Billionaire Alpha's 99 Deadly Games

Chapter 14

Chapter 13

Recalling the disastrous fate of that previous business partner, Michael silently calculated how many hours he'd need to be prepared to be expelled from the pack.

He inhaled deeply, steeling himself for the tempest of Lucas's rage.

To his absolute shock, Lucas not only picked up the tickets but examined them with unexpected interest, his fingers tracing the embossed lettering with something approaching tenderness.

The tickets were elegantly minimal-clean black typography on heavy cream cardstock, containing only essential information without a single decorative flourish.

The stark simplicity transported Lucas to a moment he'd spent years trying to forget.

Aria, curled up on their bed three years ago, sketching ticket designs on her tablet, her hair piled messily atop her head. She'd been so alive then-passionate, determined, completely herself.

"Look at this," she'd said, holding up a clean, minimalist design. "Don't you think this actually communicates more than all that cluttered nonsense they keep asking for?"

He remembered how she would return from her internship at Silver Crescent Ballet, dramatically flopping onto their couch with entertaining impressions of the marketing director.

"It needs more pizzazz," she'd mimic in an exaggerated voice, gesturing wildly. "Make the font bigger! Add sparkles! People won't know it's art unless we hit them over the head with it!"

Lucas had laughed then-casually, carelessly, not appreciating how perfect those ordinary moments were. How perfect she had been.

If he hadn't destroyed everything with his revenge plot, would they be sharing those moments still? Would she be designing minimalist tickets for performances he attended proudly as her mate?

The thought sliced through him with surgical precision.

Something about these tickets felt like a sign-an impossible, irrational signal that he should attend. A whisper in his mind suggested that perhaps, somehow, he might find a trace of Aria there, some

of what

his own impulse, he carefully slid the tickets into his

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Billionaire AI

his beta:

The Southern Territory's elite buzzed with pre-performance excitement. Various alphas and society figures made obligatory pilgrimages to Lucas's front-row seat, attempting to

slight nod, a disinterested "sure"- until

the lights dimmed, Lucas tensed reflexively. Dance performances had become emotional landmines since

blush-pink costume, frozen in elegant repose. When the music began, she unfurled like a flower opening to moonlight, her movements transcending mere

pearl-white half-mask concealing her features, her artistic expression radiated through every gesture. Lucas, who had been enduring rather than watching, found

years of silence, Lucas's wolf suddenly showed signs

during an arabesque, the characteristic tilt of

den, barefoot on hardwood floors, demonstrating a phrase she'd been working on. "Watch this transition," she'd said, executing the exact

throat as

with such similar qualities that he could almost believe the impossible-that somehow, through some miracle, he was watching

his seat, Lucas found himself leaning forward involuntarily,

was a bit restless.

16:39

Billionair

Chapter 13

the name escaping before he could stop

to anyone else, the dancer's rhythm faltered slightly-a millisecond hesitation before she recovered

continued her variation without acknowledging

electricity through Lucas's veins. It

coincidence. It couldn't.

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