Chapter 3: Chapter 3 Now it was his turn
Aria’s POV
I woke to the smell of pancakes and coffee.
For a moment, still half-asleep, it felt almost normal. Then I heard Clara’s laugh drifting up from the kitchen, and reality came crashing back.
I took my time getting dressed. Let them have their little domestic fantasy.
I could afford to be patient. After all, I was a billionaire now. And their client.
By the time I came downstairs, a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon sat waiting on the counter—the kind of gesture meant to look like an apology. I reached for it.
Marcus lunged forward and yanked it away, the plate clattering against the marble. "No! This is for Clara! Daddy made it special for her!"
Clara hurried over, hands fluttering. "Marcus, sweetie, that’s not how we treat people. Apologize to Aria." Her words were honey. Her eyes, locked on mine, were pure triumph.
Ethan appeared in the doorway. "Marcus. Apologize. Now."
The boy shuffled toward me, not meeting my eyes. "Sorry," he muttered.
I didn’t accept it.
I stood, crossed the room, grabbed him, and pressed him against the wall. I took a thin branch from the nearby vase and brought it down hard on his backside.
He burst into tears.
"Aria, that’s too much." Clara stepped forward. "He already apologized—"
"Funny," I said, landing another strike. "By what right do you interfere with a mother disciplining her misbehaving child?"
Clara’s face went white. Her nails dug into her palms. "He’s still young... he didn’t do anything that wrong..."
"Small mistakes uncorrected become big ones," I replied. "If I don’t discipline him now, I’ll have a harder time later."
That shut her up.
Ethan stepped forward and caught my wrist. "That’s enough."
He was right. The anger had cooled. I tossed the branch to the floor. Marcus scrambled behind Clara, sobbing too hard to even glare at me.
Clara bit her tongue and patted his back in silence.
"Marcus." I fixed my gaze on him. "As long as I’m your mother, you will show me respect. If you can’t learn that, I’ll adopt a better child to be the pack’s rightful heir."
The room went quiet. Even Marcus stopped crying. I was smiling when I said it.
"Aria, don’t—" Ethan’s voice tightened.
"Don’t what?" I turned to him, sweetly.
"Since I accepted adopting one child with no blood relation to me, I can certainly adopt a second. As long as you want me to stay with this pack, don’t try to provoke me."
Looking at the three faces in front of me, all dark as thunder, I cheerfully picked up my purse. "Enjoy your breakfast. All of you."
---
I was halfway to my car when footsteps followed.
"Aria, wait." Ethan’s tone was stern. "I said wait."
I turned slowly. "Was there something else?"
He caught up, slightly breathless, hair disheveled. "I’ll drive you to the office. We can go over the Riverside contract on the way."
"I’m not going to the office."
"What? We have the meeting with—"
"Reschedule it." I pulled open the car door. "I have other plans."
"What other plans?"
"I’m going to look at a house."
I closed the door and started the engine. In the rearview mirror, he stood in the driveway, fists clenched at his sides.
---
The Meridian Tower was everything the listing had promised and more. Floor-to-ceiling windows, soaring ceilings, and most importantly, it was mine.
Now I just needed furniture.
The furniture district catered to Pack elite—somewhere I’d never shopped before. Too expensive for someone like me.
Now, walking through the gleaming showrooms, I felt like a kid in a candy store.
I wandered through displays of silk cushions and polished wood, mentally decorating my new space. Modern but warm. Nothing like the cold aesthetic Ethan preferred.
That was when I saw it.
A sofa in deep charcoal leather sat center stage. The tag read "Russo Collection - Limited Edition. 1 of 3."
Perfect.
I was reaching for my phone when a voice cut through the air behind me.
"Excuse me, but I’m taking this one."
I turned to find a woman about my age standing there, arms crossed, looking at me like I was something unpleasant she’d found on the bottom of her designer shoe.
She was dressed head to toe in labels I recognized from fashion magazines.
Her blonde hair was styled in perfect waves, her makeup flawless. Everything about her screamed money and privilege.
"I’m sorry?" I said politely.
"The sofa." She gestured impatiently. "I saw it first. So you’ll have to find something else."
I blinked. "I don’t think that’s how shopping works."
Her perfectly glossed lips thinned. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Should I?"
A flush crept up her neck. "I’m Vanessa Crane. My father is Alpha Richard Crane of the Riverside Pack. And when I say I want something, I get it."
Riverside Pack. Wealthy enough, but nowhere near Crescent Moon’s weight class.
"That’s nice," I said, turning back to the sofa. "I’m still buying it."
Vanessa’s face flushed scarlet. She snapped her fingers. Two large men in black suits materialized from behind the displays. "This woman is harassing me. Escort her out."
They moved toward me. I tensed—ready to fight back.
"I wouldn’t do that if I were you."
The voice came from the entrance—deep, cultured, carrying the kind of authority that made everyone freeze.
A silver-haired man in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit strode in, flanked by six men in dark suits.
He moved like someone who had wielded power for decades and never once had to raise his voice.
Vanessa’s guards stepped back instantly. Her face drained of color.
"Beta Harrison," she stammered. "I didn’t know you were—"
"Clearly." He didn’t look at her. His attention was fixed entirely on me. He stopped and inclined his head in something close to a bow.
"Miss Smith. It’s an honor to finally meet you."
The showroom went silent.
"I’m Harrison Reid, Beta of Crescent Moon Pack. Your uncle Victor sent me to find you."
"Wait." Vanessa’s voice came out strangled. "Smith? As in—Vincent Smith?"
Harrison finally turned to her, and there was nothing warm in it. "Miss Crane. I believe you were just threatening my Boss’s daughter and sole heir. Would you like to rephrase your earlier comments?"
Vanessa went from pale to gray. "I didn’t—she didn’t say—I had no idea—"
"Ignorance is not an excuse for disrespect." His voice could have cut glass. "Particularly when you were having her physically removed from the premises."
She turned to me, all earlier arrogance dissolved. "I’m so sorry. If I had known—"
"You would have been polite?" I said. "How nice. Unfortunately, basic decency shouldn’t require a family pedigree."
Her face crumpled. "Please—if there’s anything I can do to make this right—"
I studied her for a moment. Making enemies right now would be stupid. "An apology is enough. You can go."
She didn’t need to be told twice. She practically fled, her guards scrambling after her.
I turned to the sales associate hovering nearby. "I’ll take the sofa. Please have it delivered to the Meridian Tower, penthouse floor." I paused. "And the matching armchair."
Then I turned back to Harrison. "Quite an entrance."
"Word will spread quickly," he said, not sounding remotely sorry. "But it was necessary. Aria Smith is not to be trifled with. It will save you considerable trouble down the line."
He gestured toward the exit. "The car is waiting, Miss Smith. Shall we?"
"Where are we going?"
"Crescent Moon Pack house." A slight smile. "Your home."
I was silent for a moment. Vincent was my biological father.
A billion-dollar inheritance had landed in my lap. Going to Crescent Moon was inevitable—and honestly, I had no reason to avoid it.
"Alright," I said. "If it’s my home, I should at least see it for myself."
What was meant to come would come eventually.
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