The Interview
Coletta’s POV
"$250,000 upon signing, with the remainder paid after contract completion."
I stared at the words on the advert I’d picked up from the hospital notice board yesterday.
I wasn’t very excited or proud about what I was about to do. But what choice did I have? Life had stripped me of options. My mother, my only remaining family, was lying in a hospital bed, her life hanging by a thread after a car swerved off the highway and hit her while she was selling snacks by the roadside.
She’d refused to stay home while I worked at a local restaurant. Stubborn as ever, she’d insisted she wouldn’t sit idle while I broke my back trying to support us. The old couple who owned the building we first stumbled into had taken us in, total strangers. They gave us food and shelter until we could afford rent.
I realized then that indeed strangers can be more of a family than your real family, or should I say better of a kindred than your own kindred?
I had promised myself I would never let this couple down. I wished for the goddess to bless me so I could bless them back.
But after the accident, everything changed. Now here I was, queuing for a surrogate interview with strangers—for a total payment of two million dollars.
All I could think was: If only I could get the initial $250,000. That would be enough to get her into surgery. That was all I cared about.
I glanced at the four women ahead of me—confident, polished, and graceful. All humans. I didn’t belong among them, but I remained seated. Where else would I find that kind of money?
Even if the contract only offered that initial $250,000, I’d take it in a heartbeat. The rest can come later. Or not at all, it will still be fine as long as my mom was fine.
“Coletta Davids!”
The call snapped me from my thoughts. I hadn’t realized the other women were gone—I was the last one left.
“Yes?” I croaked, rising quickly.
A petite brunette stood at the door labeled Assistant.
“Follow me, please.”
She walked briskly down the hallway. Her pace was unnaturally fast—had she had the scent, I would’ve assumed she was one of us. But she didn’t smell like one—unless she masked it.
We stopped at a door with a signage CEO. She knocked and then turned to me with a tight smile, gesturing for me to enter.
“Mr. McKnight, the last candidate is here. Her file is on the table.”
'McKnight?' Could it be?
A hand waved dismissively from a large chair turned toward the window. She stepped out, shutting the door behind her.
I froze. The air shifted.
He wasn’t human. That much I could tell.
A strange, powerful energy clung to the room like fog. His scent—delicious, overwhelming—was masked, but unmistakable to anyone with a nose like mine.
He’s Lycan.
My blood ran cold.
Is this... “the” McKnight?
I nearly turned and bolted. I didn’t want anything to do with werewolves—especially not powerful ones. Not after what I’d been through.
But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t risk losing this chance.
"Take a seat and calm that heart of yours, little wolf."
His voice was deep and smooth, yet authoritative. It cut through the silence, and I flinched.
I had just been exposed. I'm in deep trouble!
Goddess help me... is it him? The one who can read people’s thoughts. I’m done for! ‘Did he read my thoughts already?’
My heart pounded in my ears.
“Sit down first. Then you'll find out if I’ve been reading your thoughts or not.”
He swiveled his chair slowly to face me.
My breath caught in my throat.
This man was no monster.
Contrary to every terrifying tale whispered about him—the disfigured, ruthless Lycan monster king with a scarred face and a cold heart—he was breathtaking. Smooth skin. Chiseled jaw. Eyes like icy oceans.
I stood frozen, caught between awe and fear.
“When you’re done admiring me, let me know.”
His voice went again—low, teasing.
Heat rushed to my face. I was mortified.
Why wasn’t he angry? His reputation warned of women being torn to shreds for lesser offenses such as staring at him. Yet... there was a smirk playing on his lips.
I didn’t understand it.
I didn’t understand him.