Chapter 474: Episode 472: When the King’s are Rich.

The Dragon King stared down at his Matriarch.

He forced his expression to remain completely, flawlessly calm. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing a stray dark curl from her forehead.

"Time is a constant, Matriarch," Zarek lied, his deep voice a smooth, unshakable rumble that carried the absolute weight of a Warlord’s promise. "A moon cycle here is a moon cycle there. The dimensional plates mirror one another. They are not aging without you. When we return, it will be exactly as we left it."

Roxy stared into his golden eyes, searching for any flicker of deceit. Finding none, a massive, shuddering breath of relief escaped her parted lips. The crushing weight on her chest instantly lifted.

"Okay," Roxy whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion finally pulled her under. "Okay. Good." 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Zarek stood completely still until her breathing leveled out into a deep, restorative sleep. Then, he closed his eyes, the toxic, agonizing guilt of his deception sinking its claws deeply into his chest. He was building her entire survival on a foundation of absolute falsehoods.

But it worked.

With the terrifying anxiety of time and abandonment completely neutralized by Zarek’s lie, Roxy threw her entire, unyielding spirit into her recovery.

Three months passed.

The turning of the calendar pages marked a physical transformation so miraculous it left the medical staff completely baffled. The frail, broken ghost that had been hauled out of Elias’s basement was methodically, relentlessly erased.

The agonizing physical therapy sessions transitioned from grueling torture into triumphant milestones. She moved from the parallel bars to a walker, and then, completely abandoning the aids, she walked the linoleum halls entirely on her own. The deep, purple bruises that had violently encircled her wrists and ankles faded into yellow shadows, and finally vanished completely, leaving behind only faint, silver scars.

The sickening, sallow gray of starvation was entirely flushed from her skin. Her cheeks filled out, softening the skeletal harshness of her face. The heavy, lustrous dark curls that had been matted and dull regained their beautiful, vibrant shine. The brilliant, sharp emerald green of her eyes returned to its full, commanding glory.

By the end of the third month, the Matriarch had fully returned to her flesh.

But while Roxy focused entirely on putting her physical body back together, her six mates focused entirely on overcompensating for the catastrophic lie they were harboring. Because they could not give her the Beastworld, they collectively decided to buy her the Earth.

The spoiling was not just extravagant; it was completely, undeniably apocalyptic.

It started with the food. Syris had taken one look at a hospital tray of gelatin and dry toast, his aristocratic features twisting in absolute disgust. By the end of the first week, the hospital cafeteria staff was permanently banned from the fourth floor.

Instead, a rotation of world-renowned, Michelin-star private chefs quietly took over the hospital’s staff kitchenette. Roxy woke up to the smell of freshly shaved white truffles over handmade pasta, imported Wagyu beef seared to absolute perfection, and delicate, hand-spun pastries. Kaelen meticulously fed her dark, rich berries flown in daily from organic farms across the globe, ensuring she received the highest quality antioxidants money could buy.

Then, it was the clothes.

The scratchy, humiliating cotton hospital gowns were violently discarded. Torian brought in massive, pristine boxes wrapped in silk ribbons. She spent her recovery lounging in custom-tailored, emerald-green silk robes that felt softer than water against her healing skin. She wore plush cashmere sweaters that kept the aggressive air conditioning completely at bay, and her bruised feet were wrapped in hand-stitched, wool-lined slippers.

But it was the environment that truly highlighted their absolute dominance.

During her second month of physical therapy, Roxy noticed that the hallway outside her room was incredibly quiet. The crying babies from the adjacent ward were gone. The chaotic beeping of other monitors had vanished. The frantic, rushing footsteps of overworked nurses were entirely absent.

She walked out of Room 412 one afternoon, leaning slightly on Ren’s solid arm, and realized the entire fourth-floor recovery wing was completely, utterly deserted. Every single room was empty.

The Alpha Kings hadn’t just requested a private room. They had quietly, ruthlessly monopolized the entire hospital wing, completely buying out the floor to ensure that absolutely no noise, infection, or inconvenience could possibly reach their Matriarch. The only people allowed past the elevator banks were a select team of elite, highly-paid doctors and heavily armed private security guards who stood at the stairwells looking completely terrified of Zarek.

Roxy sat on the edge of her plush, upgraded mattress, her legs swinging lightly as she ate a slice of imported dragon fruit from a crystal bowl.

The afternoon sun poured through the window, illuminating the small, space that had been transformed into an opulent, luxury suite.

She watched Kaelen standing near the window. The former King of the North was wearing a perfectly tailored, dark navy bespoke suit that easily cost more than the average human’s yearly salary. He was speaking softly into a sleek, cutting-edge smartphone, murmuring something about "liquidating the offshore assets" and "finalizing the corporate merger."

Across the room, Torian was casually flipping through a high-end architectural magazine. The massive White Tiger Alpha wore a heavy, glittering platinum Patek Philippe watch on his thick wrist—a timepiece that was exclusively available to the highest echelon of the global elite.

Syris walked into the room, holding a leather folder. He casually tossed a stack of heavily redacted, legally binding contracts onto the bedside table before leaning down to press a soft kiss to Roxy’s forehead. He smelled like expensive cologne and ruthless corporate aggression.

Roxy slowly lowered her silver spoon into the crystal bowl.

Her sharp, analytical mind, finally clear of the brain fog and medical sedation, began to violently process the logistical reality of her surroundings.

She knew the absolute basics of wholesale commerce and profit margins. She knew how incredibly difficult it was to build wealth from scratch. It required capital, connections, years of aggressive networking, and immense labor.

Her mates had literally ripped through a dimensional void a few months ago. They had arrived on this planet with absolutely nothing but the clothes on their backs and the sheer, physical dominance of their bodies. They had no identification. They had no bank accounts. They possessed no human currency.

Yet, they were currently operating with a level of limitless, staggering wealth that defied all logic. They had bought out a hospital wing. They were wearing millions of dollars worth of jewelry and bespoke tailoring. They were executing corporate mergers.

They didn’t just cross over and blend in. In the span of three months, while she was sleeping in a hospital bed, the Alpha Kings had completely, methodically conquered the human economy.

Roxy stared at the platinum watch on Torian’s wrist. She looked at the incredibly expensive, custom silk robe draped over her own shoulders.

The sheer absurdity of the situation completely overwhelmed her.

"Okay, stop," Roxy demanded, setting the crystal bowl down onto the tray with a sharp, definitive clink.

Kaelen instantly ended his phone call, slipping the device into his suit pocket. Torian dropped his magazine. Syris, Zarek, Ren, and Caspian all turned their full, undivided attention toward the bed, their expressions shifting into immediate, protective concern.

"Are you in pain, Matriarch?" Caspian asked quickly, stepping forward.

"No," Roxy replied, her brilliant green eyes sweeping over the six towering, impeccably dressed billionaires crowding her room. She gestured wildly around the opulent, monopolized hospital suite. "Like what the fuck is going on, where is all this money coming from? You guys can literally buy me off a slave market or something."