Claimed after divorce by my brother’s best friend

CH 5 - Aria

ARIA POV

Owen shifted on my hip, his arms tightening instinctively around my neck. He was still weak, still tired, but the hold was possessive in the way only children could manage—like letting go might mean being taken away forever. I adjusted him higher, careful not to jostle him, one hand firm against his back.

Ella’s fingers curled deeper into mine. Her small body angled closer, shoulder brushing my thigh, as if she could shield me by proximity alone. She’d been doing that more often lately—placing herself between me and whatever she sensed as a threat. She shouldn’t have to learn that instinct this young. Even if she was an alpha herself, like me.

Across the room, Jasper still hadn’t let go of Chloe’s hand.

I watched it happen in real time. Not dramatically. Not emotionally. No sudden tightening of fingers or meaningful looks exchanged. He simply… didn’t release her. As if disentangling himself hadn’t even occurred to him.

That hurt more than if he’d ripped his hand away and shouted.

At least shouting would have acknowledged me.

I took a step forward.

The movement was enough for them to finally notice I was there. A flick of something, maybe shame, crossed Jasper's eyes, justa fraction, then was gone, replace by his stone face, the one he'd never given to me before. The one that gave him the nickname "icy boss" between his human employees.

“I’m sorry to interrupt this reunion,” I said calmly. My voice didn’t shake. It came out level, even, as if I were commenting on the weather. There was no point in adding drama, and sure as hell I wasn't going to show anyone how affected I was by this “I just wanted to let you know that Owen is stable and has been released. As you can see.”

I lifted Owen slightly, just enough to make the point.

As if you all would care, a bitter thought tried to surface, but I pushed it down. Not here. Not now. Not in front of my children.

Anastasia turned toward me, her expression tightening for the briefest moment before smoothing back into polite concern. She had perfected that look over decades—the one that made disapproval feel like kindness.

“I’m relieved Owen is better,” she said warmly. “We were very worried.” Just then I realized her husband was there too. Sitting on our sofa. sipping bourbon.

Her eyes flicked briefly to the faint mark where the oxygen tubing had rested against his skin. Then they moved to Jasper, lingering there just a second too long.

“We came as soon as we heard.”

Sure.

Chloe finally looked uncomfortable. Just a fraction. Her grip on Jasper’s hand loosened slightly, like she’d remembered optics mattered. She didn’t let go, though.

I didn’t look at her.

My eyes stayed on Jasper.

“Can we talk?” I asked.

He hesitated. It was subtle, but I caught it. The delay before he nodded. “About what?”

About everything.

About the fact that our son had nearly died today. About the way he’d blamed me without a second thought. About the way he’d stepped in front of Chloe like she was fragile glass and I was something sharp and dangerous.

Instead, I said, “About what happens next.”

Silence stretched across the room.

Anastasia’s smile thinned. “Aria,” she said gently, the way people spoke to someone they’d already decided was being difficult, “this really isn’t the moment—”

“It is,” I replied.

I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t even look at her. My gaze stayed locked on Jasper.

He glanced at his father. Then at his mother. Then at Chloe.

He didn’t answer.

That silence told me more than any confession could have.

Anastasia’s brows lifted, irritation finally slipping through her composed exterior. “You’re being unreasonable.”

“I’m being human,” I spat. “Our son had an allergic reaction severe enough to land him in the hospital. I warned her. I left instructions. This isn’t personal—it’s about safety.”

Chloe’s lower lip trembled on cue. “He isn't your child! And I already said I was sorry. I never meant—”

“That’s enough,” Jasper said sharply, cutting her off.

For one brief, foolish second, something hopeful stirred in my chest. A reflex. Muscle memory. The part of me that still wanted to believe he could step back into the space he’d abandoned.

Then he turned to me.

“This is too much Aria,” he said. “Everyone’s exhausted. Emotions are high. You’re turning this into something it doesn’t need to be. There's nothing to talk about.”

I stared at him.

This was what he chose to say.

“Is she staying?” I asked again. Because I needed him to say it. I needed to hear it with my own ears. I needed to see with my very own eyes that he was willing to let the woman that abandoned not just him, but his kids too, six years ago, crash back into their lives. If he was really putting his shattered, destroyed, mate bond before his kids. He'd already put her before me, but his children deserved more. They deserved a mother that wouldn't give them peanut butter saying it would be fine, a mother that would not stop them from playing soccer because of their gender.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “She doesn’t have anywhere else right now.”

That wasn’t an answer.

That was a lie dressed up as circumstance.

“If she stays,” I said, my voice steady despite the way my heart was pounding against my ribs, “then I’ll leave.”

Ella gasped.

Her grip on my hand tightened painfully, nails pressing into my skin.

“No,” she said immediately, stepping closer to me. “I’m not staying without you.”

Jasper’s head snapped up. “Ella—”

“I don’t want her here,” she said, louder now. Her voice shook, but she didn’t back down. “She scares me.”

Owen lifted his head weakly from my shoulder. His brows knit together, confusion giving way to something sadder. “Me too,” he murmured.

The room froze.

Anastasia opened her mouth, then closed it again. She hadn’t expected that.

Jasper looked stunned. Embarrassed. Cornered.

Chloe swayed slightly, one hand drifting to her chest.

“I feel dizzy,” she whispered. “I—I think I need to sit down.”

Jasper moved immediately, guiding her to the couch, his hand firm on her back. “Sit. You shouldn’t push yourself.”

Alpha Marcus finally spoke.

“Jasper,” he said quietly. “Perhaps you should take her to be checked. Just to be safe.”

There it was.

Permission.

Jasper nodded at once. “Yes. That’s a good idea.”

He didn’t look at me when he said it.

“I’ll take her,” he added.

Of course he would.

I stayed where I was. Owen’s weight grounded me, his breath warm against my neck. Ella pressed tight against my side, her body a silent declaration of allegiance.

Chloe glanced at me as Jasper helped her up. Her eyes flicked briefly to the children, then dropped away.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

I didn’t answer.

Jasper paused near the door.

For half a second, it looked like he might turn back. Like he might remember there were other people in the room whose lives he was about to upend.

He didn’t.

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

The sound echoed through the apartment, breaking the last hope I still, foolishly had.

Anastasia stood slowly, smoothing her skirt. “This has been… an emotional day. We should all rest.”

She approached the children, her tone shifting into something saccharine. “Ella, dear—”

Ella stepped closer to me.

“No,” she said simply.

Anastasia stiffened, clearly unused to being refused.

Alpha Marcus watched the exchange silently, his gaze sharp and calculating. He didn’t intervene. He didn’t correct her. He simply observed, already measuring consequences.

“I’ll take the children to bed,” I said.

No one stopped me.

In the quiet of the hallway, Kara stirred fully. Not furious. Not snarling. Solid. Cold.

This is over, she said.

I leaned my forehead against the doorframe of my kid's room for a moment, eyes closed, breathing in the familiar scent of my children’s shampoo, the house, the life I had built piece by piece with my own hands.

“Yes,” I answered silently. “It is.”

Divorce.

Not tomorrow.

Not after explanations.

Not after apologies that would never come.

Now.

I tucked Ella into bed first. She turned onto her side immediately, curling toward me even in sleep, her hand searching until it found my wrist. Owen followed soon after, heavier with exhaustion, his fingers clinging to my shirt like an anchor as I settled him beside his sister.

I stayed there until their breathing evened out.

Until the room felt safe again.

Only then did I straighten.

Standing alone in the hallway, I realized something with a clarity that stunned me.

I wasn’t afraid anymore.

Not of Jasper.

Not of Chloe.

Not of what the pack would say.

What frightened me was the idea of leaving my children here for even one more moment, in a house where I no longer had a voice, where choices were made without me, where love had been quietly replaced by obligation and fate and convenience.

I would not beg.

I would not negotiate.

I would not wait to be discarded.

If they believed I could be erased so easily, they had made a catastrophic mistake.

I didn’t need permission.

I needed a plan.

And this time, I would make sure my children were never the price I paid for someone else’s choices.