Sebastian’s pov
The color drained from my mother’s face as if she’d just witnessed a car crash in slow motion.
Neither option appealed to her. That much was obvious.
"I’m giving you ten minutes to decide," I said evenly, my tone almost gentle--the kind of voice you hear right before a legal clause kicks in.
*Finally making a stand*, my wolf growled within . *She thinks she can keep pushing us away from our mate.*
"If you can’t reach a decision by then, I’ll be happy to make one on your behalf."
"You’re forcing my hand!" my mother snapped, anger flaring in her eyes. "I refuse to choose!"
I leaned back, calm as ever. "Mother, let’s not rewrite history. When I expressed concerns about Amara returning to Denver, you personally reassured . You said she wasn’t here to start trouble, that she wouldn’t interfere with my relationship, and that everything had been mutually agreed upon. I respected that. I stepped back. Correct?"
"...Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible.
"Good. I extended trust. Respect. But I also gave a clear warning: if she crossed a line, there would be consequences. You didn’t raise any objections then. That was our understanding."
Her eyes widened. "I never agreed to such terms--"
"Please don’t," I said, pulling out my phone. "Let’s not play the denial ga."
I tapped the screen and played the voice recording--our conversation in the upstairs garden.
Her exact words, her tone, her promises.
She froze, lips parted in shock.
From across the table, I watched Amara glance at my father, eyes wide with silent desperation.
Dad didn’t move. Just shook his head once, subtly. ssage received.
I clicked off the recording.
She was starting to understand why I’d been so accommodating that day--why I’d let her have her way without a fight.
It hadn’t been surrender. It had been set up.
"The Black family has always valued fairness and accountability," I said, my voice cool and deliberate.
"I’ve delivered both. Now it’s your turn."
I checked my watch. "You’ve got six minutes left."
My mother sat frozen, as if every nerve in her body were bracing for impact.
Dad, feeling her unravel, made an effort to de-escalate.
"Sebastian, maybe we revisit this after your trip? A day or two--just to cool things down?"
"No." I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.
I glanced at my watch again. "Five minutes remaining."
Dad exhaled and pivoted. He turned gently to mom.
"Why don’t we invite Miss Moore for dinner? You could et her yourself. She seems like a remarkable young woman."
"Uncle Yardley!" Amara gasped, horrified. Her voice cracked like glass under pressure.
I tapped my watch again, rhythmically. "Three minutes..."
The silence in the room had a pulse now.
My mother’s mind was racing--I could see it in her eyes.
She was balancing pride, family reputation, and the realization that I wasn’t bluffing.
Just as I opened my mouth to declare ti’s up, she spoke.
"Amara will leave Denver," she said, voice clipped but clear.
*Victory*, my wolf rumbled inside , his satisfaction palpable.
Amara’s eyes welled with tears. "Aunt Regina..."
My mother looked utterly defeated.
Truth was, if she hadn’t chosen, I would’ve brought Cecilia ho anyway--and let the fallout unfold in front of her dinner plates.
She knew that now. Knew this was exactly how I’d drawn it up.
"Good," I said, with a brief nod.
I turned to Amara, my expression unreadable.
"Liam will deliver your things. Be out by tomorrow."
Then I shifted my gaze back to my mother.
"If not, that would an you’ve gone back on your word--which reflects on your values, not mine.
And I’ll respond accordingly."
Mother sat rigid, lips drawn tight, anger simring but leashed.
I picked up my fork.
"The food’s getting cold. Let’s eat."
Mother didn’t touch her plate. Her appetite was gone.
Amara sat in silence, misery settling over her like a weighted blanket.
She stared at , eyes raw, hoping for so flicker of rcy.
When it didn’t co, she stood abruptly and left the room.
I had co ho for dinner. And dinner was exactly what I intended to have.
Once finished, I rose, said nothing more, and headed out.
In the car, the city lights blurred past the window.
I leaned back in my seat, watching the night fold in on itself.
Then my phone rang.
I glanced at the screen, frowning slightly before answering.
"Sebastian here."
A pause.
"...What?"
Cecilia’s pov
In Harper’s apartnt, I’d made dinner, watered the nearly dead roses on the balcony, and tidied up the living room.
"Well, well, what fairy godmother has blessed my ho?" Harper muttered as she dragged herself through the door, looking like she’d just survived a week-long audit.
Her face lit up when she saw the al and the clean coffee table--a flicker of joy she clearly hadn’t expected to find in her own apartnt.
I smiled. "Wash your hands. Food’s ready."
Harper had been running around all day like her to-do list had grown teeth.
She dove into the food, clearly starving, but her eyes kept flicking toward .
"Okay, spill. Trouble in paradise with your Alpha?"
"What could we possibly fight about? The man is..." I sighed. "Perfect. I can’t find a single flaw."
Harper raised a brow. "So... you’re spiraling because he’s flawless? You’re scared of how good it is. You don’t trust it. You want to bolt, but you can’t seem to unhook yourself."
I didn’t respond right away.
Then I said, quietly, "His parents don’t approve either."
That one word--"either"--hit like a brick.
Harper stopped chewing.
She didn’t need context. That word carried decades of emotional shorthand.
She moved beside and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
"It’s okay," she said gently. "Walk together for as long as the road lasts. If it breaks off..."
She hesitated, then added, "We’ll reroute. That’s what GPS is for. But don’t assu it’s over before it even starts. Maybe he’ll fight for you."
"Harper," I interrupted, my voice low but steady. "I don’t want him to fight for ."
I wasn’t being dramatic. I was being honest.
He’d already given enough.
And so battles--you’re ant to face alone.
Harper stared at for a mont, like she was trying to decide whether to argue or accept it.
Eventually, she sighed. "Cece, you can’t control this man. If you don’t follow his lead, he’ll just reroute you without asking. You’re playing checkers, and he’s out here playing chess with extra queens."
I slumped. She wasn’t wrong.
Harper opened her mouth to say sothing else when the doorbell rang--twice.
She glanced toward the entryway.
"I will bet a thousand bucks that’s Sebastian. Any takers?"
I swatted her arm.
"Money-grubber."
I got up to answer it.
Maybe because of her comnt, I didn’t even check the peephole before swinging the door open.
The mont I saw who was standing there, my smile flatlined.
My stomach dropped like an elevator with no brakes.
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