“Ditch your stupid nostalgia, Victor. Where is Amelia?” Clara demanded, her voice sharp as she glared at him.

Victor’s eyes glinted with that same arrogance she had grown to hate. Everything seemed like a game to him. He didn’t laugh aloud, but the faint curve of a smug smile rested on his lips, enough to make Clara’s skin crawl.

“Amelia is with my mother right now,” Victor replied smoothly.

“She’s waiting for you in her room.”

Clara’s gaze flicked to the half-sliced cake on the table. Elena had already returned to her private chambers, leaving the guests to enjoy the remainder of the party. Clara clenched her jaw. She didn’t need to say a word; her sharp glare said enough.

Victor watched her back. Clara’s dress revealed the graceful curve of her back, a form she had once taken pride in.

Though motherhood and years of marital stress had altered her figure, she had slowly regained the original curves that had first captivated him.

Depression, stress, and her years-long struggle with an eating disorder had carved her body into something lean and elegant. A body resembling that of a model.

“See? She’s losing more fat. I’m doing her a favor,” Victor muttered under his breath, finishing the wine in his hand, blissfully unaware of how close he was to losing everything.

Clara carefully steps down the long corridor. The marble tiles, partially covered by the red carpet, reflected her sharp heels as they clicked with each stride. The grand doors at the end of the hallway stood before her, guarded by two security officers who immediately recognized her.

They opened the doors, and Clara passed through without hesitation.

Inside, her daughter and her mother-in-law were seated.

Elena, graceful and commanding even at fifty-five, had an air of untouchable authority. She barely smiled when Clara entered.

“Happy birthday, Elena,” Clara said through a thin smile.

Elena’s gaze swept Clara from head to toe. Amelia fidgeted beside her, clutching a small bag of cookies.

“Dear, would you mind stepping aside for a moment?” Elena asked Amelia.

“You can return to your father once the meeting is over, or ask the security to escort you anywhere you want.”

“Ok, Granny! I’ll take the cookies!” Amelia chirped, hugging the bag as she ran toward her mother.

Clara crouched, wiping chocolate from her daughter’s lips gently.

“Mommy had some things to take care of. I need to talk to your Grandma first, okay?”

“Okay!”

Once Amelia left, only Clara and Elena remained in the room. Clara observed Elena carefully. Even at her age, Elena exuded sophistication and power. Her blue dress was understated yet undeniably expensive, her dangling diamond earrings catching the light with each subtle movement, and the fur shawl across her shoulders whispered wealth without ostentation. Despite turning fifty-five, her skin was nearly flawless, with only faint lines hinting at the years she had endured.

Elena’s gaze fixed Clara in place.

“Today is my special day,” Elena began.

“Out with it. Did you come here just to embarrass my son?”

“Huh?” Clara replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Elena continued sharply.

“He bought you countless dresses, yet you show up in that old thing from years ago. That’s… ridiculous!”

Clara turned slightly, ensuring Amelia was far enough away. Then she raised her chin. “I won’t take anything from him, Elena.”

“Him? You mean your husband. Your mate, Victor?”

“He’s not my mate. Not anymore,” Clara said, her voice steady. “I’ve decided to file for divorce. You heard me right. I’m waiting for his signature on the papers so I can leave that man behind as soon as possible.”

Clara had expected Elena to react violently, to yell or curse her out for daring to defy her son. After all, Elena loved Victor fiercely, and Clara knew she would not tolerate anyone threatening his life or comfort.

But Elena only chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down Clara’s spine. There was something cold behind it, like a predator toying with its prey before the strike.

“I—I’m not lying, Elena. I’m here to take Amelia with me and leave,” Clara warned, her patience fraying.

Elena’s smile widened, but her eyes remained hard, sharp as a blade.

“Oh, Clara Quinn, you’re amusing,” she said. “Your problems are not mine. Do you think I care who my son marries or mates? Or how he conducts his life? I don’t. Victor’s role is simple: continue his late father’s legacy, protect the pack, and give me a grandchild.”

Clara’s mouth went dry, anger and disbelief warring inside her.

“Well, obviously, Victor is a competent son and father,” Elena continued, “He maintains control over the pack businesses and has given me a granddaughter. Your role as a Luna in this house… is finished. You’re no longer needed.”

“But—”

“You’re not like those wealthy, educated young women my friends have,” Elena snapped, lighting a cigarette that smelled faintly of leather and jasmine. “Nor are you a movie star that everyone fawns over. You’re just… ordinary. Poor. Useless in the grand scheme of things. The only thing you have of value is…” she paused, her gaze flicking downward in a deliberately suggestive manner,

“…between your thighs.”

Clara felt a wave of nausea, fury, and disbelief wash over her. She had anticipated criticism and judgment, but not such a merciless, degrading assessment.

Clara would not let Elena’s words break her. “I am not here to prove anything to you,” Clara said, voice strong.

“I am here to take my daughter and leave. My choices, my life, my daughter’s life, are none of your concern.”

Elena tilted her head, examining Clara as if weighing her spirit against some invisible scale. Her lips curved into that chilling smile again.

“Very well,” she said softly.

“But remember, Clara Hayes, life outside this pack is… unpredictable. You may find freedom, but it comes at a cost. Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed.”

Clara’s jaw tightened. She felt the weight of that warning, though she couldn’t articulate why it unsettled her.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and nodded. “I will take Amelia and leave. That is all you need to know.”

Elena flicked the ash from her cigarette and narrowed her eyes. “We shall see, Clara. We shall see.”