Chapter 302 Nobody Folds Their Only Card
Sebastian’s POV
By the time I pieced together the full story between Claudine Tucker and my parents, I’d stopped being surprised by anything.
The version Claudine peddled and the version I knew didn’t match. In her telling, my mom had stolen my father out from under her, betrayed her, ruined her life. But I grew up watching my parents. They were fated mates, bonded down to the bone.
Whatever happened thirty years ago, it wasn’t the ugly little soap opera Claudine liked to narrate.
She was a woman who’d cast herself as the victim and nursed the role for three decades. People like that never let the truth get in the way of a good grudge.
"She’s the type who’d burn the whole forest down and call it justice," Ryder muttered at the back of my skull.
He wasn’t wrong.
So I made a call, and I asked Abigail Tanner to meet me.
She was, after all, Claudine’s sharpest piece on the board, the one weapon aimed straight at the softest part of me.
Once upon a time, sitting across a table from Abigail would have gutted me. Now I felt nothing. Not a flicker. Just the mild curiosity you’d give a stain on the carpet.
She showed up right on time, to the elegant place I’d picked, and I’d already ordered every dish she used to love. She barely touched them. Our last screaming match had left a mark on her, apparently.
"Is there something you need from me?" she asked.
"Did you hand Claudine the evidence?" I said. "The evidence that my parents harmed hers."
Her eyes flickered. "She worked hard to dig those up."
"Weren’t you the one who swore up and down you’d let the whole thing go?"
"That was when you still wanted me, Sebastian." She lifted her chin. "Do you? Still want me? Will you still choose me?"
"So that’s it." I leaned back. "You’ve thrown in with Claudine to go after the Silver Moon Pack."
She said nothing.
I gave a short laugh and picked up my fork. "Eat your food."
"Why don’t you just divorce Emilia?" she pressed. "Divorce her, and even if you never marry me, I’ll keep the evidence buried. I swear it."
I set down my glass and stood. "Sorry. You can marry whenever you like, whoever you like. But divorcing Emilia isn’t on the menu. If you want to hand that evidence over, go right ahead."
I walked to the counter, paid, and left without looking back. I could hear her start to cry behind me.
It was past ten when I got home, later than I’d walked through that door in a long while. Emilia was curled on the sofa, waiting.
"There he is." She stretched, catlike. "I’ve been sitting here so long I nearly grew roots. Another hour and you’d have found a very cranky wife."
I sank down beside her and pulled her into me. "Sorry," I said, voice rough. "Something came up tonight."
"Let me guess." She wriggled free, tapped a finger to her lips, and made a show of thinking. "You went to see Abigail."
I blinked. "How—"
"Not done yet." She snapped her fingers. "You asked her about the evidence against your parents. She threatened you. Told you to divorce me, and if you did, she’d bury it. How am I doing?"
I stared at her. For half a second I genuinely wondered if she’d tailed me to the restaurant, or slipped a tracker into my coat.
"How could you possibly know that?"
She laughed, but there was a bitter edge under it. "Because somebody ran the exact same play on me last night. Divorce Sebastian, and the evidence against his parents goes up in smoke."
My whole body went still. "Who?"
"Claudine Tucker."
She sighed and drew her knees up. "Feels like half this city is lining up to pry us apart. So. What’s the plan, husband?"
Fire climbed up the back of my throat. I forced a hand over Emilia’s and squeezed.
"Don’t waste another thought on them," I said. "Claudine thinks she can take down my pack and my company single-handed. She’s flattering herself."
"Should we tell your parents?"
"Not yet. Let me handle it first."
"And if she takes the evidence to the Council? Or worse, straight to the media?"
I snorted. "She won’t. Not yet."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because it’s the only card she’s holding." I met her eyes. "Nobody folds their only card that early in the game."
Emilia nodded slowly, weighing it, and apparently deciding I had a point. We stayed like that a while, her head against my shoulder, both of us listening to the quiet.
Then she said, too casually, "Oh, by the way. My mother wants to take me away for a few days next week. Little trip. You know how it is."
She held her breath after she said it, bracing for me to answer.
My body tensed for exactly one heartbeat. Then I nodded, slow and deliberate. "Sure. Go."
"You’re not going to fight me on it?"
She jerked upright, genuinely thrown.
"Why would I?" I said mildly. "A trip’s a good thing. You’ve been wound tight lately. Go clear your head."
That seemed to settle her. She looped her arms around my neck and let out a breath.
"Thanks, my love," she murmured against my ear.