166 Legacy Of Ashes
Lucian
“You were named after your grandfather,” Lydia said, her tone softening briefly. “Alpha Lucian Redlock. He was already gravely ill by then, and your grandmother had passed. There wasn’t much he could do, but even in his condition, he said he never doubted Vander’s love for Natasha. And because of that, he let them be.”
I sat motionless, listening as the puzzle pieces of my family’s past began slotting into place-only they didn’t paint the picture I’d always believed in.
“The marriage seemed to flourish in public,” Lydia continued. “But behind closed doors… your mother wasn’t happy. She struggled to conceive. And your father-he loved her, yes-but that love turned cruel when she couldn’t give him an heir.”
She paused, her eyes flickering with restrained anger. “He told her he was the last of the Nighthorn line. That the bloodline
couldn’t end with him. That it mustn’t. And every passing year without a child became another burden on Natasha’s
shoulders.”
My stomach turned. I could see it now-my mother, proud and strong, reduced to despair by the weight of expectations
and legacy.
“After five years of trying, she gave up,” Lydia said quietly. “Not on him. Not on love. On the idea that her body would ever
cooperate. She ovulated, but she never conceived. So she told Vander to get a surrogate. Someone who could carry their
child. She wanted him to be happy, even if it meant watching another woman do what she couldn’t.”
Lydia’s voice cracked, but she went on.
“He was hesitant at first-said he was reluctant-but soon enough, he agreed. They didn’t want anyone to know, so they came here, to Neev, looking for women from Goldenpeak who’d be discreet and willing.”
I tensed. “Why not go to Goldenpeak directly?”
“Because it was dangerous,” Lydia answered. “Violence, poor healthcare, unstable systems. And Neev had better hospitals, better cover. My mother and I were living here at the time. When we found out what they were planning, my mother objected. Strongly. She didn’t approve of surrogacy-especially not the way it was being done.”
She drew a breath, anger bubbling just beneath the surface now.
“Natasha didn’t want it either. But Vander had worn her down. She felt she had no choice. She loved him too much. And
when they arrived here…” Lydia looked away, jaw clenched, “he used it as an excuse. An opening.”
I frowned. “Excuse for what?”
“For cheating,” she said flatly. “He started sleeping with women-many from Goldenpeak. Women he was never supposed to touch. They were meant to find a surrogate, Lucian. Not mistresses. But Vander…”
Her voice dropped into a growl.
*…he indulged himself. Lavished them with gifts. Spent my cousin’s money, Lucian Redlock’s money, to play house with loose women who were supposed to be helping your parents grow a family, not destroy it.”
A thick silence filled the room. My chest tightened.
I didn’t like where this story was going.
But I had a sinking feeling that what came next would change everything.
“When Natasha found out what Vander was doing,” Lydia continued, her voice low and edged with sorrow, “she was
1/3
< 166 Legacy Of Ashes
furious. Betrayed. She threatened him with divorce-told him she wouldn’t be humiliated, not after everything she’d sacrificed.”
I clenched my fists, already dreading what came next.
+8 Points >
“He begged her,” Lydia said, eyes distant as though reliving the moment. “Apologised, promised to stop. And she believed him-maybe out of love, maybe out of exhaustion. They left Neev and returned to Goldenpeak. But the damage was done. The marriage was cracked beyond repair. She was ready to walk away.”
She paused, the silence heavy.
“But then… she discovered she was pregnant.”
I stiffened.
“My mother begged her to leave him, even then. Told her the child would be better off away from that man. But Natasha refused. She didn’t want her baby growing up in a broken home. She wanted to give him-you-a family, even if it meant enduring pain to do it.”
I felt a knot twist inside my chest.
“She was carrying a boy,” Lydia went on. “And when she found out, everything changed. She renamed the accounts. Transferred the company shares. Changed the beneficiary name to Lucian Nighthorn.”
I looked at her sharply, and she nodded.
“She said she wanted her son to carry her father’s name-so that Alpha Lucian’s name would live on. But she also knew Vander. She didn’t trust him. So she wrote a will.”
Lydia’s voice took on a grave tone now.
“She added a strict clause that barred your father from controlling the shares. He wasn’t allowed to sell, transfer, or
manipulate them. If anything happened to her, Vander could only serve as caretaker-never owner. The assets were yours, to inherit when you came of age.”
A shiver ran through me.
I knew this part was true. It matched exactly what was written in my mother’s official testament-the one I’d seen years
ago. But hearing it from someone else’s lips, someone who wasn’t supposed to know… made it real in a new, disturbing
way.
“To make sure there would be no foul play,” Lydia added, her voice trembling slightly, “she made three copies of the will.
Each entrusted to someone she believed would protect you if she couldn’t.”
She stood and walked across the room to a wooden cupboard. From it, she retrieved an aged manilla envelope, yellowed
at the edges but carefully preserved. She placed it in my hands.
It was sealed.
My mother’s signature was scrawled across the flap a graceful, determined.
“My mother had one of the copies,” Lydia said softly. “Natasha gave it to her with clear instructions-if anything happens to me, take my son from Vander. Protect him. Help him manage what is his until he’s old enough to fight for it himself.”
My breath caught.
I looked up at her, my heart pounding in my ears.
“Why would she say that?” I asked. “Why plan for her own death like that… unless she suspected-?”
Lydia met my gaze and nodded gravely.
2/3
166 Legacy Of Ashes
+8 Points)
“She knew, Lucian. She didn’t just fear it. She anticipated it. Something in her… told her she wouldn’t survive what came
next.”
And just like that, the story of my mother’s life turned into something far darker.
Something far more sinister.
Something that demanded justice.
