Page 40 of Reclaiming His Lost Mate (Secret Legacy #3)

C aroline

The afternoon sun arched gracefully into my office, casting golden streaks across the walls as it climbed higher in the sky.

From my hundredth floor office, the world below seemed distant, almost surreal—tiny cars inching forward in traffic, people moving like scattered dots in an entirely separate reality.

For a moment, I felt detached, like an observer rather than a participant in that world.

A knock at the door broke my reverie, followed by the smooth push of it opening.

Andrew stepped in, his presence familiar and grounding.

He wasn’t just my assistant—he had been my friend for over two years, standing beside me since Roog Tech was nothing more than a fledgling idea.

Together, we built it into the empire it was today.

It helped that he was a werewolf, like me.

It meant we understood each other’s peculiarities, like how I could clearly see the license plates on the cars far below, while humans would see nothing but an indistinct blur of motion.

“It’s a busy afternoon down there,” Andrew observed, coming to stand beside me. His gaze lingered on the bustling city below.

“They’re here?” I asked.

“Yes. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“All right, let’s get this over with. I want to get home to Eric—I didn’t even get to say goodbye this morning. He was still fast asleep.”

“Before we do that, there’s something I need you to look at.” Andrew handed me the iPad he had been holding, the screen displaying a chart I didn’t bother to study.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“You didn’t even look at it,” he noted with mild exasperation.

“I don’t need to. Just tell me what it is.”

“You remember what I said about diversifying your investments? Yours and the company’s?”

I gave a small shrug. “Vaguely. You suggest a lot of things when it comes to investments, Andrew. You want me to jump on every new opportunity.”

“I know,” he admitted, unfazed. “But this one is different. It’s a family-owned company looking to sell.”

I arched a brow. “Why?”

“They’ve fallen on hard times and want to secure their remaining wealth before they end up bankrupt. I managed to negotiate a deal that’s practically a steal. It’s not something you’ll come across again.”

“What industry?”

“That’s the beauty of it—it’s a conglomerate.”

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “Andrew…you know how I feel about conglomerates.”

“This one’s different. It doesn’t require your active involvement. They have a competent management team already in place. You’d just be investing, not running the day-to-day operations. You could buy in, step back, and let the money work for you.”

“If that’s the case, how did they get into this mess in the first place? Why do they need rescuing?”

Andrew sighed, shifting his weight. “The family fell apart. It’s just one guy in charge now, and he has no sense for money.

He doesn’t understand the difference between revenue and profit.

He spends recklessly, thinking all the income is his to use.

He made a mess, and now the shareholders are scrambling to clean it up. ”

I crossed my arms. “And what do you think our shareholders will say when they find out I’m buying out other companies with their money?”

“They won’t care. You’ve made them rich.”

I let out another sigh and turned toward the door. “You know what my answer is, Andrew.”

“The company is werewolf-owned, Caroline.”

“I don’t care,” I said firmly, stepping out with him following close behind. “Now, enough about that. What should I expect from this meeting? Is anyone upset about anything?”

“I don’t see why they would be. We surpassed last quarter’s projections, and with the Coza system ready to launch, our customer base is set to grow by twenty percent.”

“Good. Stick to that. Those are the things I want you talking about—not buying some goddamn company.” I shot him a playful wink before pushing open the conference room doors.

The shareholders were already waiting, their faces split into wide smiles—the unmistakable expressions of people who had made a great deal of money.

Two hours later, they left the room looking even more pleased. Promises of higher returns had that effect on them.

On the drive home, all I could think about was Eric. By now, it was well past two in the afternoon—his usual lunchtime. If I was fast enough, I’d make it just in time to join him. He’d be thrilled by the surprise.

Anticipation made my fingers tighten around the wheel, and I gently accelerated. When I arrived at the mansion, I stepped out of the car quickly, eager to see his face light up when he spotted me.

But when I pushed open the doors to the dining hall, it was empty. The long table sat untouched. Even the maids were missing.

A strange unease coiled in my chest.

What was going on?

I turned and started toward the servants’ quarters. Sometimes, Eric preferred to eat with them, enjoying the chatter and their company. The maids adored him just as much as he enjoyed them, happy to indulge his whims.

But the moment I stepped into the station and saw the look on their faces, I knew—something was very, very wrong.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded the moment I stepped inside.

Rachel, the deputy head maid, stepped forward, her expression a careful mask of concern. “We were just about to call you. Eric didn’t come down for lunch, so Miss June went upstairs to check on him.”

“And?” My voice was sharp, edged with impatience.

Rachel hesitated before speaking. “It seems he’s caught the flu,” she said. “He looks very sick.”

I exhaled, some of my tension melting away. Just the flu. Nothing serious. “All right,” I said, already turning on my heel toward Eric’s room.

Still, a sliver of unease lingered at the back of my mind. Eric wasn’t the type to get sick easily. In fact, the only time he’d ever been unwell was when he was a baby—and even then, it had been mild, gone overnight.

Pushing the thought aside, I reached his door and opened it.

Inside, Eric was lying in bed, propped up by pillows, while June fussed over him. The moment he saw me, his face lit up with a smile.

“Did they call you?” June asked, looking annoyed. “I told them not to. It’s just the flu. He’ll be fine.”

“No, they didn’t call me. I came home early so we could have lunch together.” I moved to the bed, sitting beside my son. “How’s he doing? How are you, my love?”

“He has a slight fever and says he’s tired. But it’s just the flu,” June repeated as she stood. “I’ll make him some soup. Which do you want, Eric? Chicken noodle?”

Eric’s face brightened slightly. “Yes. I like chicken noodle.”

“Great.” June gave me a small nod before heading for the door.

“Thank you, June,” I called after her, then turned back to Eric. “Flu, huh?” I pressed my hand to his forehead, and a jolt of worry ran through me. “Wow. That’s a high fever.”

Eric shivered slightly. “I feel shaky.”

“That’s just the fever, love. Hold on.”

I stood and walked to his closet, reaching up to the uppermost compartment where I kept a thermometer. Returning to his bedside, I placed it under his tongue and waited. When I pulled it out and read the temperature, my concern deepened.

Far too high.

“When did this start?”

Eric thought for a moment, then counted on his fingers before holding up two.

“Two hours ago?”

He nodded.

I forced a reassuring smile and pulled Eric in for a hug. “All right. Don’t worry. June will bring your soup soon, and you’ll feel better in no time.”

But deep down, unease curled in my stomach. Eric had never been prone to illness. Could this really just be the flu?

“Mommy?” Eric murmured, drawing my attention back to him.

“Yes, love?” I smiled at him.

He hesitated, then spoke in a small voice. “Don’t get mad at me.”

I frowned. “Why would I be mad at you? You haven’t done anything wrong. People get the flu all the time—it’s perfectly normal.”

His fingers twisted in the blanket. “It happened because I dreamed about him again.”

Something inside me stilled. “What?”

“My dad. I dreamed about him again.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I saw him. He was very sad…and crying.”

A strange sensation rippled through me. “The same dream?”

Eric shook his head. “No. It was different. But he was still sad. And…he said he needs help.”

A chill skated down my spine. “He did?”

Eric nodded solemnly. “Yes. He wanted to touch me,” he looked rather uncertain but I could tell there was more he wanted to say so, I squeezed his hands to urge him own.

“It’s fine. You can tell me.”

“He stretched his hand to me,” Eric added, stretching his own arm demonstration. “But someone called him away and he disappeared. They called him James.”

The room tilted slightly.

I stared at him. “What did you say?”

“They called him James. Is his name James, Mommy?”

I felt the blood drain from my face. How did he know that? Eric’s father. James. A name I never spoke. A name no one in this house knew.

There was no way he could have guessed it. No way this was just a dream.

Something was happening. I forced a smile for Eric’s sake, smoothing his hair back. “You rest here, all right? I’ll be back soon.”

His small hand reached for mine. “Are you mad at me, Mom?”

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I could never be mad at you, my love.”

Then I turned and left the room, my pulse thudding in my ears.

I made my way to the kitchen, finding June in the middle of chopping carrots. She glanced up as I entered, immediately sensing something was wrong. Her hands stilled, and she set the knife down.

“Caroline? What’s the matter?”

I swallowed hard, steadying myself. “Did Eric see anyone today? Anyone besides you and the other maids?”

June frowned. “No. Why?”

My heart pounded. I ignored her question.

“One more thing…” I hesitated, the words thick in my throat. “Eric’s father. Do you know who he is?”

June blinked at me in surprise before chuckling. “How would I know that? You never talk about him.”

Exactly. I never talked about him. No one who worked for me knew his name. Which meant no one could have told Eric.

That left only two possibilities.

Either he had somehow guessed the name by pure chance.

Or…his dreams were real.