Claimed after divorce by my brother’s best friend

ARIA POV I was so happy, truly, foolishly happy. I was standing in the center of the banquet hall with a glass in my hand, feeling warm all the way down to my bones. The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, the kind that only comes when people believe they’re witnessing success up close. Crystal clinked. Someone brushed past me, smelling like expensive cologne and money. This was the life I’d chosen for myself, and I loved it. I loved seeing Jasper like that—confident, relaxed, admired. He stood tall in his tailored suit, shoulders back, laughing easily as people congratulated him. This was his element. He belonged in rooms like this, commanding attention without ever asking for it. And he was mine. Not fully yet though, and it was just my fault. I hadn't told him who I really was, even if we’d been together for six years and I’d been the only mother his children had ever met. Kara would always tell me to wait another day, to reach another milestone before telling him we were wolves too. Jasper McGinley, Alpha of Crescent Moon pack, was my husband. I met him in college, I was a bright chemistry student and he was a businessman with an open internship in his company, MoonNutrition. I’ve always known I couldn’t have my fated mate, and finding an Alpha, smart and charming, willing to marry the little old me, hidden in the human world, seemed out of a fairytale. He was a single dad, I never knew what happened to his fated mate but I thought it was fate, it was the moon goddess giving me a chance to have a perfect family. Instant family. And, even if everything wasn’t perfect, I loved him and his kids beyond anyone else. When the music softened and someone tapped a spoon against a glass, I felt a flutter of excitement rather than nerves. I knew what was coming. I stepped forward before Jasper could, lifting my glass higher. “Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment?” The room quieted. Dozens of faces turned toward me. Jasper glanced at me in surprise, then smiled—fond, indulgent, like he always did when I took initiative in small, simple ways. “I promise I won’t keep you long,” I said lightly. “I just wanted to say how proud I am.” A few approving murmurs followed. I turned toward Jasper, meeting his eyes. “This launch hasn’t been easy. Anyone who’s been close to Jasper over the last year knows how much work went into this. How many late nights, how much stress.” I smiled at him. “How stubborn he can be.” Laughter rippled through the crowd. “But tonight proves something,” I continued. “It proves that vision and perseverance still matter. That integrity still matters. And that this company—your company—is going to change lives.” Applause rose, genuine and loud. I lifted my glass higher. “To Jasper. To MoonNutrition. And to the future.” “To the future,” the room echoed. Jasper leaned in and kissed my cheek, warm and familiar. “Thank you,” he murmured. “You always know what to say.” I believed him. I believed in us. The supplement was already a success. Reports were coming in faster than expected—positive outcomes, increased fertility markers, early pregnancies. Investors were thrilled. Doctors cautious but intrigued. No one asked where the idea came from. That was fine. The company was Jasper’s. The spotlight belonged to him. I didn’t need recognition. I had my reward at home—our house, our routine, our twins asleep in their beds every night. Ella and Owen were nearby, sitting at a small table with coloring books, watched by one of the pack nannies. Ella waved at me enthusiastically when she caught my eye. Owen grinned, missing one tooth. My chest ached with affection. I felt settled. Safe. Like the hard choices I’d made were justified. I didn’t see the woman enter at first. I was mid-conversation with one of Jasper’s partners, nodding politely as he talked about market projections, when the noise level shifted. It wasn’t sudden. Just… off. Voices lowered. Laughter stumbled. Something inside me tightened. I turned. She stood near the entrance, hands clasped together, shoulders drawn inward as if bracing herself. Her dress was pale blue, simple to the point of looking deliberate. Her face was pale, eyes red, lips pressed together like she was holding herself together by force. I didn’t know her. But my body reacted anyway, and I had to grit my teeth to keep Kara from snarling out loud. My skin prickled. A low, restless unease curled in my stomach. I told myself it was nothing—just an unexpected interruption. Jasper went very still beside me. Not startled. Not confused. Frozen. I looked up at him, frowning. “Jasper?” He didn’t answer. The woman took a hesitant step forward. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice shaking slightly. “I know this isn’t the right time. I won’t stay long.” People were openly watching now. Curiosity sharpened into interest. I felt eyes slide toward me, then back to her. “I just needed to apologize,” she continued. “For the way I left. For everything.” Jasper swallowed. Hard. “Chloe,” he said. He knew her. My smile faded. “I didn’t know how else to do this,” she said softly. “I’ve rehearsed it a hundred times, and none of them felt right.” Her gaze flicked to me then. Quick. Assessing. “I’m sorry,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “To you as well.” Something cold settled in my chest. I didn’t know what she was apologizing for. I didn’t understand why Jasper looked like he might shatter. But I didn’t like it. Not one bit. Whispers reached me from behind. Whispers I wouldn’t have heard if I’d been just a human like all of them believed. But I was not. “That’s her.”
“His fated.”
“The twins’ mother.” The words didn’t make sense at first. They slid off my mind, refused to settle. Chloe’s voice wavered. “I left after the birth. I was sick. I couldn’t cope. Postpartum nearly destroyed me.” The room seemed to tilt. I looked down instinctively, my eyes finding Ella and Owen across the room. Ella had stopped coloring. She was watching us now, brow furrowed. My heart started to pound. “I never meant to abandon them,” Chloe said. “I just… I wasn’t safe. For them. Or for myself.” Postpartum. “I’ve been in treatment,” she continued. “I’ve healed. I just wanted to see them. Even once.” Jasper stepped forward. He didn’t look at me. “We shouldn’t talk about this here,” he said quietly. Relief washed over her face, just like my own gut twisted sharply. “I know,” she whispered. “I didn’t know where else to go.” “I’ll arrange somewhere for you to stay,” Jasper said. “We’ll talk.” The certainty in his voice made my stomach drop. She nodded, tears spilling freely now. “Thank you.” He turned toward the exit, already guiding her away with a hand hovering near her back. I stood there, glass still raised in my hand, the echo of my own toast ringing in my ears. I waited for him to look at me. He didn’t. For a moment, I considered stopping him. Calling his name. Demanding an explanation. But the room was watching. The children were watching. So I did what I always did. I adapted. I crossed the room, lifted Owen into my arms when he reached for me, pressed a kiss to Ella’s hair. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “Go back to coloring.” Guests hovered awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. I straightened, smoothed my dress, and smiled. “Please,” I said calmly. “Enjoy the evening. My husband will rejoin us shortly.” They accepted it gratefully. Music resumed. Conversations restarted. They praised my composure later. My grace. I raised my glass again. My hand didn’t shake. “To success,” I said, voice steady. “And to family.” The cheers were thinner this time. And as I drank, I watched the door Jasper disappeared through, knowing—deep down—that whatever happiness I’d felt at the start of the night was already gone. I just didn’t know yet how much it would cost me.