Chapter 105 How could I possibly marry someone else?
Aria’s POV
The kid looked ready to bolt the second he saw me.
Of course. Because nothing says "hospital visit" like running into your fake son who hates your guts.
Marcus’s eyes locked onto mine, and before the assistant could stop him, he broke free and charged at me.
He scooped up something from the ground—a rock, maybe a piece of gravel—and hurled it at me.
It hit my arm with a sharp sting.
I didn’t even flinch.
The kid tried to run, but I was faster. I caught his wrist mid-flight and twisted his arm behind his back—not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to make him stop squirming.
"Marcus," I said, my voice low and controlled. "You really think there’s no one here to keep you in check? You think I won’t defend myself just because you’re a child?"
He knew better than to test me. Last time he’d tried this stunt, I’d made it very clear that I didn’t play games.
"Let go! Let go of me!" He started wailing at the top of his lungs, tears streaming down his face. Fake tears, most likely. The kid was a better actor than half the wolves in Silver Creek Pack.
The assistant rushed over, looking panicked. "Luna Holt, please—he’s just a child! He doesn’t know any better! Everyone’s waiting for you upstairs..."
"Perfect." I didn’t loosen my grip.
"Since he has such strong feelings about Aunt Clara, maybe we should discuss this in front of the family. Marcus, if you love Clara so much, I’ll do you a favor. Let’s make her your real mother."
"No! No, no, no!" Marcus started thrashing, dragging his feet against the ground as I pulled him toward the elevator. "I don’t wanna go up there! You’re gonna get me in trouble!"
The assistant tried to intervene, blocking my path. I released Marcus abruptly, and the sudden loss of resistance sent him stumbling backward. He landed hard on the concrete floor.
Now he was really crying.
The assistant looked torn between helping the kid and stopping me. I pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan’s number.
He answered on the second ring. "Aria?"
"Are you at the hospital? Marcus just had an incident. You should come down and handle it."
I hung up before he could respond.
Less than two minutes later, Ethan came barreling out of the elevator, his expression a mix of confusion and poorly concealed hope.
"Aria, you came..." His voice actually lifted with what sounded like relief. "What happened?"
Then he spotted Marcus sobbing on the ground, and his face darkened.
"He wants Clara to be his mother," I said evenly, meeting Ethan’s eyes without flinching.
"Since that’s the case, I’m not going to stand in the way anymore. You have two options: either marry Clara and make it official, or dissolve my guardianship of Marcus and send him to live with her permanently."
Ethan’s face went pale. "What are you talking about? You’re my wife. How could I possibly marry someone else?"
I almost laughed. Almost.
He grabbed Marcus by the arm and yanked him to his feet, then delivered several sharp smacks to the kid’s backside.
"Stop crying!" Ethan’s voice was harsh, edged with anger I rarely heard directed at his son. "Right now!"
Marcus choked back his sobs, bottom lip trembling, but he didn’t dare make another sound.
"Aria is your mother," Ethan said through gritted teeth. "Do you understand me? Clara is not your family. "
"If you keep acting like this, maybe you’d prefer to go back to being a foster kid. Would you like that? Would you like to leave the Holt family and go back to living in the system?"
The threat hung in the air, ugly and raw.
For a split second, something flickered in Ethan’s expression—regret, maybe, or guilt. He was looking at Marcus like the words had hurt him as much as they’d hurt the boy.
I felt nothing.
Just cold, detached observation.
A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I turned away. I had no interest in watching their little father-son performance. Grandma Rose was waiting upstairs, and I’d already wasted enough time.
I headed for the elevator, leaving them both behind without a backward glance.
The doors slid shut, cutting off the sound of Marcus’s muffled crying and Ethan’s low, strained voice trying to comfort him.
Good. Let them deal with the mess they’d made.
I had other things to handle.