The Bride Widow
Chapter 158: Stifling Life - Part 1

Chapter 158: 158: Stifling Life - Part 1

The lavish penthouse suite exuded opulence, its leather couches and crystal chandeliers casting a soft glow in the dim light.

Jackson, Anabella’s stepbrother, lounged on the velvet sofa, a glass of whiskey dangling loosely in his hand. His tie hung undone around his neck, and his jacket lay discarded on the floor. He was humming to himself, clearly inebriated and basking in his own indulgence.

An omega, draped in silk sheets, reclined on the plush bed behind him, watching Jackson with a lazy smile. "You seem happy tonight," she purred, stretching languidly.

Jackson smirked, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Why shouldn’t I be? Everything’s falling into place."

But his smug demeanor shattered when his phone buzzed violently on the coffee table. He frowned, the glow of the screen revealing an unnamed number. With a low grunt, he answered.

"Speak," he demanded, his voice slurred but sharp.

The response on the other end of the line was quick and frantic. "The plan failed. Both targets slipped through. Clair fought back, and Noah was there for Anabella. We couldn’t—"

"Useless idiots!" Jackson roared, sitting upright and nearly spilling his drink. His sudden outburst startled the omega on the bed, who sat up, her brows knitting in confusion. "Do I have to do everything myself?" he barked into the phone, his earlier haze of alcohol fading as a cold sobriety settled over him.

"We didn’t expect—" the caller began, but Jackson cut them off.

"Don’t give me excuses," he hissed. "I’ll handle this personally. Keep your mouths shut and wait for my instructions."

He ended the call with a sharp jab of his thumb, tossing the phone onto the table. The omega, now sitting cross-legged on the bed, gave him a curious look. "Where are you going?"

Jackson turned to her, his eyes flashing with irritation. "Business," he muttered. "Don’t wait up."

Without further explanation, he shrugged into his jacket and stormed out of the room, leaving the omega to sigh and roll her eyes as she flopped back onto the bed.

______

Meanwhile, across the city, Clair was in a police station, her stern expression and commanding aura making the officers around her visibly uncomfortable. She was relentless, her voice steady but forceful as she spoke to the officer in charge.

"This isn’t just some random attack," she stated firmly, her hands resting on the desk between them. "It’s coordinated, and the targets were specifically chosen. You need to take this seriously."

The officer, a man in his late forties with a graying mustache, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We’re doing what we can, Miss Clair," he said, his tone placating. "But without more concrete evidence—"

"Don’t give me that." Clair’s voice was sharp enough to cut through steel. "You have a duty to protect people, and Anabella has already been through enough. If you won’t act, I’ll make sure someone else does."

The officer hesitated, clearly aware of Clair’s reputation and influence. He sighed, relenting. "We’ll look into it further. But you need to understand—this takes time."

Clair leaned back, crossing her arms. "You don’t have time. Whoever’s behind this isn’t going to wait for you to dot your i’s and cross your t’s. If anything else happens to Anabella, it’ll be on your head."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and the officer finally nodded. "We’ll escalate the case. I’ll assign a few more people to investigate."

"That’s a start," Clair said, standing up. "But don’t make me come back here."

She left the station with a determined stride, her mind racing. It wasn’t just about protecting Anabella anymore; it was about uncovering the truth and putting an end to whatever scheme was unfolding.

As Clair stepped into the car where Noah was waiting, she relayed everything to him. Noah listened, his jaw tightening. "So, they’re dragging their feet, huh?"

"They don’t have a choice now," Clair said with a grim smile. "But we need to stay ahead of this. Whoever’s behind it isn’t going to stop."

Noah nodded, his hand gripping the steering wheel. "We’ll keep her safe. No matter what."

Little did they know, Jackson was already setting his own plans in motion, determined to "tie up loose ends" in his own way.

______

Anabella sat on the edge of her bed, staring out the window. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, illuminating the room, but its warmth did little to dispel the coldness that gripped her chest.

She rubbed her hands together absently, trying to ignore the tremor in them. Every creak of the house, every shadow that flickered at the edge of her vision, made her heart race.

The memory of the men cornering her the day before lingered, replaying in her mind like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. You’re safe now, she reminded herself. Clair and Noah had assured her of that.

But even their words, as comforting as they were, couldn’t erase the creeping fear that someone might come back.

Determined not to let the fear control her, Anabella stood and began tidying up the house. The monotony of the task gave her something to focus on, a small semblance of normalcy. Yet, every time her mind drifted, she felt the tightness in her chest return.

By midday, her nerves were frayed. The solitude of the house, once a comfort, now felt oppressive.

She decided to make tea, hoping the act of brewing and the warmth of the drink might calm her. As the kettle whistled, she jumped, spilling a bit of the hot water on her hand. She hissed in pain, shaking her hand and muttering, "Get a grip, Anabella."

She didn’t notice the sound of a car pulling up outside until the front door opened and Clair’s voice called out.

Relief flooded her, and she set the teacup down before hurrying to the living room.

Anabella did not know how long she would have to live in fear like this, but she wanted to change as well.