Chapter 1Raising the Wolf

He was the son of my late friend. I’m no saint.

I only took him in because he looked pitiful, deciding to feed him and raise him on a whim.

I never expected that the little "stray dog," once all grown up, would turn into a "wolf."

A "wolf" with his sights set entirely on me.

* * *

I attended a friend’s funeral, but I ended up bringing her son home.

I had intended to leave right after the burial service, but I paused by a tree, watching the boy surrounded by a crowd of people. I listened for a while.

Those people were definitely scheming, trying to get their hands on the house and the money.

They made a big show of saying they would raise him until he was an adult, their tone implying they were doing him a massive favor.

But they clearly had no intention of giving him a single cent of his mother's inheritance.

I turned to look at the photo of the gentle woman smiling on the headstone and thought with a scoff:

"You soft-hearted fool. I told you your relatives couldn't be trusted, but you wouldn't listen! Now they're bullying your orphaned son."

But I didn't plan on stepping in to help him. I owed his mother a favor, not him. I’m no saint.

I was just curious to see what he would do. Would he cry and beg that pack of wolves?

But he just stood there, his head bowed, without saying a word.

Boring.

I dusted off my hands, ready to go home.

Suddenly, he raised his head and looked straight at me.

His eyes were red, filled with a ragged, defensive stubbornness.

In that moment, it was as if I saw my younger self from years ago—just like that, like a stray dog ready to bite.

We locked eyes. Neither of us looked away.

"Hey, want to come live with me?" I raised an eyebrow and smiled at him.

The group of aggressive relatives finally noticed me standing there.

A flash of awkwardness crossed their faces, followed immediately by anger. "This is family business!"

I ignored them, swaying my hips as I walked up to the boy, dropping my smile. "I was a friend of your mother’s. I owe her a favor, so I can take you in, but..."

I swept my gaze over the rest of the people there, enunciating every word clearly: "If they steal your inheritance, once you're older and have the means, you'll have to get it back yourself. I won't help you."

It was as if I had ripped off their masks. The crowd started yelling, accusing me of talking nonsense.

I just kept my eyes on the boy. "Of course, you can choose to go with them. It’s your choice."

In the end, he came home with me.

After settling him into the guest room, a wave of discomfort washed over me—the feeling of a stranger invading my personal space.

I shouldn't have brought him back.

Feeling a bit irritated, I retreated to my home office, using my design sketches to calm my nerves.