Chapter 159
Ethan’s POV
The thought was there and gone, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
*No. That bridge is burned p>
“The company’s at a critical stage p>
“I mean after the listing!” Margaret cut me off, her voice softening. She pulled me closer, her eyes pleading.
“Ethan, listen to me. You will never be happy with Clara. She can’t even raise your son properly. If you leave the company to her, she’ll destroy everything. The Pack, the legacy, your future p>
“Mom p>
“Look at what she’s done to Marcus. He’s turning into a monster. No discipline, no respect. He flinches at his own grandmother p>
I thought of Marcus, running through the halls with his toy gun, ignoring everything I told him.
I thought of how Aria had tried to correct him, how I’d defended him, told her he was too young for discipline.
She’d been right. She was always right.
When I pushed open the door to Clara’s room, a foam dart smacked me square in the forehead.
Marcus was tearing around with a toy pistol, firing at everything.
“Marcus!” Clara pried it from his hands. “You don’t point that at people. You hit your father. Apologize p>
But the second he saw me, his whole face lit up. He dropped the gun and barreled over. “Daddy! Sorry p>
I crouched to his level and really looked at him. And for the first time, I didn’t ruffle his hair or scoop him up like I always did.
Because I was hearing Aria’s voice. Something she’d told me, long ago.
“A child’s temperament comes from the adults around him—but nurture can still change what nature starts. Sometimes being firm with him isn’t cruelty. It’s necessary p>
Marcus had been defiant ever since Aria came into his life. She’d been patient, gentle, reasoning with him—and he’d never once yielded.
When I’d caught her disciplining him properly, I’d undermined her. He’s just a boy, I’d said.
Now I understood. She’d been right the whole time.
A child’s temperament comes from the adults around him. Marcus was stubborn like me, dismissive of every rule like Clara.
I took his small hand and made my voice hard. “Marcus. Did Daddy tell you—no guns in the house? No pointing them at people p>
His face fell. “A lot p>
“And you keep doing it. Why p>
He squirmed, trying to pull back, but I held his wrist firmly.
“Rules exist for a reason. If you break them, there are consequences p>
He looked at Clara, begging for rescue. She stepped forward, her voice light. “Okay, okay, just promise Daddy you won’t do it again. Let’s go get ready for bed p>
She reached for his hand.
“Stop.” I didn’t let go. “You keep doing this. You keep covering for him, making excuses. That’s why he doesn’t listen. That’s why he thinks he can do whatever he wants p>
“Ethan, he’s just a child p>
“Exactly. He’s a child. And children need discipline p>
With Marcus still in my grip, I turned him over my knee and brought my hand down on his backside.
The sound echoed through the room.
Marcus screamed.
“Daddy! No! Mommy! MOMMY p>
He cried like I’d never heard him cry before. Real tears, real fear. His small body shook under my hand, and every instinct told me to stop, to hold him, to tell him I was sorry.
But I kept going.
Because this was what he needed. What I needed. What Aria had tried to teach me.
Clara lost it.
She grabbed me from behind, her nails digging into my arms. “Stop it! What’s wrong with you? It’s just a toy—you’re going to kill him p>
I let go.
Marcus collapsed into Clara’s arms, sobbing. She held him like he was her whole world, whispering comfort, stroking his hair.
I watched them, feeling nothing but exhaustion.
Mom was right. How could a woman like this ever raise him well? With Aria, he might have had a chance.
I yanked off my tie and walked to the bathroom, turning the shower to its coldest setting.
The water hit my skin like needles, and I stayed under it until I was shivering, until I couldn’t feel anything but cold.
When I came out, Clara was waiting on the couch, Marcus already handed off to a servant for bed. The anger hadn’t left her face. I didn’t have it in me to talk. I changed and moved to leave.
“You’re not staying?” She shot up, grabbed my arm.
“I have a meeting in the morning,” I said, cold. “Better I go back and rest p>
“You’ve been freezing me out for days. If you’re still angry, say it to my face. Don’t stonewall me—and don’t use our son as an excuse to lash out p>
That did it. “An excuse?” I turned and looked at her.
“Marcus has no discipline because of you. My mother’s sick in bed because of you. This whole house is falling apart. So am I inventing problems, or are you the one who’s rotten underneath p>
Her lips parted, disbelieving. “Ethan. Do you have any conscience left, saying that to me p>
She’d carried my child. Endured years of the pack’s scorn. Finally clawed out a sliver of standing here—and I was laying it all at her feet.
“I’m done. My head’s killing me.” I pressed my fingers between my brows. I didn’t want to fight tonight.
But she wouldn’t let go. “You are not leaving. If you walk out that door, tomorrow I take Marcus and go p>
“Don’t do this p>
“Fine.Then I’ll go to your father. I’ll tell him everything. I’ll tell him how you treat me, how you hit our son p>
“*Hit* him?” My eyes narrowed. “I disciplined him. There’s a difference p>
“There’s no difference to me p>
She was shaking, her eyes wild, like a cornered animal. And for a moment, I saw it—the desperation beneath the anger. The fear that she was losing control.
Maybe I should have felt sympathy.
I felt nothing.
“If you go to my father, you’ll only make things worse for yourself p>
“Is that a threat p>
“It’s a fact p>
We stood there, frozen, the air between us thick with everything unsaid.
Finally, I sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay p>
I didn’t touch her. I grabbed a blanket from the closet, spread it on the couch, and lay down with my back to her.
I heard her footsteps stop at the bedroom doorway. Heard her voice, small and hurt.
“You’re really going to sleep out here p>
I didn’t answer.
The bedroom door slammed.
I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my head throbbing.
Sweat drenched my forehead. My muscles ached. I felt like I was burning from the inside out.
I tried to call out, but my voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.
“Aria p>
The name slipped out before I could stop it.
*What have I done p>
I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I let myself remember.
Her smile. Her laugh. The way she looked at me like I was the center of her world.
I’d thrown it all away.
For what? A woman who threatened me. A son I barely knew how to love. A legacy I was watching crumble.
*Maybe Mother is right p>
*Maybe some choices can’t be undone p>
*But that doesn’t mean I have to keep making the same mistakes p>
The moonlight streamed through the window, cold and indifferent.
And for the first time in ten years, I let myself wonder:
*What if I had chosen differently p>