The Hamptons estate was less a house and more a minimalist glass fortress perched above the crashing Atlantic waves. It was beautiful, sterile, and entirely Elara. Ryan felt the same suffocating sense of control here as he did in her corporate tower. It was neutral ground, as dictated by the contract, but neutrality in Elara's world meant her dominance was simply masked by expensive landscaping.
He arrived promptly at 9:55 AM on Saturday, not daring to be late. He was dressed in high-end, comfortable civilian clothes—no suits, no Alpha symbols. He even consciously muted his natural scent, reducing the powerful pine and rain notes to something closer to a subtle, fresh cologne. He carried a single, oversized gift bag containing two identical, high-tech drones he'd bought on impulse—tools of aerial superiority, instinctively chosen by his Alpha mind.
Elara met him on the manicured lawn. She wore tailored white linen, looking impossibly serene against the backdrop of the ocean. She was accompanied by Marcus, the enormous bodyguard, who stood two paces behind her like a sentinel carved from stone.
"Alpha Lycan," she greeted him, her voice perfectly polite, devoid of warmth.
"Elara," he replied, keeping his voice level. He ignored the title she used. "I brought gifts." He extended the bag.
Elara didn't take it. She merely nodded to Marcus, who intercepted the bag and carried it to a side table. "Any item introduced must be checked for hidden recording devices or scent-marking material. It will be returned later, or confiscated, depending on the findings."
Ryan swallowed his anger. The humiliation was a steady stream. He was being treated like a rogue—a dangerous criminal trying to smuggle contraband.
"Where are they?" he asked, trying to project only parental anxiety.
"Inside. They are nervous," Elara said, her gaze sweeping over his face, searching for any hint of the Alpha wolf. "They are not accustomed to strange men yelling in their space. Please remember Clause 5.2. No commands. No coercion."
She led him through the glass doors into a large, sunlit playroom. It was filled with educational toys, complex puzzles, and shelves overflowing with books. It was a room designed to cultivate genius, not raw power.
The twins were sitting cross-legged on a rug, heads bent over a schematic drawing. They looked up as Ryan entered. Two pairs of amber eyes—his eyes—stared at him with the same detached, analytical curiosity he had seen in the park.
"Boys, this is Ryan," Elara said simply. "He's a colleague of mine. He's here to play with you for a little while."
Colleague? Ryan wanted to scream the truth: I am your father! Your Alpha! But the word "colleague" hung heavy, another layer of Elara's control.
He knelt down, forcing himself to appear small and non-threatening. He offered a genuine, nervous smile. "Hi, Elias. Hi, Leo. It's nice to meet you."
Elias, the twin who had sneezed the scarf, spoke first. "You were the man who stole my scarf."
Leo immediately added, without looking up, "A gentleman returns what he takes, Mr. Ryan."
Ryan froze. They hadn't just seen him; they remembered him, and they viewed him as a petty thief. Elara watched from the doorway, a ghost of satisfaction in her posture.
"You're right," Ryan said, choosing honesty over denial. "I apologize. I was… looking for something very important, and I shouldn't have taken it. I brought you something better to make up for it." He pointed to the gift bag Marcus had just cleared. "Drones."
Elias and Leo glanced at the bag, then dismissed it instantly. "We are mapping the internal structure of the Lycan Holdings tower," Elias explained, pointing to the drawing. "It is structurally unsound, according to Mother's projections."
They were discussing his family's financial doom.
Ryan tried to engage on their level, attempting a soft, Alpha-like tone that encouraged them. "That's very smart. But maybe we can take a break? I could show you how to throw a spiral pass outside?"
"Throwing is imprecise," Leo stated, adjusting a small, block-based structure. "We prefer calculation. Do you know how to build a gravity well?"
Ryan, who commanded an army of shapeshifters, suddenly felt like the most idiotic person on the planet. He was completely out of his depth. He couldn't alpha-command intellectual curiosity. He couldn't gift-bribe genius.
He looked over at Elara, a silent plea in his eyes. Help me.
Elara didn't move, but her voice was a cool breeze of advice. "Elias and Leo respond to knowledge, Ryan. Not just toys."
Taking her reluctant cue, Ryan changed tactics. He knelt again, looking at the complex schematic they were working on. He stopped trying to be an Alpha and simply became a focused man trying to solve a puzzle.
"This is fascinating," he said, genuinely. "But I think you might be calculating the thermal expansion incorrectly for the tensile strength of the exterior supports."
Elias and Leo looked up at him, their identical amber eyes now alight with genuine interest. "Show us," Elias demanded.
Ryan spent the next hour doing what he did best, outside of ruling a pack: strategizing and calculating. He didn't use wolf knowledge; he used his business school degree, his experience in construction, and his high intelligence. He showed them a quick formula for stress testing a beam and explained the difference between commercial-grade steel and the reinforced Lycan alloys (without mentioning the alloys' origin).
They were captivated. They didn't see the Alpha; they saw the teacher.
He watched Elara in the doorway. She hadn't moved. The ice around her eyes had thawed slightly, replaced by a subtle, almost approving vigilance. She was seeing the man she had briefly bonded with—the intelligent, focused, non-Alpha Ryan.
When the timer on Elara's phone chimed—signaling the four-hour limit—the boys groaned in disappointment.
"Can Ryan stay and help us finish the tensile strength diagram, Mother?" Leo asked, using his quiet, persuasive tone.
Elara walked over, her face returning to its CEO mask. "Time is up, boys. We have tutors coming." She looked at Ryan, her expression unreadable. "You were surprisingly… helpful, Mr. Ryan."
The backhanded compliment stung, but Ryan ignored it. He stood up, towering over the boys, and offered a simple, non-commanding farewell. "I'll bring the right calculations next time, guys. You keep building."
As Ryan was escorted back to the private elevator, he paused in the foyer.
"You enjoyed seeing me struggle, didn't you?" he asked Elara.
"Yes," she admitted, without hesitation. "But I also saw you set aside the Alpha to connect with your sons. The agreement is about them, Ryan. Keep doing that, and you will see them again next week."
He knew she meant it. The rejection was still a chasm between them, but the boys were a bridge, fragile and demanding, that neither of them could afford to burn. Ryan left, the metallic scent of his sons clinging to his shirt. He was bruised, but he was victorious. He was in the cage, but he was close to the powerful heirs he desperately needed.