Chapter 142: Chapter 142 The arriage ruth exposed
Author’s POV
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Holt estate as tension crackled through the air like static electricity.
"This tea is all wrong! Margaret, can’t your staff follow simple instructions? Or are you deliberately trying to drive me away?" Rose Holt’s voice rang sharp through the sitting room.
Margaret rushed forward, her carefully maintained composure cracking. "Rose, you know I would never—I’ll have them prepare fresh tea immediately!"
Ever since Rose had moved into the main house, Margaret had been walking on eggshells. The former Luna had exacting standards—her tea had to be premium Silver Needle white tea, brewed at precisely 175 degrees. Any deviation resulted in complaints.
And it wasn’t just the tea. Every meal, every arrangement, every small detail became an opportunity for criticism.
*How did I never notice how impossible she is to please?* Margaret thought, gesturing frantically at the staff.
"If Aria were here, this wouldn’t happen," Rose muttered, just loud enough for Margaret to hear. "That girl always knew exactly how I liked things."
Margaret’s jaw tightened. She’d been busting her ass trying to keep Rose comfortable, and the old woman was pining for Aria?
Though she had to admit—grudgingly—that Aria had been exceptionally attentive. The staff had mentioned how Aria would give Rose foot massages before bed, diffuse lavender in her room, set alarms to prepare tea at exactly the right times.
*No wonder Rose always preferred staying at their place.*
"Has Aria contacted Ethan at all?" Rose asked, her tone carefully neutral as Margaret returned with fresh tea.
"How would I know?" Margaret’s voice carried an edge. "She’s the one who wanted the divorce. Probably waiting for Ethan to come crawling back and beg."
Margaret deliberately pushed that button, and Rose’s expression hardened immediately.
"Beg? Absolutely not." The former Luna’s lips pressed into a thin line. "If she wants to throw tantrums, fine. But we won’t indulge her every time."
Though privately, Rose wondered if maybe Ethan should swallow his pride. But after Aria’s demands for company shares and her blatant defiance, Rose couldn’t bring herself to advocate for reconciliation.
"You’re absolutely right," Margaret agreed, picking up an apple and starting to peel it. "If you and Ethan hadn’t spoiled her so much, she’d never dare act this way."
She continued, her knife moving in smooth, practiced strokes. "She needs to learn her lesson. Let her suffer a bit, realize we’re all perfectly fine without her. When she sees Ethan’s moved on, then she’ll come running back scared."
Rose said nothing, but she felt the small seed of sympathy she’d been nursing wither and die.
She sighed, glancing at the half-peeled apple in Margaret’s hands, expecting it to be for her. Instead, Margaret took a large bite.
"Oh!" Margaret startled, suddenly remembering her audience. "Rose, did you want some?"
Rose’s eyes narrowed. "If Aria were here, she’d know I prefer my apples sliced into small pieces. She never had to be told."
Margaret’s face flushed with embarrassment and irritation. *For fuck’s sake.* She forced a smile. "Of course, let me cut you some fresh."
By evening, when Gerald and Ethan returned home together, the atmosphere had shifted entirely.
With the first installment of funding from the V&A Group secured, multiple potential partners had started approaching Silver Creek.
While none matched the scale of Aria’s previous deals, collectively they could cover the Pack’s recent losses and potentially restart their expansion plans.
Both men were in high spirits.
Gerald even clapped Ethan on the shoulder—a rare gesture of approval. "You’ve worked hard. Once these projects close, the Pack’s yours to lead again."
Ethan’s face lit up, the clouds of recent weeks finally lifting. "Thank you, Dad."
"Remember this, son." Gerald’s voice dropped, heavy with meaning. "Your Pack, your family—these are your foundation. Not a woman."
The unspoken criticism of Aria hung between them. Gerald had always believed that Ethan’s problems stemmed from failing to properly control his mate.
In the Holt family, women knew their place. Even Rose, strong-willed as she was, had deferred to her mate in all things during her Luna years.
"I understand," Ethan said quietly, though his chest tightened thinking of Aria.
His father was right. How had he let himself become so wrapped up in her? His initial plan had been simple—use her abilities, keep her compliant, maintain control.
Somewhere along the way, he’d lost sight of that.
"Also," Gerald continued as they handed their coats to the staff, "you need to arrange a meeting with our V&A Group investor. "
"They’re staying anonymous for now, but we must show proper gratitude. We need to cement that relationship."
"Absolutely. There’s a jewelry auction next week—I was thinking of selecting an appropriate gift."
"Jewelry?" Gerald looked surprised, then nodded approvingly.
"Smart. Something rare and valuable. Don’t worry about the cost—spare no expense for the Smiths connection. This could change everything for us."
"Understood."
Ethan agreed outwardly, but his mind drifted to that day in the parking garage. The mysterious Smith heiress he’d glimpsed through tinted windows—elegant, powerful, untouchable.
*All women love jewelry. I’ll choose something perfect.*
They’d barely sat down to dinner when the doorbell began ringing. Insistent. Urgent.
Margaret frowned at the staff. "Are we expecting anyone?"
"No, Luna."
A servant hurried in, carrying a manila envelope. "There’s a woman outside—wearing a hat, face mostly covered. She insisted this be delivered to the Alpha immediately."
Ethan barely glanced up, still focused on his meal. People delivered documents to their house constantly—business proposals, contracts, networking attempts.
"It’s for you," Margaret said, passing the envelope to Gerald without much interest.
Gerald wasn’t planning to be disturbed during dinner, but his good mood made him lenient. He opened it casually.
Then his entire body went rigid.
Inside wasn’t a business proposal. It was a paper with two words emblazoned across the front: MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE.
Dread pooled in Gerald’s gut. He glanced at Ethan, then slowly opened the document further. Within seconds, he slammed his palm on the table hard enough to make dishes jump.
"That woman has lost her mind!"
"Dad, what—" Ethan started, already guessing what had happened.
Gerald’s hand cracked across his face before he could finish, the slap powerful enough to split Ethan’s lip, blood immediately welling at the corner of his mouth.
"Gerald!" Margaret shot up, alarmed—not by the certificate itself, but by what its arrival meant. "What did she send? Has she actually—"
Rose rose shakily, her face pale, utterly lost. "What is happening? What certificate? Have you all lost your minds?!"
"See for yourself!" Gerald hurled the marriage certificate onto the table.
Rose snatched it with trembling hands. The moment she saw the names and the photographs, her entire world tilted on its axis.
Clara Voss. Ethan Holt.
Married.
"Is this... is this real?" Rose’s voice came out strangled. "Ethan, you’re—you’re already married? To Clara?"
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