Chapter 158 Then divorce Clara
Author’s POV
Luna Rose appeared at the end of the hallway, leaning on two servants, age weighing on her bones—but her presence still commanded the room.
Marcus broke free and hid behind her skirt.
"He’s frightened," Rose observed. "Marcus, remember your manners. This is how wolves behave." She turned. "Margaret. I heard everything. You were wrong to hit her."
The words landed like a blow. "Mother, you can’t be serious—"
"The boy was watching. A pup should never see violence in his own home." Then, to Clara, a hint of steel: "And you must respect the chain of command. Margaret is the Luna of this house."
"Of course, Grandmother." Clara’s smile was sweet, poisonous. "I only want what’s best for the Pack."
"Then you’ll accept Margaret’s apology, and we’ll move on."
Margaret’s hands trembled. Apologize? To her?
"Margaret." Rose’s tone left no room for argument.
The words burned on the way out. "I’m sorry, Clara. You win."
Clara’s smile widened. "Oh, Mother. There’s no winning and losing in family. We’re all on the same side, aren’t we?" She took Marcus’s hand and walked away. The boy didn’t look back.
---
The moment Clara vanished, Margaret’s composure shattered. "She’s destroying this family! She doesn’t respect anyone—and now she’s turning my grandson against me!"
"I know it’s hard. But Gerald has his reasons."
"She’s not even his true mate! Why are we protecting her?"
"Enough." Rose’s voice cut sharp. "The company needs stability. Clara is the mother of Ethan’s son. That cannot be undone."
"But Aria—"
"Aria is gone. She chose to walk away. We cannot build our future on what’s already lost." Rose turned away, her voice a whisper.
"Endure it, Margaret. When the deal with the V&A Group is settled, Clara will go back where she belongs. Until then... we hold the line."
She left without another word.Margaret stood alone in the hallway, the afternoon light slanting through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor.
*Hold the line. Hold the line.*
Her fists clenched at her sides."If Clara was going to make my life hell, I wasn’t going to make Clara’s easy either."
---
Ethan’s POV
The call came just as I was leaving the office.
My phone buzzed against the mahogany desk, and I almost ignored it.
The evening had been long—meetings about the investors, discussions with investors who wanted guarantees I couldn’t give them, numbers that didn’t add up the way they should have.
My head was already pounding.
Then I saw the caller ID. *Mother.*
I picked up.
"Ethan." Her voice was raw, cracked, like she’d been crying for hours. "You need to come home. Now."
My blood went cold. "What happened? Are you—"
"She attacked me. In front of Marcus. In front of everyone." Margaret’s breath hitched. "Your *wife* thinks she can do whatever she wants. That she’s above the Luna of this Pack."
I closed my eyes, pressed two fingers to my temple. *Not again.*
"Mother, I’m sure if we just—"
"If you don’t come home tonight, Ethan Holt, don’t bother coming home at all."
The line went dead.
---
I made it to the estate in twenty minutes. Normally it took forty.
I went straight to Mother’s room.
She was lying in bed, propped up on three pillows, her face the color of ash. A doctor was packing up his bag by the window, and he gave me a look that made my stomach drop.
"Alpha Holt." He nodded. "Your mother has acute symptoms of myocarditis. Stress-induced. She needs complete rest—no agitation, no conflict."
*Acute myocarditis.*
I thanked him, waited until he left, then crossed to her bedside.
She looked so small. So fragile. Seeing her like this, pale and trembling, made something crack inside me.
"Mom." I took her hand. "Why did you let yourself get so worked up? Your health is what matters most."
She turned her face away from me, but I saw the tear slide down her nose, catch on her lip.
"You don’t care if I live or die anyway. Raising a son... it’s my own fault. My own punishment."
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. "How can you say that? Of course I care. Mom, I know I’ve failed you. I know I’m not the son you wanted me to be. But please—just focus on getting better. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it."
She turned back, her eyes sharp despite her exhaustion. "Then divorce Clara."
The silence stretched between us like a wound.
"Mom—"
"What?" She sat up, her body trembling with effort. "You don’t want to? You’d choose her over your own mother?"
She grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "Ethan, listen to me. If you have to choose between your mother and Clara, you would choose *her*?"
"This isn’t a choice, Mom. Why does it have to be—"
"Because she wants me dead!" Margaret’s voice cracked. "She’s poisoning this house, poisoning your son, and you’re standing there defending her?"
"I’ll talk to her. I’ll make her understand—"
"Understand?" Margaret laughed, bitter and broken. "She hates me, Ethan. She wants me gone. And the only reason she hasn’t succeeded is that your father told me to keep the peace. For the Pack. For the company. But what happens after that? What happens when she’s destroyed everything I’ve built?"
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her she was wrong.
But I couldn’t.
Because everything she said was true.
---
Clara had betrayed me. She’d gone behind my back, threatened my mother, manipulated my father. And I’d let her.
Because I owed her. Because of Marcus. Because ten years of history couldn’t just be erased.
But lately, being around her felt like drowning.
I’d been working late every night. Coming home only for dinner, spending time with Marcus, then leaving. I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her.
Every time I looked at her, I saw the deceit. The scheming. The way she’d torn apart something I’d never even had the courage to fully build.
And yet... I couldn’t let go.
*She saved my life,* I reminded myself. *She gave me a son. I owe her.*
Maybe this was just a rough patch. Maybe if I held on long enough, things would get better.
But then Mother’s words echoed in my head: *If you divorce Clara...*
For one dangerous moment, I let myself imagine it.
Aria.
Her green eyes. Her quiet strength. The way she’d challenged me, pushed me, made me want to be better.
If Clara were gone... could I go back to her? Could I win her trust again?