The Bride Widow
Chapter 135: Ch 135: Starting to make moves - Part 2

Chapter 135: Ch 135: Starting to make moves - Part 2

The drive back to Clair and Noah’s shared home was mostly silent. Both alphas were deep in thought, their minds already working through the next steps of their plan. It wasn’t just about helping Anabella recover anymore—it was about ensuring that Daniel Ross paid for the pain and turmoil he’d caused her.

Once they arrived home, Clair tossed her bag onto the kitchen counter and turned to Noah with a determined expression. "We need to get started."

Noah leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms. "Agreed. But where do we begin?"

"Daniel’s company," Clair replied without hesitation. "His finances are the backbone of his influence. If we disrupt that, we can hit him where it hurts."

Noah’s lips curled into a sly grin. "You know, you’re scarily good at this."

Clair ignored the comment, already pulling out her laptop and settling at the dining table. "We need to find out everything we can—financial vulnerabilities, connections, any skeletons in his closet. People like Daniel always have something to hide."

Noah grabbed a chair and sat beside her. "I’ll make a few calls. Some of my contacts might have information we can use. If we’re lucky, we might even find someone inside his company willing to talk."

Clair nodded, her focus unwavering. "Good. The sooner we have leverage, the sooner we can act."

As Noah reached for his phone, Clair began typing furiously, her screen filling with reports, articles, and business records. It was a meticulous and painstaking process, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t just about revenge—it was about justice for Anabella, who had been wronged in ways Clair couldn’t forgive.

"We have to be careful," Noah said after a moment, glancing up from his phone. "Daniel’s no fool. If he senses we’re coming for him, he’ll retaliate."

"I know," Clair replied, her tone cool. "But we’re not giving him the chance. By the time he realizes what’s happening, it’ll already be too late."

Noah smirked. "I like the sound of that."

They worked late into the night, piecing together the beginnings of a strategy that would dismantle Daniel’s empire bit by bit. For now, it was all groundwork, but they were patient. Clair and Noah weren’t just looking for quick wins—they were planning something much bigger, something that would ensure Daniel could never hurt Anabella again.

______

Daniel Ross’s house was suffused with a suffocating tension, the kind that lingered and refused to dissipate.

Sharon hadn’t spoken a word to him in days, her silent treatment more punishing than any argument they’d had. Last night, she’d packed a small bag and left, claiming she needed "some time together"—a phrase that stung more than it should have.

The truth was clear: she wasn’t talking about togetherness with him.

Daniel tried to keep his composure, but every interaction in his house felt like walking on broken glass. His son, James, had been particularly vocal about his grievances, his complaints cutting through the silence with sharp precision.

"Dad, this smell is disgusting!" James had whined for the third time that morning. "Ever since you—" he hesitated, his nose wrinkling in distaste, "mated that random omega, everything feels off. It’s like it’s stuck to you."

Daniel sighed heavily, his patience wearing thin. "James, drop it. I don’t have the energy for this right now."

James wasn’t easily deterred. "You should fix it, Dad. Everyone at school keeps asking me if it’s true. It’s embarrassing!"

Daniel’s jaw tightened. The mention of "everyone" at school brought another layer of irritation. Questions and whispers about his personal life were the last thing he needed, especially when he was already drowning in them at work. Every call, every meeting was peppered with veiled inquiries about Anabella.

"What are your plans for her?"

"Are you going to announce anything soon?"

"Now that you’re mated, will she contest the bond?"

The relentless curiosity made Daniel’s head pound. Anabella was supposed to be his past, but the world refused to let her go.

Then there was Lola Miers. Her name flashing on his phone was now a regular occurrence, each call an unwelcome reminder of his tangled situation.

The phone buzzed on the table beside him, Lola’s name lighting up the screen once more. Daniel stared at it, his thumb hovering over the decline button, but he didn’t press it. It wasn’t that he wanted to talk to her, but ignoring her wasn’t solving anything either.

After a moment, he picked up the phone, bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation. "Lola."

Her voice was light but laced with insistence. "Daniel, we need to talk. This can’t go on like this."

"There’s nothing to talk about," he said tersely. "You know where I stand."

"Do I?" Lola’s tone sharpened. "Because from where I’m standing, things are anything but clear. You marked me, Daniel. Do you understand what that means for me? For us?"

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose, the weight of his decisions pressing down on him. "Lola, I didn’t choose this."

"And yet, here we are," she shot back. "You owe me more than avoidance and half-hearted denials. Meet me, and let’s clear the air."

The call ended before Daniel could respond, leaving him staring at the blank screen. His hands clenched into fists, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. His life had become a whirlwind of complications, and no matter where he turned, the chaos seemed to follow.

He stood in the center of his house, the walls closing in. The once-cozy space felt cold and unwelcoming now, each room a reminder of the mess he’d created. Sharon’s absence, James’s complaints, the suffocating questions from the outside world—it all weighed on him.

For a fleeting moment, Daniel thought about Anabella. She’d been quiet, staying out of sight, yet her presence loomed in the background of his thoughts. A part of him wondered how she was coping. Did she hate him? Was she relieved to be free of him?

Daniel shook the thoughts away. He didn’t have the luxury to dwell on her now—not when his life was on the verge of unraveling.

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