My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 76: The future of the pharmaceutical industry ( Killian’s POV )

Chapter 76: The future of the pharmaceutical industry ( Killian’s POV )

"Did you do it?"

"I am a beautiful woman in the bloom of her life, I do it once in a while. It’s great cardio and a good entrée for negotiation."

I flare my nostrils in disgust. Nobody wants to know things about his aunt’s 3 am calls.

"Not that. Did you kill the Prime Minister?"

"Who’s to say? Doesn’t the police think your little twink did it?"

"I am asking you."

"Why? So you can turn in your poor dear aunt who raised you since you were the size of a snote for a guy who didn’t even call you back after your first date?"

"I am asking so I can do damage control."

Lucrezia clicked her tongue dismissively.

"Don’t think, Killian dear. God forbid you get wrinkles on your brain! How will you live after gaining enough intelligence to realize how life works?"

I bit my lips. I can’t talk back. Our relationship is strained as it is and every crack will surely be used by that evil gnome to destroy us completely.

So I need to know what she knows and what she did for both our sakes.

"I know you did something, Lucrezia."

"Auntie."

"Auntie. I know you wanna use Cassian’s death to gain his wealth and to get revenge on Emiliano. I don’t know how you’ll do that. Tell me."

"But I’m such a forgiving person, Killian dear. How can you accuse me of that?"

"Drop the PR training, auntie. I know you have a history with Cassian. I didn’t forget how Emiliano made you crawl in that abandoned warehouse until your Valentino dress ripped."

Her expression soured.

Her forehead didn’t crease when she tried to frown; it just sat there, smooth and motionless, like porcelain stretched too tight. Her brows twitched downward slightly, struggling to express the displeasure written everywhere else—her narrowed eyes, her overly plump lips pressing into a faint, glossy pout. The emotion was there, just trapped behind layers of filler and effort, like her face was trying to remember how it used to move.

"Just let me see if you missed any print left behind, Auntie. I am trying to help."

"Like I’d believe that."

"Why wouldn’t you?"

"Because you suspect me of your mother’s death, but you are too scared to lose the privileged life that comes with the status of my nephew to actually do something."

She didn’t look at me. She was too busy inhaling from a cigar while the maid was braiding her hair into a fancy hairstyle.

The maid moved quickly, fingers weaving through Lucrezia’s hair with the kind of rhythm that came from doing it a hundred times before. She was braiding it into something elaborate—tight, polished, and fancy enough to turn heads—but the woman barely noticed. She just sat there, motionless, letting it happen.

A cigar rested between her fingers, smoke curling lazily up toward the ceiling. She took a slow drag, then exhaled through her nose, not really thinking about it. Her lips—overfilled and glossy—wrapped around the cigar like she’d practiced it in front of a mirror. Probably had.

She was talking about my mother—

Her dead sister and yet she couldn’t look more bored.

I gulped my feelings and continued.

We had time to unleash all this drama at a shrink when the water would settle, but we didn’t have time to cover our tracks with the police searching so desperately for a suspect they could pin this all on.

"Sure. I like money, but if you get arrested, who will continue to buy from our pharmaceutical company?"

"I think I would make a great dealer in prison."

"No make-up. No maids. No botox or fillers and, most importantly, orange suits."

Lucrezia smiled.

"Got your point, little brat, but I have nothing to confess. I didn’t do it!"

"Don’t lie! You told me to take your car to the after-party on the night of the auction."

"God forbid I care about my own nephew and let them drive my Bugatti to a party!"

"Except the car broke before I reached the apartment where the private party was."

"Did you Uber it?"

"Yes."

"Idiot! Did you enter the apartment?"

"No. I got a phone call and had to go. I got out of the Uber just to get in again."

"Lucky brat. Good. You have an alibi."

"So you did kill him. That’s why you didn’t want me there."

"No. I didn’t dirty my hands with the muddy blood of a mutt wearing Armani!"

"But you know something will go down. You might not have done it, but you know who did."

"I just had a feeling. I was just cautious."

I rubbed my temples as she continued to inhale from the expensive cigar.

The air became dense, barely breathable, yet the smoke she blew into the air was not the reason at all.

"You’re not an emotional woman, Auntie. You act on facts. So it was not just a feeling."

"Killian, you have an alibi. The brat has an alibi. I surely did find myself an oily alibi that night. Calm yourself down. Your stress is getting all over me!"

"Oily alibi?"

"Care to guess what I did? Who I did?"

"You slept with someone the night your first love got killed?"

"Was I supposed to grieve? Cuz I cried that night, but not for Cassian."

"Mark Begniffelo."

"Great, we can skip the family dinner introductions !"

"So because you slept with the oil tycoon, I got an Uber and Luther is on the home security footage of Emiliano’s hope, we’re protected."

"A wrinkle!", Lucrezia screamed theatrically. "A wrinkle on my dear nephew’s brain!"

A faint smile appeared on her face. I imagine that if she didn’t have that much surgery and filler, it would have been an ear-to-ear grin.

"But you still know who did it, Auntie. Tell me."

"I know nothing."

"You expect me to believe that? You wanted that man dead the moment he broke up with you!"

She didn’t raise her voice. Didn’t warn me.

One second, the cigar was resting between her fingers, its ash barely holding on. The next, it was flying through the air. A sharp flick of her wrist—casual, practiced—and the glowing end hit my cheek with a soft hiss.

The pain was instant. A flash of heat, quick and mean, like being kissed by something spiteful. I flinched, not enough to give her satisfaction, but enough that she saw it. The cigar bounced off and fell to the floor, still smoldering, leaving behind a faint, angry mark that would bloom into something red and raw by morning.

She just stared at me, lips slightly parted, not from shock—but amusement. Like she’d been waiting for an excuse all day.

"You run your mouth an awful lot today, my dear nephew. You!"

Lucrezia yelled at the maid who flinched in fear as her eyes instinctively filled with tears.

"Treat his wound. We can’t have the face of Akna Pharmaceuticals damaged now, can’t we?"

I raised my hand slightly to stop the frantic maid from giving me any form of treatment.

"Claus is hospitalized."

"Claus? The blonde boy that Cassian adopted out of nowhere?"

"Yes."

Lucrezia ever so slightly crumpled her nose.

"Why?", she asked.

Her tone was smooth, almost playful—like she was brushing everything off with a flick of her voice. But there was something tight beneath it, just a little too controlled. The kind of calm that felt practiced. Every word was light on the surface, but carried a weight underneath, like she was trying to hide the crack before anyone noticed it was there.

"His brain almost shut down. Same thing as Cassian- pheromone overdose."

"Then how is he not dead?"

"He was a beta initially. Seems like Luther triggered his transformation into an alpha."

"But that’s impossible."

She placed her cigar down and for the first time since starting this conversation, she looked at me.

"It seems like Luther’s pheromones are so toxic, it triggered a flight-or-fight chemical reaction, forcing Claus to change his secondary gender."

"How fun.", Lucrezia’s eyes sparkled.

She bit her lips in silence for a few moments until talking again

"Do you think it would be possible to extract the toxin from his blood that could change secondary gender and make a drug with the same effect, but only if taken for the rest of the user’s lifetime?"

"You want to commercialize secondary-gender-switching pills?"

"It’s a gold mine!"

"It’s immoral!"

"It’s good business!"

"Even if that’s true, it will take years of research and gallons of blood. And Luther’s consent."

"A coma patient can give as much blood as a healthy one."

"I am not putting Luther in a coma!"

"Then make him fall in love!"

"I am trying!"

Lucrezia shook her head disapprovingly at my response. She sighed loudly.

"Fine. Your dear aunt will help you out. Don’t waste this chance too."

"What can you possibly do? Luther is locked up by Emiliano. There is no access to him."

"Everything is accessible if you put in the effort, dear nephew. You just need to obey me and you’ll get a husband and I’ll get a fortune."

I stood there, staring at nothing, the decision looping in my head like a bad song I couldn’t turn off

But I’d been thinking. Too much. Circling the same two or three possibilities until they blurred together, until I couldn’t tell if I was being careful or just afraid of the consequences. Still, I didn’t move.

Sometimes, indecision feels safer than the wrong choice.

I finally nodded quietly. I inhale the smoky, heavy air and ask:

"What do I need to do?"