Kierra POV:

My first reaction to the mysterious text was suspicion. I walked to the window, carefully lifting a corner of the curtain to look down at the street below.

A black Bentley was parked at the curb, its lines sleek and powerful. A tall man leaned against the car, his form imposing in the darkness, clad in a perfectly tailored black suit.

Even though I couldn't see his face clearly, the oppressive aura he projected made my heart clench. He seemed to sense my gaze, lifting his head and looking directly at my window.

I dropped the curtain immediately, my heart pounding against my ribs. Who was he?Why is he here? Could that mysterious text message have been sent by him? A fierce impulse drives me—I must get to the bottom of all this.

I changed quickly into a simple black dress and a trench coat.

Grabbing my phone and car keys, I went downstairs, fully prepared to call the police if he had any ill intentions.

As I stepped out of the building's main entrance, the man straightened up. He walked toward me, each step radiating the pressure of an Alpha.

When he got closer, I finally saw his face.

It was Burton Houston. The Alpha of the Stone River pack and the CEO of the commercial empire, Houston Holdings. I'd seen him in business magazines. He was even more intimidating in person, his golden eyes as sharp as a hawk's.

"Mr. Houston?" I asked, surprised. He wasn't part of my circle, or George's. We had only seen each other once, from a distance, at some gala.

"Ms. Sloan," his voice deep and magnetic. "I happened to know you needed to be somewhere, and we're heading in the same direction."I suddenly realized that no one except the sender of that anonymous video could possibly know that I am currently urgently dealing with George's mess, let alone that I need to go to Thornton Manor.

It hit me instantly. He was the one who sent the video. A complex mix of emotions washed over me-annoyance at being used, but also a sliver of gratitude for the help.

"It was you," I stated, not a question.

Burton didn't confirm or deny it. He simply pulled open the back door of the Bentley and gestured for me to get in.

I weighed my options for three seconds. If I drove there myself, Beatrice might not even see me. She will see me as nothing more than an insignificant nuisance, a discarded fiancée who can be easily brushed aside. The power of the Thornton family and Beatrice's own arrogance would be more than enough to have me turned away at the door, or fobbed off with a perfunctory attitude.But with Burton Houston... the outcome would be entirely different.His name alone is a passport—an authority that brooks no question. As the Alpha of the Stone River Pack and the CEO of Houston Holdings, his very presence would fundamentally alter the nature of this matter. Beatrice could not ignore him, much less dismiss any request he represents. His involvement would ensure that my demands are taken seriously, not brushed aside with ease.

I didn't hesitate any longer. I slid into the car. The interior was spacious, filled with the faint, pleasant scent of cedar and leather.

The drive to the Thornton estate was silent. Burton drove himself, the only sound in the car the steady hum of the engine. I could feel his occasional glances in the rearview mirror, but I pretended not to notice.

The Bentley stopped smoothly in front of the ornate iron gates of the Thornton estate. As expected, when I gave my name, the guard said, "Mrs. Thornton is not seeing any visitors."

Just as I was about to argue, Burton lowered his window. The guard's face went pale the moment he saw him. "A-Alpha Houston!" he stammered.

The guard immediately spoke into his intercom. A minute later, the gates slid open without a sound.

The car drove directly to the main house. Beatrice Thornton was already waiting at the door, a fake smile plastered on her face. But when she saw Burton step out of the driver's seat, her smile froze.

"Burton? What are you doing here?" Beatrice's voice was filled with surprise and a hint of fear I couldn't miss.

"I'm escorting Ms. Sloan here to resolve some unpleasant business," Burton said, his tone flat but carrying an authority that allowed no argument.

We were led into the living room. Beatrice tried to pull me aside, but a single look from Burton stopped her.

I didn't waste any more time. I placed my phone on the coffee table and played the video.

Beatrice's face turned to stone, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. After watching it, her first instinct was to look at Burton, her eyes pleading.

"I need the Thornton family to issue a public statement," I said calmly, stating my demand. "Announcing the dissolution of the engagement and apologizing for the harm George's actions have caused me."

Beatrice's face turned ashen. "Kierra, this is about family honor..."

"Honor?" Burton suddenly spoke. He was toying with a lighter, making a sharp clicking sound. "Would the Thornton family have more honor if this story appeared on the front page of The New York Times tomorrow?"

That broke her. Beatrice knew Burton had the power to do it. She shot me a venomous glare, then picked up the phone.

Half an hour later, the Thornton family's official social media account posted the statement. I reposted it with my own caption: "Trash belongs in the trash can. Glad to be free."

Then, I left in Burton's car, leaving the whole mess behind me.