The Bride Widow
Chapter 161: Her help - Part 2

Chapter 161: 161: Her help - Part 2

Jackson reclined against the plush leather of his chair, his phone held lazily in his hand. The expensive whiskey in front of him remained untouched, the amber liquid catching the dim light. He was trying to drown out the world after a particularly messy string of events. Unfortunately, his attempts at solitude were interrupted when his phone buzzed insistently in his pocket.

The screen lit up with the name "Mother." Jackson sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair before answering. "Hello, Mother."

Helena’s voice came through, sharp yet layered with a forced calmness that Jackson knew all too well. "How are you holding up, Jackson? I haven’t heard much from you lately."

He bit back a groan. The last thing he wanted was to admit to his mother how badly he’d bungled things. Between the failed attempts at silencing Anabella and Clair’s growing interference, his life was a minefield of disasters waiting to detonate. "Everything’s fine, Mother," he replied smoothly, injecting just the right amount of nonchalance into his tone. "You don’t have to worry."

There was a pause on the other end. Helena’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. "Are you sure? You’ve been... preoccupied lately. It’s time you focused on settling down, Jackson. Find a suitable omega and stop running around aimlessly."

Jackson clenched his jaw. He knew this conversation was coming—it always did when Helena felt she was losing control of a situation. "Mother, you know I have everything under control. When the time is right, I’ll make the arrangements."

Helena’s tone sharpened. "The time is already right. Your father—"

"I don’t need a lecture about him," Jackson snapped, cutting her off. He regretted it immediately when he heard her sharp intake of breath. "Look, Mother, don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of things."

Helena didn’t reply immediately. Jackson could hear the faint murmur of voices in the background, likely from the dining room of their sprawling estate. She was with his father, no doubt. The thought made his blood simmer. That man barely acted like he cared about anything unless it involved Anabella.

As if on cue, Jackson heard the scrape of a chair being pushed back over the phone. "What’s going on over there?" he asked, irritation creeping into his voice.

"The usual," Helena replied, her tone bitter. "Your father is leaving the table again. He hasn’t said a word all evening."

Jackson’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles whitening. The older alpha’s cold indifference had been a point of contention for as long as he could remember. Even now, it grated on him, the way Marcus seemed detached from everything except his precious Anabella. "Let him go," Jackson said dismissively. "It’s not worth getting upset over."

But Helena’s voice trembled slightly, betraying the tears she was trying to hold back. "He’s always like this. I’ve done everything for this family, and he still—"

"Mother," Jackson interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "Don’t let him get to you. You’ve been the backbone of this family. If he wants to sulk or wander off, let him. He doesn’t deserve your tears."

Helena fell silent, and Jackson could almost hear her fighting to regain her composure. He knew she wouldn’t cry in front of anyone—especially not him—but the image of her biting back her emotions stirred a pang of guilt in him.

"You’ll fix things, won’t you?" Helena asked finally, her voice quieter now. "You’ll make sure this family doesn’t fall apart?"

Jackson leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "Of course, Mother. You don’t need to worry about me or the family. I’ve got it under control."

Helena’s shaky exhale of relief was audible. "I trust you, Jackson."

As he ended the call, Jackson stared at the untouched whiskey in front of him. His mother’s trust was both a blessing and a curse. He hated seeing her vulnerable, hated the weight of her expectations on his shoulders, but he couldn’t let her down—not when she had no one else in her corner.

The older alpha’s behavior at dinner replayed in Jackson’s mind, stoking the simmering anger in his chest. His father’s aloofness had always been a sore spot for him. It wasn’t just the neglect; it was the blatant favoritism toward Anabella that rankled him. Even now, when she had effectively turned her back on the family, Marcus couldn’t stop defending her.

Jackson tossed back the whiskey in one swift motion, savoring the burn as it went down. If his father refused to step up, Jackson would take matters into his own hands. He wouldn’t let the family fall apart—no matter what it took.

His thoughts turned to the mess with Anabella and Clair. The failed attempts to intimidate them were a setback, but Jackson wasn’t one to give up easily. He needed a new approach, one that wouldn’t leave any loose ends. Anabella had always been a problem, but now she was a problem he needed to solve quickly and efficiently.

For now, though, he would focus on keeping his mother reassured. The last thing he needed was for her to unravel further. As for his father, Jackson resolved to confront him sooner or later. He wasn’t about to let the older alpha continue undermining him with his silent disdain and thinly veiled favoritism.

Jackson poured himself another drink, this time savoring the warmth that spread through his chest. His smirk returned, albeit faintly. The family’s problems might be piling up, but Jackson was confident he could handle them. After all, he’d always been the one to clean up the messes—and this time would be no different.

Once alone in the dimly lit study, Jackson swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his expression darkening with each passing second. The weight of the family’s issues pressed heavily on him, but he wasn’t about to shoulder it alone. Picking up his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he found the number he hadn’t used in months—his "brother."

"Hey," Jackson said when the call connected, his voice low and deliberate. "I need your help. Things are getting out of hand, and I can’t fix this on my own. You in?"

A chuckle echoed on the other end. "Always."