The challenge was not Kian Verran; the challenge was Cassian Vestra.
My father's office in the main Vestra tower was a monument to wealth and paranoia. It was not a place of comfort, but a fortified command center. The walls were soundproofed, shielded against every known magical and digital intrusion, and every surface was cold, polished metal or glass. Every seat felt like an interrogation chair, by design.
Damian Thorne, the Supreme Vampire King, stood perfectly at ease in the center of the room. He faced the man who, in the human world, held almost equal financial power. This was the true, final vetting. Daddy's Vetting. It was a test of worth, not just love.
"King Thorne," Father began, his voice flat, professional, and entirely devoid of human warmth. He was seated at his minimalist desk, flanked by holographic projections of global market data that shimmered in the sterile air.
"You are entering a contract with my daughter. Legally, the terms are sound. Psychically, the Mate-Bond Scar requires your proximity. Financially, however, your worth is my primary, unrelenting concern."
Damian inclined his head with the grace of a predator who respects a rival. "I understand, Mr. Vestra. You are vetting my capacity to protect her resources and her person."
"No," Father corrected instantly, his eyes—as sharp and cold as mine—boring into Damian. "I am vetting your dedication. Dedication is not measured in sentiment; it is measured in irreversible financial commitment and operational sacrifice. Show me the metrics. Show me the sacrifice that cannot be undone."
The projections on the wall shifted immediately, displaying classified Thorne Dynasty financials. Father didn't care about the Thorne Conglomerate's public assets. He cared about the liquid, callable assets.
"Your stated net worth is significant," Father continued, picking up a platinum-tipped pen and examining it under the harsh lighting, as if it held the secrets of the universe.
"But the Verran pack, though incompetent, has political roots and supernatural connections. Their destruction will be expensive and protracted. My daughter needs total assurance of resources that cannot be challenged by old blood, old money, or old magic."
Damian didn't wait for the explicit question. He tapped a console hidden on his side of the desk. New figures, dizzying in their scope, instantly flooded the display, dwarfing Father's initial projections. They were numbers that redefined global currency.
"I have already transferred fifty billion dollars in unrestricted liquid capital into an offshore trust in Anya's name," Damian stated concisely, his tone a reflection of the numbers—cold and absolute. "This is her emergency fund, usable immediately, for any contingency, no questions asked. It requires only her signature."
Father didn't react visibly. He merely waited, the silence pressing down on the room, demanding more.
Damian understood the silent command. "I have also taken three critical, permanent actions in preparation for our public union and the subsequent financial war on Kian. These are the measures of my commitment, Mr. Vestra. These are irrevocable."
"Detail them," Father commanded.
First: The Blood Trade Covenant. Damian's voice dropped, carrying the cold weight of supernatural authority that even Father could not ignore.
"The Thorne Dynasty's core trading sector is high-yield, classified supernatural commodities—a source of absolute, generational wealth that makes up the true backbone of my power. I have formally and legally signed over 25% of all future profits from this trade, in perpetuity, into the Vestra Twins' educational and future-proofing trust. This is irrevocable. This is for Lia and Leo. It is secured against my clan's highest, oldest covenant and cannot be rescinded by war or death."
Father finally paused his examination of the pen. 25% of the Vampire King's core business, signed over to my Hybrid children, was an unimaginable commitment. It meant he was willing to bleed for them.
Second: The Real Estate Lockup. Damian continued, pressing the advantage of his calculated actions.
"Anya commanded the absolute destruction of Kian's environment. I have already secured the vast majority of the forested acreage surrounding the entire Verran pack land, as she requested. I used three layers of sophisticated offshore shell companies to hide the purchase, making the property untraceable by their weak scouts. I have filed immediate paperwork to have it perpetually rezoned as the Thorne Family Nature Preserve—legally locking Kian and his pack into an obsolete, shrinking perimeter."
Elara (my architect sister), who was listening to the feed, sent a quick text to my secure watch: Brilliant. Absolutely genius move. They are boxed in. Their land value is now worthless.
Damian glanced at the watch on his wrist, knowing the Vestra communication was happening. "This move," he added, looking at Father, "not only makes any future Verran expansion impossible but renders their current land useless as bank collateral. It chokes them economically and physically."
Third: The Human World Defense. Damian looked directly at Father, his eyes now conveying a clear, mutual respect.
"I understand your dedication to keeping Anya and the twins out of the direct, messy supernatural conflict. Therefore, I have dedicated $100 billion of my most liquid public holdings to establish the Anya Vestra Global Security Fund. This fund is solely dedicated to funding Zara Quinn's aggressive legal defenses and Veridia's necessary cybersecurity needs for the next century. It's a permanent human-world buffer, Mr. Vestra. It ensures no human government, no court, and no digital threat can touch her or the children's assets."
Father lowered his pen, placing it precisely parallel to the edge of his desk. The total, irreversible commitment Damian had just detailed—the future profits, the real estate encirclement, and the $100 billion defense fund—easily quantified his loyalty far beyond the price of a single trillion. It was a structural, permanent devotion.
"One last test, King Thorne," Father said, his voice softening only slightly. The tension in the room eased, but the pressure remained. "My daughter has the Mate-Bond Scar. It causes her physical agony. It is a constant, psychic reminder of Kian's treason. Your presence soothes it. If she were to give you a command right now that put your entire operation at a mild but permanent risk, but guaranteed her a single hour of total, peaceful, pain-free sleep, would you execute it?"
Damian didn't hesitate. He didn't even breathe. His reply was instant and definitive. "A single hour of peaceful sleep for my Queen is worth the permanent dissolution of my entire financial empire. I would execute the command without question, Mr. Vestra. The survival of my entire clan is secondary to the security and comfort of Anya. I have no other purpose now."
Father finally smiled—a tight, professional, completely authentic expression of approval that was rare to witness. "Then you have my permission, King Thorne. You may be an ancient Vampire, but your metrics are excellent. You are worthy of my daughter's command and the protection of my grandchildren."
I had listened to the entire vetting process via a secure audio feed from my mother's study. The profound sense of validation was overwhelming. Kian had offered me a title he planned to control. Damian had offered me his life's work, his blood, and his absolute, financial submission.
As Damian walked into the study, the shift in atmosphere was instant. My mother rushed to him with an air of absolute familiarity, accepting him fully into the chaos of Vestra devotion.
"Darling, you were spectacular! You passed Cassian's test with astonishing results," Seraphina chirped, handing him a perfectly chilled glass of water. "Now, we have a scheduling crisis. The public announcement of your move to the Vestra property must be perfectly synchronized with the filing of the Verran injunction. Calla is demanding a full press blitz."
Damian took a deep, steady breath, settling his energy to match the Vestra family's demanding domestic chaos. He walked directly to me and gently touched the back of my neck, immediately silencing the residual anxiety the meeting with Father had caused. The scar went silent.
"The injunction will be filed in exactly twenty minutes, per Anya's command," Damian confirmed to the room.
"My private jet is currently ferrying the initial staff to the New England estate. We require a secure, large space for the twins to continue their critical research. Lia requires a space that 'feels' moral and safe. Leo requires a space that is shielded against all electromagnetic interference."
"The west wing library, shielded in lead and silver, is perfect for Leo," Veridia offered immediately, already sending the floor plans to Damian's tablet. "Lia can have the renovated solarium—it's bathed in natural light and has the purest energy flow in the entire estate."
"Excellent," I said, rising to my feet, the plan now moving into the execution phase. "Calla, confirm the media angle and execution time."
"Confirmed. We are releasing photos of your sapphire ring next to Serena Lyte's desperate, teary attempt to organize a small, counter-party cocktail hour," Calla said excitedly. "The headline will be devastating: 'Vampire King's Queen Plans Revenge While Ex-Alpha Feeds on Scraps.' It runs in ten minutes."
I smiled. The humiliation was total and public.
As we all filed out to begin the next stage of the attack, I noticed Damian pause by the twins' chessboard.
"Young Masters," Damian addressed Lia and Leo. "Your mother has approved the drone delivery of your final statement to the Verran Pack."
Lia, the Empath, looked up, her expression grave. "It is important, new Father. Kian Verran has a dark, weak scent. He needs to know he lost her and his future."
Leo, the Precognizant, pointed a small finger at the chessboard, predicting Kian's reaction.
"We have calculated the probability of Kian Verran attempting to send a physical, sentimental message back to Mommy is 87% within the next 48 hours. He will try to appeal to her misplaced sentimentality before his empire fully collapses."
"And your counter-defense?" Damian asked, genuinely curious and respectful of their genius.
"We have prepared the contents of the final rejection letter," Lia said. "It will be delivered by Zara Quinn's legal team, ensuring it is a formal, humiliating rejection of his paternity claim, notarized and sealed by a Thorne Family notary."
Leo handed Damian a perfectly typed, small note. "The contents are simple, Father. It reads: 'You rejected a Queen. You cannot claim a Prince and a Princess. Their only father is the one who valued their mother at over $1 trillion. Do not approach us.'"
Damian Thorne, the most powerful man in the supernatural world, read the note and looked at his future children with profound, possessive pride. He had been vetted, tested, and accepted by the Vestra Clan, and his new family had just given the final, ruthless command.
"Perfect," Damian murmured. He pressed a button on his private watch. "The letter is sealed with the Thorne Royal Crest and will be delivered concurrently with the injunction filing. The war is won. Now, we secure the victory."