The Bride Widow
Chapter 122: Ch 122: Let’s talk - Part 1

Chapter 122: Ch 122: Let’s talk - Part 1

She had no idea how she reached back home. Anabella had no recollection how she managed to reach the bakery and open the door to get inside. But here she was- back in her bed.

Anabella lay in her small apartment, staring at the cracks in the ceiling as the soft hum of the streetlights outside seeped through her thin curtains. Her chest felt tight with guilt. Today had been too easy — too safe.

Clair and Noah had been kind—too kind. She hated feeling like she was taking advantage of them, using their warmth and generosity like a crutch. But what choice did she have? They offered what she couldn’t refuse—comfort, safety, belonging.

"I shouldn’t need them this much," she thought bitterly, pressing her cold hands against her flushed cheeks. "I’m being selfish."

But no matter how much she scolded herself, she couldn’t push away the memory of how seen she’d felt with them. Safe, even if only for a little while.

Stop thinking about it, she told herself firmly, tugging the blankets over her head. Sleep would come eventually—or so she hoped.

______

Meanwhile, across town, Noah and Clair sat in the dimly lit living room of their apartment, tension crackling in the air like a live wire.

"I’m going to kill him."

Clair paused mid-sip of her tea, arching a brow at Noah’s cold, quiet declaration. His dark eyes burned with a dangerous intensity she rarely saw, even on his worst days.

"Noah." Her voice was sharp but steady.

He leaned back, folding his arms. "I’m serious, Clair. Daniel Ross abandoned her like she was nothing. After everything she’s been through—" His hands clenched into fists. "He deserves to disappear."

Clair studied him carefully, knowing better than to dismiss the threat as an empty promise. Noah was usually composed, charming even—but when it came to Anabella, his protective instincts ran dangerously

"Noah..." she softened her tone, resting her hand gently on his. "I’d prefer your method too... but you know Anabella wouldn’t."

His jaw tightened. He hated that Clair was right. Anabella, with her quiet strength and stubborn dignity, would never accept blood on their hands—not even for her sake.

Clair leaned closer. "We need something permanent. Something that makes it clear she’s free."

Noah nodded slowly, the storm in his eyes dimming just enough. "Fine," he muttered. "But if he comes near her again—"

"He won’t." Clair’s voice was firm. "Not after we’re done."

Noah sighed, throwing his body on the sofa as well. But his gaze promised that this was far from over.

"Clair, I think it is time to get involved. I know what you said about letting Anabella make her own choices, but I won’t be able to take it anymore."

Noah threatened and Clair sighed. She knew that it was time to get involved and their first target was going to be Anabella’s shitty mother.

______

The next day, Anabella’s mother, Helena, was finishing her morning coffee when the doorbell rang. She frowned—visitors were rare in her small, tidy home. Adjusting her blouse, she walked to the door and opened it—only to freeze.

Two imposing figures stood on her porch. Helena instantly recognized the sharp, handsome features of Noah Vale and the poised, intimidating presence of Dr. Clair Monroe. Two alphas.

Her heart pounded as she plastered on her best welcoming smile. "Mr. Vale, Dr. Monroe... What an unexpected surprise!"

Noah smiled politely, but there was no warmth behind it. "Hello, Anabella’s mother, Miss Helena."

"May we come in?" Clair asked smoothly, her tone leaving no room for refusal.

"O-Of course!" Helena stepped aside quickly, her mind racing. What could they want from her?

She led them into the cozy living room, trying to keep her composure. "Would you like some tea?"

Clair nodded graciously, sitting gracefully on the old couch. Noah remained standing, casually inspecting the framed photos on the mantel as though he belonged there.

Helena hurried to the kitchen, her hands trembling slightly as she prepared the tea. She wasn’t used to such powerful visitors. Something about them felt... dangerous.

When she returned, setting the tea tray down, Clair smiled politely but didn’t touch her cup.

"We came to talk about Anabella," Clair said evenly, her sharp gaze pinning Helena in place.

Helena’s smile faltered. "Anabella? I—I don’t see much of her these days... We’ve been distant since the... incident."

Noah let out a soft, humorless laugh, finally sitting beside Clair. "Distant, you say? I wonder why."

Helena’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly masked her unease. "I... don’t know what you mean."

Clair leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "We know what you did," she said quietly, her voice like velvet-wrapped steel. "How you pushed her away when she needed you most."

Helena’s face flushed with indignation. "She ruined her own life! She failed as a mate and couldn’t keep her alpha—"

Noah stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Enough."

His voice was calm, but the room seemed to shrink under its weight.

Helena recoiled, suddenly very aware of how out of her depth she was.

Clair’s expression didn’t change. "Anabella’s past with Daniel Ross is over," she said with quiet authority. "She owes him nothing, and she owes you even less."

Noah’s gaze bore into Helena. "If you ever try to use her again... if you ever so much as think about manipulating her..." He let the threat hang in the air, its meaning crystal clear.

Helena’s breath hitched. "I... I didn’t mean..."

Clair rose smoothly, adjusting her coat. "Consider this a courtesy visit."

Noah followed, pausing only inches from Helena. His smile was ice-cold. "Now, shall we get to more important talks. Why do you look so startled, young miss? We are just talking to each other, so there is no need to feel so startled. Please, sit back down."

Clair spoke one thing, but her pheromones spoke another. And despite her best intentions to not give in, Helena felt her legs give in and she could not even stand up.