My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 120: New Owner ( Claus’s POV )

Chapter 120: New Owner ( Claus’s POV )

My God, someone get this woman out of here!

"What kind of proper care is this? This is the son of the Prime Minister!"

"Madam Akna, please calm down!"

"I want him transferred to one of my private hospitals right at this moment!"

"He is unstable. He has unexpected crises with unknown triggers."

"Madam Akna, he has flatlined three times so far!"

"Don’t dare to raise your voice at me, brat. Security, get this disrespectful scum out of my eyes!"

She was in the middle of my room.

Lucrezia Akna.

Wearing that green Prada dress like it was a battlefield uniform. Black heels clicking on the floor every time she shifted. Her hair was pulled back tight in a bun. Pearls on her neck, pearls in her ears.

She looked rich, polished, furious.

But why?

Why would she be here?

She was yelling.

At the nurses.

At my doctor.

At the director of the hospital.

Everyone.

Her voice was sharp, loud, like she thought money gave her the right to scream. I couldn’t move.

I could barely keep my eyes open. But I saw her. I heard everything.

They had just brought me back.

I flatlined three times.

My chest still hurt from the compressions. I was weak. Everyone kept saying I was lucky to be alive. Maybe I was. But nothing about this felt lucky.

Lucrezia didn’t ask how I felt.

She didn’t look at me.

She wasn’t here for me.

She was here for herself. To perform an act. As if the hospital was a stage and I was the excuse for her big moment. And she dressed the part.

I didn’t appreciate it.

Not one bit.

I didn’t need her marching in like she owned the place. I didn’t need her yelling at people who had just saved my life. I didn’t need the drama, the scene, or the noise.

They had just pulled me from the edge.

Three times.

My brain felt slow. My mouth was dry. But I still felt enough to know this wasn’t about me. It never was. That was just how Lucrezia worked. She didn’t know how to be quiet. How to be kind. She just knew how to make an entrance.

"Madam Akna, it’s against law to move a patient in a critical state!"

"Want him to feel better? Very well. I might have the most beautiful legs, but I’ll play Doctor House for you."

Lucrezia didn’t say another word.

She just reached for the tubes. One by one, she started yanking them out.

The IV first, then the oxygen line.

The machines around me began to beep, faster and louder.

I felt the pressure shift in my chest. I wanted to stop her, but my body wouldn’t move. My arms were too heavy. My voice wouldn’t come out.

The life support disconnected.

My breathing got harder.

My vision blurred at the edges.

Still, she kept going.

Calm. Methodical. Like this was part of a routine.

Then she pulled out a piece of fabric from her bag.

It looked dirty. Wrinkled. Stained.

A torn strip of what might’ve been a hotel bedsheet.

She didn’t look at it for long. Just folded it neatly in her hands, then leaned down close to my face.

I tried to turn my head, but she was faster.

She shoved the cloth into my mouth.

Deep.

My lungs jerked. My throat closed.

I started convulsing. My legs kicked out. My body twisted against the bed. But I couldn’t get it out. I couldn’t scream.

Luther’s scent.

Faint pheromones.

My brain fired everything it had. Dopamine. Serotonin. Every drop, all at once. Like my mind was trying to fight back.

To flood me with joy. With peace. Anything to escape what was happening.

But it was too much.

My vision shattered into white. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. It wasn’t pain anymore. Just heat and speed and brightness. My chest arched off the bed. My fingers curled tight. My spine locked.

And she stood there, quiet, watching satisfied while the staff was left petrified.

She cleared her voice theatrically.

"Walk!"

As if my body could only function at her words, my spine straightened and I got off the bed.

Completely fine.

"How could that be possible?"

I was standing.

On my own legs.

No tubes, no machines, no gasping. Just breath—steady, deep.

My hospital gown hung loose, stained with sweat.

But I was upright.

The doctor didn’t speak at first.

Just stared like I was a ghost. His clipboard slipped from his hand, papers scattering across the floor.

Lucrezia stood next to me, calm, smug.

Her arms were crossed, lips curled in that familiar arrogant smile. The kind she wore when everything was going exactly how she wanted.

She raised one finger to her lips and gave a slow, deliberate "shhh."

Then she tilted her head toward the hallway.

Dismissive.

As if they were guests overstaying their welcome.

They didn’t move. Couldn’t. The doctor’s mouth opened, but no sound came. The nurse took a single step back.

Lucrezia didn’t repeat herself. She didn’t need to.

Finally, the doctor turned.

The nurse followed.

Hesitant steps.

No questions asked.

The door clicked shut.

"Now, Claus dear, should we discuss business?"

She sat down on the chair. Upright spine, ready to chew me out.

I sat down as well. Despite the pheromones stabilizing themselves, my body was still weak. The room was dizzy.

"Madam Akna."

"No need to be so formal, dear. You can just call me madam."

"Madam."

The word rolled down my tongue rigidly, yet she smiled satisfied with my effort.

"Good. Obedience is a great trait. So, dear, now that your dear father is deceased, we are lacking a proper Prime Minister."

"The elections will be soon."

"Yes, but I am sure they are rather a formality. We are the ones choosing the next representative. And so, I have been thinking you fit just fine."

"Me?"

Lucrezia’s pleasing smile dropped in a serious expression.

"Don’t make me repeat myself."

I gulped.

She is just as scary as Cassian was.

"Excuse me, madam. My brain is still foggy. What I meant was- why me?"

Lucrezia’s smile reappeared in all its fakery and concealed superiority.

"It’s simple, dear. People tend to trust generational inheritance. It’s only natural that the young, intelligent, alpha son of the ex-Prime Minister would replace him."

"But I was adopted."

"It’s not relevant, my dear. I can offer you meetings with the right people and help you grasp the opportunity."

"Why?"

"I see your brain isn’t foggy anymore."

Lucrezia shifted in her seat, slow and deliberate.

She crossed one leg over the other, back straight, shoulders sharp.

Her chin tilted slightly upward, like she was above everything in the room—including me.

The movement was subtle, but full of intent.

She wasn’t trying to be comfortable.

She was claiming the space.

Her green eyes locked on mine.

Cold. Bright. Gleaming with something cruel and amused.

She wasn’t hiding it. There was mischief there, too—a twisted delight in what she had just done, and what she might do next.

She looked like someone who had won before the game even started.

Like everything unfolding was part of a plan she had written alone. And now she was just watching it all happen.

Enjoying the aftermath.

"Good. It’s good to have a mind of your own. As long as you know your place. You see, my dear, I want more power in the law system we have now."

"And you intend to use me for that?"

"Yes."

"Why are you so straightforward about it?"

"Because you are not interested in that power."

"I’m not?"

Lucrezia shook her head, amused.

"No, you are interested in Luther."

Lucrezia smiled, satisfied.

Her lips curved just slightly, but it was enough to show she was pleased.

She didn’t look away.

I felt a tightness in my throat.

My mouth was dry. I swallowed hard.

The sound was loud in the quiet room.

She kept smiling.

She knew I was nervous.

She knew she got me figured out.

"And can you offer me Luther? To me? Not to your nephew?"

"My nephew left another omega pregnant. He will be married soon. Strings free from Luther."

Lucrezia picked up the remote and clicked it.

The screen lit up right away.

The timing was perfect.

Killian was wrapping his arm around Damian’s waist. They stood close together, almost touching.

Killian’s face was calm, eyes focused ahead. His dark blue Prada suit was sharp, clean, almost too formal. It looked more suited for a funeral than anything else. His black shoes matched, polished and stiff. His posture was straight.

Next to him, Damian looked like the opposite.

His floral pastel suit was bright and soft, covered in small patterns.

His smile was wide, eyes lit up with energy. His blonde hair was styled just right, every strand in place.

He reached up quickly to fix it again, even though it didn’t need fixing.

Then he patted his stomach carefully, like checking something only he knew about. His movements were light, fast, full of habit.

They both stood in front of a group of people. Flashing cameras, busy hands, microphones.

The screen cut to a closer shot.

Killian kept his arm around Damian, firm and steady. Damian leaned in a little, still smiling. The two of them looked like they had done this a hundred times.

Lucrezia didn’t look at the screen.

She already knew what was there. Her eyes were on me. The air in the room felt tighter.

My eyes stayed on the screen, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to see. Damian’s hand stayed over his stomach. Killian didn’t move. Damian smiled again, softer this time.

"It’s a big honor for me to carry the first heir of the CEO of Akna Pharmaceuticals!"

"Mister Akna, when will the wedding be?"

"After the birth. I don’t want to stress my love out with such details for the time being."

"Mister Akna, what about Luther Wilkers? You’ve been known for having a public pursuit of him. How come you are now expecting a child with another omega?"

"Is this a saving face after a one-night stand gone wrong?"

"Don’t be ridiculous. It is true that I tried to court Mister Wilkers, but his attitude and behavioral issues made me give up on him. I love Damian. Please refrain yourself from disturbing the father of my child in the future!"

The screen shut as Lucrezia pressed the remote button once again.

"Ready to negotiate now, dear Claus?"