The next morning, when I woke up, I was wrapped in a white sheet—alone.
I looked around, and even though the sun had risen, its light didn't seep through the windows. Everything remained dark.
My eyes shifted to the door, where I saw my suitcases. I quickly grabbed them, went into the shower, and got dressed to go to the office.
Half an hour later, as I went downstairs, a maid was waiting for me at the last step.
"Good morning, ma'am," she said kindly.
"Good morning," I replied in the same tone.
"Your breakfast is ready, please follow me."
I followed her to the dining area. Everything felt gray; every corner of that mansion was cloaked in a sad darkness.
"And my husband?" I asked as I took my seat.
The maid couldn't help but laugh. That unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
"What's wrong? Why are you laughing?" I asked.
"The master never lets anyone see him. You should know that. You'll never see him either. Lord Ragnar is a werewolf who lives in the shadows and adores the red moon."
I froze. That answer stunned me, though it was exactly what everyone used to say before.
I just drank some coffee and ate a few pieces of fruit with honey.
A moment later, I headed to the office—where I was supposed to behave like a simple mortal, even though deep down I felt like one of them, since I had never discovered my powers.
When I stepped out of the mansion, the driver was already waiting for me with the car door open.
"I'm ready to take you to work," he said politely.
"Thank you," I replied as I got in.
Half an hour later, I was walking into the tall building.
Everyone there was human—except for me, who had chosen to live as one of them, hidden inside a body I had never been able to change.
As soon as I arrived, I noticed everyone standing. I tried to slip in quietly, but I didn't go unnoticed.
"Miss Gutz, you're late," said the department head.
"I'm sorry, the traffic was terrible," I replied calmly.
The floor manager didn't like my answer. He came closer, his tone rising.
"Traffic? Everyone else got here on time, but not you. You're fired."
Everyone gasped at his words—after all, I was one of the company's best advertisers.
"You can't fire me," I said firmly.
"Of course I can. I'm the floor manager. You're just another employee."
Before I could respond, he grabbed my wrist roughly.
"You're leaving right now," he insisted.
But suddenly, a voice stopped him, filling the room with silence.
"Stop. You're not firing anyone today," said a strange man standing nearby.
The manager laughed and released my arm, which was now slightly bruised.
"And who are you supposed to be? I'm the one in charge here. If I say she's fired, she's fired."
The stranger kept his hands in his pockets, calm and composed, as if he controlled everything around him.
"I said no. And you'd better make sure you're not the one getting fired," the man warned.
The manager scoffed, threw a punch, but the stranger dodged it easily.
"You're fired—for trying to hit me. And from now on, Miss Gutz will take your place as head of the advertising department," the man declared firmly.
I didn't know what to say, but one thing was clear—I wasn't standing in front of an ordinary man.
"You don't have the authority to fire me!" shouted the manager in anger.
The stranger looked around, noticing how frightened everyone seemed.
"You really don't know who I am, do you?" he asked as he stepped closer.
"No, and I don't care. I just want you to leave now," the manager replied.
The stranger smiled. His calmness confused everyone.
"I'm Hakon Frost. The owner of this company—and the one responsible for the economic stability of many others," he revealed at last.
We were all stunned. None of us had expected that revelation.
"From today, Leticia is your new boss. And this man is officially dismissed," he said firmly.
The manager stood frozen, unable to believe that after abusing his power for so long, he was now nothing more than a fired man.
"Miss Gutz, come to my office, please. And everyone—back to work," Hakon ordered.
Without wasting time, I grabbed a notebook and hurried after him.
Seconds later, we entered his office. The door closed automatically behind us.
"How can I help you, sir?" I asked as he took a seat.
"From now on, I'll be working directly from this office. I want you to make sure everything runs smoothly," he said.
"It will," I replied.
He said nothing more, opened a small laptop, and began to type. When he realized I was still standing there, he looked up.
"What's wrong, Leticia?" he asked.
I hesitated, but curiosity overcame caution.
"Don't we know each other from somewhere?" I asked uncertainly.
He looked at me for a few seconds. "I don't think so. Why?"
"It's just… your voice sounds familiar. I feel like I've heard it before."
"They say everyone has a soulmate," he replied with a faint smile.
"Yes, perhaps it's just my imagination," I said softly.
Without waiting for a reply, I left the office. I went to the restroom, splashed water on my face, and for some strange reason, the memory of the previous night came rushing back.
"How could my husband's voice sound like his? That's absurd. My husband is an old werewolf—with a long beard."
I dried my face and walked out. I tried not to dwell on it, convincing myself it was just a ridiculous thought.
After a long day of work, it was finally time to go home. I was tired and stressed from my new position.
As I stepped outside, I expected to see Ragnar's driver waiting—but he wasn't there. The street was completely empty.