The double doors swung open with quiet elegance as a sharply dressed man in his late 30s entered the room, a sleek folder in hand. His presence was crisp and efficient—pure Landon protocol.
"Sean," Carl said without looking up, "are all the terms and conditions written exactly as I instructed?"
"Yes, my lord." Sean handed over the folder, his gaze briefly flicking to the young woman seated on the leather couch. "Every detail is included." He nodded politely at Aster—who sat frozen—and exited the room.
The air grew heavy as the doors clicked shut behind him.
Carl walked over and dropped the file onto the glass table with a thud. "Read. Understand. Then sign."
Aster picked it up with trembling hands. Her eyes darted from line to line, growing wider with every word.
"This… this is insane!" she burst out, clutching the papers like they might catch fire. "You're asking me to marry you? I already have a boyfriend—this is beyond crazy!"
Carl only chuckled, low and amused. "Drop the act, Aster. I've done my research. I know your past—every detail. Dane Bastre, Vanessa's brother, has been after you for months, and you've turned him down flat. You're not in love. You're… exactly what I need."
She gawked at him. "You think marriage is some kind of business contract?"
"It is, in this case. I'll promote you, give you everything you've been working for… but in return, we get married. Just for one year. Then we divorce. Clean and easy."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "So it's true. The rumors… the Landon heirs must be married before turning 29. Why?"
Carl's eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a reverent murmur. "It's our sacred tradition. At 29, the Moon Goddess grants our true strength—but only if we're bound in marriage. If we fail… we lose our right to the Alpha seat."
Aster's lips parted, but no sound came out.
After a long pause, she whispered, "Fine. But only one year. Then we're done."
"One year," Carl repeated, holding out a pen. "And no one must know what really happened between us. Understood?"
"Yes. No one," she agreed, her hand shaking as she signed her name.
Carl closed the folder with a satisfied snap. "Don't worry about the wedding prep. I'll handle everything. Just wait for my call."
---
The Flowers & The Firestorm
The next day, Aster returned to her office after rounds, exhaustion dragging at her limbs—until she noticed something out of place.
A bouquet of deep crimson roses sat elegantly on her desk.
"Where did this come from?" she asked, confused.
Her assistant, Jean, practically squealed. "Dra, it's from Sir Carl Landon! The Carl Landon!"
Aster groaned. Oh no. Not this kind of attention…
Her phone buzzed sharply.
Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"It's me." Carl's voice was smooth and unhurried. "Did you get the flowers?"
"Yes. Why would you send them?" she replied coldly.
"I need to make it look like I'm courting you. Otherwise, people will talk."
"They already are." Aster's tone was ice. "Do as you please. Goodbye."
Click.
Jean was buzzing like a live wire. "Ma'am! You didn't tell me Carl Landon is courting you! He's literally the most eligible bachelor in all of Santossa! The Alpha-to-be!"
"We met last week," Aster said, brushing her off.
"Oh. My. God. That's so romantic. Tell me everything! What does he smell like? What does he feel like?" Jean leaned in dramatically.
"Jean, if you finish these reports today, I'll introduce you. Happy now?"
"Promise?" Jean gasped, eyes wide.
"I promise," Aster said with a small smile, realizing how something so simple could bring someone so much joy.
But while Jean was daydreaming, the city was burning with gossip.
Online forums, news channels, social media—it was a frenzy.
"Who is Aster Carello?"
"Is Carl Landon finally settling down?"
"Landon heir to marry hospital beauty?"
Carl had anticipated the chaos. That same evening, he advised Aster to take an extended leave and sent two trained bodyguards to her apartment.
Then came the official Landon Company statement:
> "We are pleased to announce the upcoming wedding of Carl Landon and Dr. Aster Carello. Details to follow."
The internet exploded.
---
The Elders Stir
Halfway across the world, Nadia nearly dropped her wine glass when she saw the headlines.
"What is Carl thinking?!" she shrieked, calling his number for the fifth time. "A human? A human?! He knows they can't bear heirs! Our bloodline—!"
"Calm down, Nadia," Jacob said, speaking into his phone while scrolling through classified reports. "He's not a fool."
"He's under a spell. He has to be! What if she's a witch? Look at her last name—Carello! That's witch blood if I've ever heard it!"
"She's not enchanted. Sean confirmed it—no spells, no potions. She's 100% human. Adopted daughter of the late Vienna Carello."
Nadia went still. "Vienna Carello?"
"Yes," Jacob said, leaning forward with interest. "Cast out from the coven after Vienna's death. It's… intriguing."
"Vienna was powerful—dangerously powerful. She wouldn't just adopt anyone. What if she trained this girl in secret? What if she taught her—"
"Then we let Merca handle it," Jacob said firmly.
Nadia froze. "Why would Merca care?"
Jacob looked up, voice cool. "Because Merca and Vienna were inseparable. Best friends since childhood. That makes Aster her goddaughter."
The room turned to ice.
Merca Landon—the untouchable matriarch. The retired president. The woman who trained Carl herself. She lived peacefully in S Country now, teaching kindergarten to human children—but no one in the family dared cross her.
Nadia's lips trembled. "So… we can't stop this marriage?"
Jacob raised a brow. "Unless you want to challenge Merca's will—be my guest."
Nadia sat down hard, eyes wide.
This wasn't just a marriage. This was a power shift.
And Aster Carello?
She was no ordinary human.
She was a name the supernatural world had forgotten—
But not for long.