she answered cautiously, "Yes, I am Angela. May I know who you are and why you’ve broken into my private quarters?"

The woman gave a faint shrug. "Forgive the intrusion. But it was the only way to ensure your dignity remains intact."

Angela frowned. "I don’t understand. Have I wronged you somehow?"

The woman shook her head. "Not at all. In fact, I knew nothing of you before today. I am simply delivering a message on behalf of my employer."

Without another word, she held up a mobile phone and tilted it toward Angela, playing a video without hesitation.

Angela’s face drained of color.

On the screen was clear footage of her and her driver... engaged in an intimate act. The camera angle suggested a hidden device... one planted with precision. Her cheeks flushed crimson with humiliation, and she instinctively looked away.

"How... How did you get this?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The woman replied coolly, "How we obtained it is irrelevant. What matters is that you now understand why I’m here."

Angela sank onto the edge of her bed, her confidence unraveling with every second.

She remained silent for several moments, hands clenched in her lap.

Finally, she looked up and whispered, "What do you want from me?"

"Very little," said the woman. "All we ask is your cooperation. Follow our instructions when the time comes, and we’ll ensure your name and legacy remain untainted."

"And if I refuse?" Angela asked, though the answer was already evident in her mind.

"You may choose between disgrace and irrelevance," the woman said. "Or worse... death or prison."

Angela took a sharp breath. "I haven’t committed any crimes by having a relationship with my driver. The worst that could happen is losing my parliamentary seat."

The woman nodded with a faint smile. "Then perhaps this will change your mind."

She reached into her jacket and pulled out a black folder, which she placed gently on the bed beside Angela.

"Please," she said, "read it carefully."

With shaky hands, Angela opened the folder. Her eyes scanned the contents. Page after page revealed sensitive financial records... undisclosed assets, anonymous offshore accounts, and internal memos showing shady financial dealings she thought were long buried. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"How... how did you get these?" she gasped.

"Your assistant is far too careless," the woman replied with mild amusement. "If you ever need help managing your illegal assets more securely, contact us. We protect what belongs to our own."

Angela closed the folder slowly and stared at it with haunted eyes. Then, reluctantly, she nodded. "I agree. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just... don’t ruin me."

The woman stood. "A wise choice. You’re valuable, Lady Dodson. As long as you remain useful, we’ll keep you protected."

She pulled a small pen drive from her pocket and handed it to Angela.

"A gift," she said. "Inside are incriminating documents against your political rival. Use them in the next election campaign. We trust you’ll know how to make the most of it."

Angela accepted the device in silence, her fingers trembling as she clutched it tightly.

***

Meanwhile, elsewhere in London...

Baron Ernest Prentice of Hampton, the Chairman of the National Convention of the Opposition Party, had just exited a reunion party with his old college friends. He was tipsy, humming to himself and walking with a nostalgic smile on his face. The alcohol warmed him, but not enough to dull his sense of direction.

He reached his parked car and slid into the backseat. The driver silently started the engine.

"Let’s go home," Ernest said casually.

The car moved forward smoothly. Ernest leaned back, content. He was in high spirits after reconnecting with old friends. The world outside passed in a blur, but something gnawed at the back of his mind.

The silence was... unnatural.

"Hey," he said, "play my favorite song, will you? That Enigma track... ’Silence Must Be Heard.’"

Moments later, the opening notes of the haunting melody filled the car. He closed his eyes and began singing softly under his breath:

"Look into the others eyes, many frustrations

Read between the lines, no words just vibrations

Don’t ignore hidden desires

Pay attention, you’re playing with fire

Silence must be heard, noise should be observed

The time has come to learn, that silence

Silence must be heard

Or diamonds will burn, friendly cards will turn

Cause silence has the right to be heard

People talk too much for what they have to say

Words without a meaning, just fading away

Silence must be heard, noise should be observed

The time has come to learn, that silence

Silence must be heard

Or diamonds will burn, friendly cards will turn

Cause silence has the right to be heard..."

But as the final verse faded away, a strange unease settled in his gut.

He opened his eyes and looked out the window.

The scenery had changed. The familiar lights of London were gone. In their place were tall, shadowed trees and an empty dirt path. His car was parked deep in a wooded area. Panic flickered through him. Something was wrong.

He turned sharply to look at the driver... and froze.

The man’s face was completely covered in black. Every inch of him was clad in the same dark fabric.

"Who are you?" Ernest asked, voice tight with alarm.

The man turned his head calmly. "Ah, finally awake."

He reached over and switched on the car’s overhead light, then handed Ernest a black folder.

"Before we speak," he said, "you should take a look at this."

With trembling hands, Ernest opened the folder. He didn’t even make it past the second page before the cold sweat began to form on his forehead.

There it was... his hidden bank accounts, records of bribes, photos of illicit meetings, even screenshots of emails and surveillance footage. Every piece of dirt that could destroy him in an instant.

His intoxication vanished in a flash. He was stone-cold sober now. He looked up at the faceless figure behind the wheel in a panic.

After his panic began to subside, Baron Ernest Prentice let out a long, helpless sigh. The tension in his shoulders remained, but his voice was steady... at least on the surface.

"What do you want from me?" he asked hoarsely.

"I like smart men," the driver said with a chuckle. "Nothing too complicated. Just follow our instructions when the time comes. That’s all."

Ernest clenched his jaw, thinking through the implications. "Very well," he said finally. "But I have one condition. Please... don’t make me do anything that will harm my country."

The driver laughed, the sound echoing chillingly in the stillness of the car. "You may be a corrupt politician, Baron, but you’re a patriotic one. That’s rare these days. I respect that." He nodded approvingly. "For that reason... and because you’re now one of us... I have a little gift for you."

He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out another black folder. With a smirk beneath the mask, he handed it to Ernest.

Curious but cautious, Ernest opened it... only for his eyes to widen in fury.

Inside were high-resolution photographs, vivid and undeniable. His wife and his driver was having passionate sex together.

He exploded in rage. "That bastard! I’ll kill him! Where is he?!"

The driver calmly crossed his arms and said, "No need to worry. Your driver is with the gods now. May his soul rest in peace."

Ernest froze. "What?" he gasped, nearly choking on his own breath.

"I figured you’d react this way," the masked man said, his tone eerily casual. "So I did you a favor. I took care of him in advance."

He gestured toward a copper jar placed on the dashboard. "His body is no longer your problem. Only his ashes remain. Consider it closure."

Ernest stared at the jar in stunned silence, unable to process the surreal horror of what he had just heard.

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