Claimed after divorce by my brother’s best friend

CH 6 - Aria

ARIA POV

A week had passed.

A week of flowers.

Every morning, a new bouquet appeared on the nightstand.

White lilies at first. Then roses. Then something pale and overarranged that smelled too sweet, too clean. Fresh every time. Always expensive. Always placed carefully, as if someone had taken a moment to decide exactly where they should sit.

By the fourth day, there wasn’t room for anything else.

Vases crowded the surface of the nightstand, the dresser, the windowsill. Glass pressed against glass. Water sloshing when I brushed past. Petals shedding onto the floor, soft and quiet, impossible to ignore.

The bedroom started to look like a grave after a funeral.

Not during—after.

When the mourners have gone home and only the flowers remain, alive and useless, marking something that’s already over.

They came from the same florist Jasper had always used for our anniversaries. An earth witch with a small shop downtown, known for bouquets that refused to wilt for days longer than they should. Ten days, sometimes more.

Once, I’d loved that about her work.

Now it felt obscene.

He must have thought this made him decent. A daily offering, placed in my absence, meant to soften the fact that he never stayed. A way to show remorse without actually facing me.

He never left a note.

He never climbed into bed.

Each morning, his side of the mattress was untouched. Cold. Smooth. Exactly the same as it had been the night before. No dent. No warmth. No trace of him lingering.

The smell was everywhere.

Thick. Sweet. Inescapable.

It made my stomach turn.

Because under the flowers—beneath the clean, polished scent of apology—I could smell something else.

Chloe.

Her perfume clung to the air in the same way, invading spaces that weren’t hers, refusing to fade. Even here. Even in what had once been my bed.

I stood there, surrounded by his daily bouquets, and understood the message clearly.

He wasn’t trying to come back.

He was trying to feel forgiven.

Too bad I'd already made my decision.

I stared at the new bouquet for a long moment, then rolled out of bed and showered.

Jasper passed me in the hallway later, already dressed, phone pressed to his ear. He nodded once. Polite. Distant. Like we were coworkers sharing a space, not a married couple with a shared life and two children who refused to leave my side.

Ella followed me into the kitchen. Owen trailed behind, rubbing his eyes, still pale, still clingy. Jasper noticed. I saw it in the way his gaze flicked toward them, then away, like he didn’t know what to do with the fact that they weren’t gravitating toward him anymore.

Chloe wasn’t there. The first good news of the week. I had to bear her presence and her dramas all week, fake tears, fake attempts to build a bridge toward the children, and countless attempts to make treats toward me.

Not that she could ever scare me. She wouldn't stand a chance with Kara.

I busied myself packing lunches. I didn't want to talk to him as much as he didn't want to talk to me. there was no point pretending otherwise.

I even skipped my morning coffee before hurrying the kids out of my new version of hell, couldn't even breathe inside my own home anymore.

I dropped them off, kissed their heads, watched them walk inside blowing me one last kiss before stepping inside the building.

Only when I was alone again did I let myself breathe and I didn’t hesitate this time.

No staring at the screen. No second-guessing. I already knew what I was asking for—I just needed confirmation.

Me - Are the papers ready?

Me - And tell me honestly—custody. Will I get them?

The reply came while I was still holding the phone.

Martha - Yes.

Martha - And yes. Based on what you’ve given me, you’re in a very strong position.

I leaned back against the counter, the cool marble grounding me.

My college roommate. The woman who used to steal my hoodies and stay up late quizzing me before exams. The one who had told me, once, half-joking, half-serious, that if I ever married a man who didn’t deserve me, she’d personally draft the divorce papers.

She was a lawyer now. Family law. Based in the city. And she didn't even bat an eyelid when I told her what was going on under my roof, well at least the human version of it.

Martha called a second later.

“I’ll walk you through it again,” she said, all business. The same voice she used in court, I imagined. Calm. Precise. “Six years of documented care. Medical records under your name. School enrollment, emergency contacts, routines. You’re their primary parent in every way that matters.”

I closed my eyes.

“She’s their biological mother,” I said.

“That doesn’t outweigh abandonment,” She replied immediately. No hesitation. “Especially not when there’s evidence of neglect and endangerment.”

Owen’s hospital bracelet was still on the passenger seat.

I curled my fingers around it.

“And him?” I asked. “He’s their father after all.”

“Yes,” she said carefully. “Which means he’ll get visitation. But custody?” She paused, just long enough to be honest. “That’s yours to lose, not his to win.”

Relief spread through me slowly, cautiously. I didn’t trust it yet.

“We’ll file publicly,” Martha continued. “No sealed proceedings. No quiet settlements. Visibility protects you. It makes backpedaling harder.”

I pictured the council. The way they handled problems. The way inconvenient women too often disappeared into silence.

Human law didn’t work that way.

“I agree,” I said.

“Good. One more thing,” she added. “His recent behavior, the hospital papers and having his mistress under your roof, help establish instability during separation. It strengthens your case.”

After we hung up, I stood there for a long moment, phone resting loosely in my hand.

Kara stirred.

'Public' she said, tasting the word. Not pleased. Not angry. Thoughtful. 'They won’t like that.'

“No,” I agreed silently. “They won’t.”

'They’ll try to bury it.'

“Not in the human world.”

She considered that.

'Being passed as a human will turn into our favour this time too'

I exhaled slowly. She was right, as always. The Goddess gave me a curse, but the wisest wolf too.

This shitty pack, with their rules and their convenient blindness—it had all worked in my favor without them realizing it.

When I got home, I sat at the kitchen table, phone still in my hand, staring at nothing.

Then my screen lit up.

Instagram.

I hadn’t opened it in days. Maybe longer. It felt like another lifetime—another woman—who cared about curated happiness and soft-focus photos.

The first thing I saw was Jasper.

Black tux. Sharp lines. Confident smile.

And Chloe on his arm.

She was wearing a gown I recognized instantly. That was the gown Jasper bought me for last year's Christmas party. For f**k sakè wasn't stealing my life enough? even my clothes?

The picture was of yesterday but comments were already feral.

Isn’t he married??

Who’s the woman?

That’s not his wife…

Yikes.

I scrolled.

Articles followed. Low-tier gossip sites at first, then larger outlets. Words like alleged, sources say, seen attending as a couple.

Mistress.

Infidelity.

Scandal.

I felt my mouth curve upward before I could stop it.

Just a little.

Because now—now—he’d done it himself.

No pack cover. No quiet rearranging of fate behind closed doors. No pretending this was temporary or misunderstood.

He’d let the human world see her on his arm.

Good.

I kept scrolling until I found the post that made my chest tighten.

A side-by-side.

On the left: an old photo of me and Jasper at a charity gala. Smiling. Polished. Safe. Wife.

On the right: Jasper and Chloe. New. Intimate. Reckless and pathetic.

The headline was bold, cruel in its simplicity.

FROM POWER COUPLE TO REPLACEMENT?

This one would travel.

This one wouldn’t stay in gossip circles.

This one would reach people who knew how to read between lines. People who understood power and blood and lineage.

My brother would see it.

My pack would see it.

They would know exactly where to find me.

I stared at the screen for a long time.

Kara stirred, not angry. Not panicked.

So be it.