The moment Victor Quinn made his offer, Clara Hayes gritted her teeth. This man still had the audacity to toy with her, even now, when she had finally summoned the courage to break the bond with him. She knew exactly why she couldn’t return to his house. Not after everything.

Victor had a way of using Amelia, their daughter, as a pawn, a reminder of the cage she had been trapped in for years. He would instruct Amelia to prod, question, and tease until Clara’s resolve faltered, and he could regain his control.

“You’re so funny, Victor,” Clara said, her tone sharp, dripping with bitter sarcasm.

“I thought I’d given you the golden opportunity to indulge in whatever you want with your secretary. Hell, you can sleep with anyone without guilt—not that you’re capable of feeling guilt in the first place.”

Victor’s laugh was light, careless.

“Hmm? I’ll still indulge with my secretary after this little…‘running away’ episode you pulled. I just don’t want Amelia to feel like she’s lost her mother,” he said casually, as if her mockery were nothing more than an amusing distraction.

Clara’s wolf instincts prickled. She had faced Victor’s manipulations countless times, but now, the stakes were higher: for Amelia’s happiness and safety.

“She will never lose her mom,” Clara retorted, her voice biting and precise.

“But she had already lost her dad a long time ago.”

Victor raised a brow, seemingly unfazed by her outburst.

“Fine,” Clara continued, her resolve hardening. “I will go to your mother’s party—and I will take Amelia with me.”

Beep.

Clara clenched her phone, letting out a low, frustrated groan. She tossed it onto the bed and buried her face in her palms. She had hoped that after separating herself from the Quinn family, she would be free, but Victor had already tried to cage her again.

Using Amelia as leverage was an act she had expected, but it still filled her with fury.

“Fuck… now I have to play the good mother and happy family routine with Victor again,” Clara muttered to herself.

She thought of Elena Quinn, Victor’s mother, and her expectations. Elena had always demanded perfection from Clara: flawless composure, a smile at all times, obedience to every word. Any hint of complaint about Victor would draw scorn, criticism, and lectures about respect, dignity, and the sanctity of family. Clara had spent years under that scrutiny, her personal desires and pain dismissed repeatedly.

Taking a deep breath, Clara steadied herself.

“It’s okay, Clara,” she whispered under her breath, the words half encouragement, half warning.

“This will be the last time you’ll step into that house. All you need to do is take Amelia, put on a fake smile, and make sure she doesn’t notice the divorce too soon. That’s it.”

Victor, on the other end, scoffed as Clara abruptly ended the call. He knew precisely what she couldn’t resist: her daughter. It was a simple equation. Victor smiled to himself.

“Heh, dumb little wolf,” he muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Amelia returned clutching a baby doll with a functional pacifier that cried on command.

“Daddy, I want this one!” she chirped.

Victor picked up the doll and smiled. “You want this? My little princess wants to take care of a baby now?”

“No, Daddy! That’s for Mommy!” Amelia exclaimed. “Mommy and I will take care of the baby together!”

Victor chuckled, lifting the doll and offering a teasing smile. “Hmm? Only Mom? Daddy can take care of the baby too, you know.”

“Nah, Daddy can’t do that,” Amelia huffed, her little nose wrinkling.

“Why not?” Victor asked curiously.

“Because Daddy is not a good daddy for this baby. He’s never home!” she said, innocently, but the words hit Victor’s pride sharply. Clara, if she could see this, would smile quietly. Amelia’s instincts were sharp, even at six years old, she could sense the cracks in Victor’s alpha façade.

….

Clara, meanwhile, prepared herself meticulously for Elena Quinn’s birthday party. She adjusted a small pair of earrings, called an Uber, and checked the route, all the while glancing at the phone to ensure Victor hadn’t changed plans.

Victor, of course, felt the phone vibrate in his hand. He had been watching Amelia carefully in the mall, and now the game had begun. He picked up casually.

“Yes?” he said, the lightness in his voice almost taunting.

“Victor, where are you right now? I’m heading to your mother’s mansion,” Clara informed him. She scanned the streets as the Uber moved toward the mansion, estimating her arrival.

“Oh, Amelia and I are already at the party,” Victor replied smoothly. “She’s with her grandmother at the moment. My mother has been asking about you multiple times,” he added, lowering his voice slightly.

“She says you’re lazy, Clara. That you can’t take care of yourself or your family properly. Not wrong, really.”

Beep.

Clara hung up again, suppressing a growl of frustration. Fighting Victor over the phone was futile. Soon, their paths would separate permanently; the sooner she cut out the toxicity, the better.

Thirty minutes later, Clara arrived at the Quinn mansion. Rows of sleek, expensive cars lined the driveway. She barely glanced at them; she had grown used to the trappings of old-money families through years of marriage, though she loathed them.

The Uber driver commented nervously, “Wow… all these cars. That’s insane.”

Clara chuckled dryly. “You get used to it after a while. Nothing but bootlickers.”

She stepped out of the car, surveying the mansion. The crowd was filled with the elite, flaunting wealth with every gesture. Clara ignored the whispers about her dress, knowing they were all gifts from Victor over the years.

Instead, she had chosen a simple black dress, one she owned before her marriage. It fit her perfectly, elegant without pretension.

Striding toward the main hall, she barely registered the heat of embarrassment prickling at her skin. She was accustomed to the judging eyes, the subtle disdain of women who measured her worth by labels she didn’t care about.

Suddenly, a figure stepped into her path, blocking her way.

“You actually came, huh?” a familiar voice purred.

Clara looked up and met Victor’s smirk. He leaned casually, alpha energy radiating in waves she could almost feel.

“That old dress looks good on you, though…” he said, his tone teasing, almost reminiscent of their reckless college days.

“It reminds me of that crazy time we had in my car back in college.”