Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 257: Do You Wish to Serve the Kingdom?

Chapter 257: Do You Wish to Serve the Kingdom?

In the kingdom, the date for the National Election was declared, and soon the entire nation was consumed by it. It was widely accepted among the public that, in the wake of the Stockport Scandal and its fallout, the opposition party was poised for victory. The only question now being debated was which supposedly "safe seats" of the ruling party would fall. The government found itself in a precarious position, with the constituencies of several former ministers and MPs... tainted by their connection to the scandal had already been marked as vulnerable.

By contrast, the opposition party moved in a markedly relaxed mood. Even in constituencies where their sitting MPs had been arrested, they showed little anxiety, confident that their perceived integrity during the Stockport affair would return those seats to them. Aspiring candidates had already submitted application forms, CVs, and personal statements; the vetting process was underway, and local party offices bustled with feverish activity.

At the centre of it all stood the opposition leader, Baron Anthony Hayward Chapman of Bethnal Green, who had become the emblem of the party’s election campaign. Leaders and supporters alike raised him to near-idol status, extolling both his personal integrity and his family’s long service to the kingdom. His repeated refusals of high office were now recounted as proof of selfless dedication. The narrative spreading across rallies and social media told of a man who had lived his entire life in service to the people and the party, and who, when the Stockport Scandal nearly brought the movement to collapse, had reluctantly taken up the mantle of leadership at the people’s request.

On social platforms and search engines, his name surged to the top of global trends, the story of Baron Chapman spread far beyond the borders of the kingdom.

***

In an old villa at the end of George Road, beside the Worcester and Birmingham Canal, John Smith returned home after another long day. The house had belonged to his family for generations. Now, only he and a handful of staff remained within its walls.

At sixty-five, John was still sharp, though solitude weighed on him. His wife had passed away two years earlier; his children lived in London, consumed by their careers. His only sister had settled in America decades ago. Apart from Christmas, no one returned to Birmingham. He alone kept the old villa alive.

Upon arriving, he went directly to the bath. This ritual never changed: half an hour immersed in warm water while the staff prepared dinner. It was the one true indulgence he allowed himself, despite being one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the region.

He closed his eyes, letting the heat seep into his bones, when a voice cut through the silence. "Oh! The Mayor of West Midlands does enjoy his bath."

John’s eyes flew open. He lurched upright in the tub, water sloshing over the rim. Decades of hard-nerved battles in politics and business steadied him, but still, the shock was immense. His villa was guarded by police and reinforced by his own private security. For someone to slip past them and into his bathroom... this was no ordinary trespass. Only an assassin of the highest calibre could achieve such a feat.

As a politician, he had long accepted the risk of assassination. Still, he had believed himself careful... never directly crossing any of the major powers. Even so, his mind sharpened instantly. There was a panic button installed near the tub, meant for emergencies. If he could create a diversion, perhaps he could reach it.

"Do not waste your time with the panic button. It has already been cut off. And spare me the sight of a naked old man. Stay where you are. I have

composure into his limbs. Slowly, he turned his head towards

man in black sat comfortably in a chair that had been taken from another room... there were no chairs in the bathroom to begin with. His clothing covered him completely, his face hidden beneath a dark mask. Not a trace of

are you?" John asked,

the man replied evenly. "The right

swallowed hard, adjusted, and said, "Very well... how can I help

The man’s voice was smooth, deliberate. "Don’t be alarmed. I’ve no intention of harming you. I came to deliver a proposal...

leader; he could have summoned him at any hour with a simple call. Why send an intruder to his bathroom, of

been Mayor here for nearly a decade. Your popularity is waning. Our projections suggest you won’t survive the next cycle. But the situation can change. Apply for this constituency. After the election, you’ll be Minister

years, and be quietly forgotten. The choice is yours. Think carefully tonight. The

what he was thinking, kept silent until the man had finished. Then he asked quietly, "And why

and unhurried. "Because we expect you would refuse the order outright. And we don’t force loyalty. The decision is yours. Think of this... as a

intruder produced a phone and placed it within reach. The screen was already

cold. Displayed on the screen was a detailed statement of his secret Swiss Bank transactions. Every figure, every transfer, every sum was exact. He knew them all. No forgery

deleted the file immediately. But the phone did

him... last week... in a Manchester hotel room with a young lady councillor. The

came. He lifted his eyes. The chair was

dripping, his mind racing. Dressing hastily, he stormed out into the hall. One of his private guards stood at attention outside his

enter my room?" John demanded, his voice sharp,

the sudden question, then shook his head. "No, sir.