My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 60: New member of the family ( Claus’s POV )

Chapter 60: New member of the family ( Claus’s POV )

I didn’t have where to go when Luther dumped me on the steps of Emiliano’s apartment.

I must have punched the door with my fists over and over again- nonstop until my bones crushed and after.

Nonetheless, it was for nothing. Luther didn’t open the door and I don’t blame him for it.

When Emiliano caught us, I did nothing but hide behind Luther from his wrath.

A coward. A wimp. A man who doesn’t deserve a second chance.

So I got myself up, no shoes on my feet, no dignity left and went to the only person I could- Luther’s father.

Well, not exactly.

I slept on it for a week, but couldn’t find a better solution.

I had no expectations from him, no hopes of getting help. Fair to say, I was expecting to be thrown out and left to die when I showed up in front of his mansion.

The same villa I used to visit every day when I was young and harmless to Luther was now standing cold and unwelcoming.

It might have always been like that and I just didn’t know, because Luther being inside it was changing the entire appearance.

Sure, it was beautiful. Marble floors since the entrance with flowers on each side of the path, dizzying the guests with their strong fragrance. Statues of whatever mythology you could Google search gazing at you from any corner.

Maybe since the building was a fortress built or nothing but generational sins and blasphemies they needed all the gods they could get to bless it.

My bleeding feet dragged themselves in front of the front door. My shaking hands pressed the buzz, praying, yearning for salvation. My mind has already accepted my fate.

"Mister Cassian, I’m Claus. Could you- could you perhaps help me?"

Nothing. A wave of silence covered the whole garden. Not even the bees were buzzing at this point. The wind didn’t dare to shush the leaves of the trees anymore, as if scared that the man inside would come out and confront him.

My legs gave up in the end. Kneeled before the massive door, I prayed to any of the garden of gods to let it open once more and let me in.

And it worked. The old maid opened it and showed me inside.

She didn’t tell me anything. She couldn’t even if she wanted to. I already knew what the requirement was to be hired in the Wilker’s mansion was- cut your own tongue.

Show loyalty, show dedication and you will be taken care of enough to support the next three generations of your family. A small sacrifice for the life of an upper-middle-class person. A fair trade.

She showed me inside the living room where Cassian was working through some paperwork and Madam Wilkeres was cleaning and massaging his feet. The scene, despite its symbolism of the savior and a forgiven wh-re, brought a heavy sense of dread upon me.

Like I was interrupting something far too intimate for an outsider to see and understand.

Why does Madam do that?

There are plenty of maids and butlers in the mansion for the lady of the house to be needed on such a lowly act.

Luther’s mother had her hair clipped back tightly and dark circles digging into her tired face.

She was beautiful, of course, but that tiredness and sadness cloud was hugging her so tightly that-

Despite being dressed in Dolce and Gabbana, she looked more pitiful than the servant of the maid.

"Claus Sant. What are you doing here?"

"Mister Wilkers. Madam. I-I just escaped Emiliano. He kept me in a medication-induced coma for a month. And now Luther-"

"I know. I know, son."

He thumped his foot on the ground, startling Madam. She quickly placed a towel and placed his feet on it before leaving the room quietly.

The Prime Minister scoffed disapprovingly.

"Emiliano humiliated me a few days ago. Because of him, my presidential poll took quite a dive. By next week he will be no more, don’t worry. Now, are you still an alpha, my son?"

"Yes, Mister Wilkers."

"Sit then."

He pointed to the leather couch next to him. The furniture was positioned in such a way, just like the statues outside-

You felt burned by the gaze of the art pieces.

Thousands of oil-painted masterpieces hang on the walls of that singularly vast room, all of them putting the Louver to shame with the abundance and intensity.

I drag myself to the couch, leaving an embarrassing trail of blood and dirt. Upon noticing, Mister Wilkers called Madam with one loud and cold word:

"Barbara!"

Madam walked back with her head down and her hands still wet. Cassian pointed at my feet, causing the poor woman to slightly nod while hurrying to fall to my knees.

My hands shivered in panic, trying to make her stand up, only to be stopped by a short and icy "Don’t" from her husband.

So I let it happened—

Luther’s mother wiped my feet with the same towel she used on his husband upon my entrance. Her touch was gentle and fearful.

As she wiped the dirt and old blood from my heels, tears poured down her face, causing irritation in Cassian.

"This-mister Wilkers."

"Claus, I’ll cut the chase. I’ll sell Luther off to whichever aristocratic class will pay the most. So I need another son. Sadly, my wife can’t offer me that anymore. Even if she could, another useless omega would have been born again."

Madam Wilkers squeezed the towel a bit too aggressively, trying her best to maintain her composure. Cassian ignored her silent protest and continued to humiliate her.

"Since you are an alpha and I raised you for a while under my wing, I want you to take Luther’s place."

"Me?"

"Son, I dislike repeating myself. You will, of course, suffer a bit of ruthless training, but you will get a spoiled life or wealth and power."

"Mister Wilkers."

He grabbed the little vase next to him and threw it inch away from my head, ending up breaking on the marble floor. A warning. For me to stop having opinions.

"Scrub harder."

Whether it was for me or his wife—who shivered, terrified—I couldn’t tell.

"As I was saying, I know you are not greedy, son, but I also know your weakness."

A mischievous smile took over his face in a twist of satisfaction.

I gulped. My hands were gripping the leather of the couch, I could feel it slowly tearing under my nails.

"You want Luther."

"I do."

It was reckless of me to approve it so openly, but the fact was so clear, Mister Wilkers knew it since we were kids. Lying was pointless.

"You can’t have it, Claus. The marriage will happen. You can’t offer me anything enough to even compete with the other offers."

He moved his hand gracefully, letting it rest on his wife’s shoulder. She got up and moved behind Cassian who grabbed her hands and dried them gently with his own handkerchief.

"But if you become part of the family, you will see Luther. You might even get to be alone with him. Who would suspect anything going on between you? These walls don’t talk. They don’t have tongues to do so."

"But we will be brothers..."

"In the eyes of the world, maybe. In my eyes? You are strangers who don’t share blood or a past, but are useful to me."

Madam’s sobs grew more and more audible as Cassian’s smug face became more and more prominent.

"What do I need to do?"

My voice was weak, defeated.

What other options do I have?

I have no family, I lived on Emiliano’s support.

Nowhere to live, nobody to turn to, no other chance to save Luther.

Cassian isn’t going to live forever. On the day of his death, I’ll just grab Luther and disappear. Get a house in Fiji and live happily ever after.

What’s ten- twenty years of suffering if the rest of our lives we will be happy and free?

The Prime Minister nodded in satisfaction and tapped his fingers two times on the side of his chair. No exact noise came out of it since it was cushioned with cotton and covered with leather and yet-

Not less than ten servants entered in a straight line with their gaze forward and their posture impeccable.

Madam’s voice echoed through the living room, taking everyone by surprise but the Prime Minister.

Even the faces in the paintings seem a bit startled by hearing an order from her, but that could be a projection of my own insecurity.

"Get him ready for next week’s auction. He will need to have flawless manners and mannerisms. Every mistake he makes will reflect on you and you will suffer the appropriate consequences for your lack of skill in teaching him."

Despite being terrified by her husband, her voice didn’t stutter. Not one wave of her tone could be sensed, all of the monologue being wrapped in a classy authoritative veil.

Cassian looked rather proud.

Not of his staff.

Not of his wife.

Clearly, not of me.

Of himself and how he conducts all of us like puppets in the show he is directing.

A sense of nausea twisted my stomach in a painful knot.

A week. In a week, Luther will become another man’s wife-

For however long the Prime Minister will be alive.

I had no idea I will find his lifeless body the very night of the auction, dead in the same way he lived—

Terrorizing.