The Werewolf Summoning

The cold air of Blackwell Enterprises’ towering skyscraper chilled Isabella Moretti to the bone as she stared at the contract before her. The legal papers were pristine, clinical, and impersonal. The ink on the pages was her fate, her legacy, and her life. She could feel the weight of her family’s expectations pressing down on her like a heavy shroud, but the cold man sitting across from her, Sebastian Blackwell, seemed unfazed.

The room was silent except for the faint rustle of papers being shuffled as Sebastian read through the contract. He was perfect in every way—distant, composed, utterly untouchable. It was no wonder her father had chosen him for her. They were a perfect match in a world where emotions were mere distractions.

Isabella glanced up at him, her fingers trembling as she reached for the pen. She had always known this day would come. A marriage of convenience. A business transaction disguised as a union. And yet, in this moment, her heart felt like it might break into a thousand pieces.

Sebastian’s gaze met hers, dark and unreadable. “Sign it, Isabella. This is the only way to protect your family’s legacy,” he said, his voice cold, almost like an order.

Her chest tightened. “This isn’t what I want,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The words felt foreign on her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them louder. “I never asked for this.”

Sebastian’s lips curled into a thin, almost pitying smile. “No one asks for a cage, Isabella. But sometimes, we all have to live in one.”

Her fingers gripped the pen tightly, the weight of her own future in her hand. She could feel her breath quickening, but there was no going back now. With one final glance at the signature line, she signed her name.

Isabella Moretti.

The words felt like a death sentence. Her family’s empire, her father’s wishes, her legacy—everything she was supposed to be—was now sealed by ink.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of the moment. “You’ve made the right choice,” he said, his voice cool as ice. “This will ensure your name stays intact. And mine.”

Isabella swallowed the lump in her throat and stood, her hands trembling as she placed the pen down on the desk. There was no joy in this. No relief. Only an emptiness that seemed to stretch on forever.

AT THE ALTAR

Isabella Moretti stood at the altar, her pulse hammering in her throat. The dress she wore—an extravagant, ivory gown with intricate lace—felt suffocating. The weight of her family’s expectations pressed against her chest, just as heavy as the veil that obscured her face. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way. It was supposed to be a formality, a business deal—no different than the countless meetings, the contracts her father signed with a cold handshake.

Yet, as she looked into the stormy eyes of the man standing across from her, her heart betrayed her.

Sebastian Blackwell, the enigmatic billionaire who had arranged this marriage, towered before her like a silent force of nature. His jaw was clenched, his expression unreadable, but there was a dark intensity in his gaze. He wasn’t smiling, wasn’t even pretending to be happy. No, Sebastian didn’t believe in pretending. And neither did she.

“I do.” The words left her lips, but they barely carried over the heavy silence that enveloped the room.

She wanted to say more—something real, something honest. But what good would that do? The cameras were already flashing, capturing the lie she had been trained to tell.

Sebastian squeezed her hand, the touch firm, commanding, as though reminding her of the contract they’d signed long before this day. A cold, detached business deal wrapped in silk and lace.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest’s voice rang out.

The words hung in the air for a moment before Sebastian moved closer, his tall form towering over her. His lips brushed hers, and for a fleeting second, she felt a spark—a warmth that made her pulse spike. It was fleeting. Brief. The kiss was nothing more than an obligatory gesture, a show for the guests, the media, and the empire they were now bound together to protect.

But it lingered.

As he pulled away, his hand lingered on her waist, steadying her as the world around them came into focus again. Her vision was blurred—her throat tight with the words she couldn’t say. She had always been the dutiful daughter, the obedient woman—trained to be perfect for the world, for the family, for him.

But something inside her recoiled. The man standing before her wasn’t the stranger she had expected, but neither was he the one she had hoped for.

Sebastian Blackwell was a mystery. He wasn’t here for love. And neither was she.

But the heat of his touch—the force behind his grip—made her wonder if they were both lying to themselves.

The reception felt like a blur. Her smile never faltered, but Isabella could feel the weight of her own lies pressing against her skin. The extravagant ballroom glittered with chandeliers, the scent of expensive flowers filling the air. Family and business associates mingled, their voices rising in conversation, but Isabella’s thoughts were miles away. She stood beside Sebastian, the man she had just married—yet, all she could think about was the one man she couldn’t forget.

Luca Rossi.

Her forbidden love. The one she had been told to forget. The one her family had exiled for being unworthy.

Isabella couldn’t even remember how she had gotten here—how she had gone from the girl who laughed with Luca in the fields, the girl who dreamed of a future with him, to this woman, standing at the altar with a man she barely knew.

Sebastian’s cold voice broke through her thoughts. “Smile. It’s a public event. Make it convincing.”

She forced her lips into a smile, meeting his gaze, though his eyes remained as distant as ever. They were both playing roles—performing the part they were expected to play. But beneath the polished exterior, something raw simmered.

Sebastian reached for her hand again, his grip firm, guiding her through the crowd. His touch was always steady, always in control—like everything in his life was mapped out with precision, down to the smallest detail. She didn’t belong here, and he knew it.

They made their way to the private suite, away from the prying eyes of the guests. The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly, it was just the two of them.

“I know this isn’t what either of us wanted,” he said, his voice quiet, controlled, but there was an edge to it. “But this is our reality now, Isabella.”

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t find the words. She had wanted to say so many things—things that weren’t appropriate, that didn’t belong in this arrangement.

Sebastian turned to face her, his eyes dark, intense. “I never asked for your love. I never needed it.”

Her heart clenched. “Then why… why this?”

“Because you’re a pawn in a game you don’t even know you’re playing. But I’m going to make sure you win it.”

Isabella swallowed hard. His words were cold, calculating, but there was something underneath them—a flicker of something that unsettled her.

Sebastian moved toward her slowly, and for the first time that night, she felt the heat in his gaze. The fire behind the calm exterior. “Do you know what happens when you take something from me, Isabella?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but her words faltered as he closed the space between them. The tension in the room thickened.

Before she could react, he was there, his lips crashing onto hers. There was nothing gentle about it—nothing romantic. It was possessive. Dominant. And in that moment, everything she thought she knew about him crumbled.

His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him. Isabella gasped, her body betraying her as her pulse raced. The kiss deepened, and despite herself, she felt something stir inside her—a desire she had never expected.

But it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

She broke away from him, her chest heaving. “What are you doing?”

Sebastian stared at her, his eyes burning with intensity. “What I should have done the moment you said ‘I do.’”

The words echoed in her mind as she stumbled backward, her mind racing.

“I don’t belong here,” she whispered.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “But you will.”

⸻

That night, as Isabella lay in the cold, sterile bed of the mansion, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting to Luca. To the man she had once loved. To the one she had abandoned.

She thought of the night she had run—fleeing the cold marriage she had been forced into, her wedding dress soaked by the rain, Luca’s arms around her, their reunion a blur of passion and guilt.

But now, it was too late.

She had made her choice.

At least, she thought she had.

⸻

The sound of a phone buzzing echoed through the empty room. Isabella’s fingers trembled as she picked it up.

It was a message from an unknown number.

“I know you’re married now. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Isabella. I’ll be waiting. – Luca.”

Her heart stopped.

And the world she thought she knew crumbled once again.