Chapter 210 Did you hear that, Clara?
Aria’s POV
These past few days had been a whirlwind of wrapping up loose ends.
Mornings were spent at V&A Group, afternoons at Holt Enterprises. The transition of power needed to be swift and absolute—no room for anyone to challenge my authority.
The moment I stepped out of the building’s front entrance, I felt it. That familiar, suffocating presence.
"Aria!"
Ethan’s voice cut through the afternoon air like a blade. I heard the car door slam, footsteps pounding against pavement.
Two security guards immediately moved to intercept him. One of my personal bodyguards stepped in front of me, blocking my view.
I turned slowly, deliberately, letting him wait. When I finally looked at him from my position on the elevated entrance steps, I had to suppress a bitter laugh.
The man standing half a meter below me was barely recognizable.
Ethan Holt, who’d always been so meticulous about his appearance, looked like he’d crawled out of a gutter.
His usually clean-shaven jaw was covered in stubble, his shirt collar hung open and wrinkled, his suit jacket creased beyond repair.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his skin had an unhealthy pallor.
Good. He deserved to suffer.
He was breathing hard, too hard for someone who’d only run a few steps. When the security guard shoved him back, he doubled over coughing, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air.
Still, he refused to leave. Instead, he looked up at me with those pathetic, pleading eyes.
"Please," he gasped out between coughs. "Just let me talk to you for a minute. I know I messed up... I know you can’t stand to look at me right now."
His voice cracked. "But just... for what we once had. For what we meant to each other."
I felt my expression harden into ice. *Once had?* Oh, that was rich.
"Ethan," I said coldly, letting my contempt drip from every syllable. "You think you have the right to talk to me about what we ’once had’? Are you here to tell me jokes?"
"I don’t have the right," he admitted, his voice breaking. "But I... I really did love you. I *do* love you."
His eyebrows drew together, his pale lips trembling. Then his legs buckled.
I watched in stunned silence as Ethan Holt—Alpha of Silver Creek Pack, the man who’d built his entire identity on pride and dominance—dropped to his knees in front of me.
For a split second, surprise flickered through me. Then it was replaced by cold, vicious satisfaction.
"Well," I drawled, letting my voice carry just enough to make him flinch. "Turns out your sense of dignity is worth about as much as your wedding vows. Which is to say, absolutely nothing."
I tilted my head, studying him like he was an insect pinned to a board. "If you haven’t gotten your fill of playacting yet, go home and perform for Clara. I’m sure she’d love another show."
"Aria, this isn’t an act! It’s not about the company either!" His words tumbled out in a desperate rush.
"I’ve thought about it—really thought about it. I don’t need any of it. Not the Pack, not the business, none of it! I came here for *you*. I just want... I want us to start over."
He was looking at me like I was the only thing keeping him alive. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Part of me—the part that remembered being twenty-two and in love—wanted to feel something. Sympathy, maybe. Or vindication.
But all I felt was cold, empty contempt.
I turned and started walking toward him. Just a few steps, enough to close the distance.
Ethan must have thought I was actually considering his words, because his expression shifted into something almost hopeful.
He scrambled to his feet and kept talking, words spilling out faster and faster.
"I know I was a complete idiot before. I didn’t appreciate what I had with you... but you have to believe me, ever since you left, I haven’t been able to think about anything else. You’re all I see when I close my eyes—"
"Aria, please." His voice broke again. "Just give me one more chance. I swear to you, my heart won’t waver this time. I’ll never—"
"Ethan." I stopped walking. My voice was soft, almost gentle. "If you want to start over with me, what happens to Clara?"
The question hung in the air between us like a noose.
Ethan didn’t even hesitate. "I’ll divorce her."
"What if she doesn’t agree?" I pressed, keeping my tone light and curious. "And what about Marcus? He’s your son. Your *biological* child. The Holt family can’t exactly pretend he doesn’t exist."
"My family never wanted her as my Luna in the first place," Ethan said quickly, desperately. "Whether she agrees or not doesn’t matter. I only want to be with you. As for Marcus... Clara can keep him. We’ll have our own child together."
There it was. The final nail in his coffin.
The man was so frantic, so utterly consumed by whatever twisted emotions were driving him, that he’d just thrown his own son under the bus without a second thought.
I let the silence stretch for a moment, savoring it.
Then I smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
"Did you hear that, Clara?" I called out, my voice ringing clear across the street. "Your husband just said he’s absolutely determined to divorce you."