Chapter 202

Sebastian’s pov

The color drained from my mother’s face as if she’d just witnessed a car crash in slow motion.

Neither option appealed to her. That much was obvious.

“I’m giving you ten minutes to decide,” I said evenly, my tone almost gentle–the kind of voice you hear right before a legal clause kicks in.

*Finally making a stand*, my wolf growled within me. *She thinks she can keep pushing us away from our mate p>

“If you can’t reach a decision by then, I’ll be happy to make one on your behalf p>

“You’re forcing my hand!” my mother snapped, anger flaring in her eyes. “I refuse to choose p>

I leaned back, calm as ever. “Mother, let’s not rewrite history. When I expressed concerns about Amara returning to Denver, you personally reassured me. You said she wasn’t here to start trouble, that she wouldn’t interfere with my relationship, and that everything had been mutually agreed upon. I respected that. I stepped back. Correct p>

“Good. I extended trust. Respect. But I also gave a clear warning: if she crossed a line, there would be consequences. You didn’t raise any objections then. That was our understanding p>

Her eyes widened. “I never agreed to such terms p>

“Please don’t,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let’s not play the denial game p>

I tapped the screen and played the voice recording–our conversation in the upstairs garden.

Her exact words, her tone, her promises.

She froze, lips parted in shock.

From across the table, I watched Amara glance at my father, eyes wide with silent desperation.

Dad didn’t move. Just shook his head once, subtly. Message received.

I clicked off the recording.

She was starting to understand why I’d been so accommodating that day–why I’d let her have her way without a fight.

It hadn’t been surrender. It had been set up.

“The Black family has always valued fairness and accountability,” I said, my voice cool and deliberate.

“I’ve delivered both. Now it’s your turn p>

I checked my watch. “You’ve got six minutes left p>

My mother sat frozen, as if every nerve in her body were bracing for impact.

Dad, feeling her unravel, made an effort to de-escalate.

“Sebastian, maybe we revisit this after your trip? A day or two–just to cool things down p>

“No.” I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.

I glanced at my watch again. “Five minutes remaining p>

Dad exhaled and pivoted. He turned gently to mom.

“Why don’t we invite Miss Moore for dinner? You could meet her yourself. She seems like a remarkable young woman p>

“Uncle Yardley!” Amara gasped, horrified. Her voice cracked like glass under pressure.

I tapped my watch again, rhythmically. “Three minutes p>

The silence in the room had a pulse now.

My mother’s mind was racing–I could see it in her eyes.

She was balancing pride, family reputation, and the realization that I wasn’t bluffing.

Just as I opened my mouth to declare time’s up, she spoke.

“Amara will leave Denver,” she said, voice clipped but clear.

*Victory*, my wolf rumbled inside me, his satisfaction palpable.

Amara’s eyes welled with tears. “Aunt Regina p>

My mother looked utterly defeated.

Truth was, if she hadn’t chosen, I would’ve brought Cecilia home anyway–and let the fallout unfold in front of her dinner plates.

She knew that now. Knew this was exactly how I’d drawn it up.

“Good,” I said, with a brief nod.

I turned to Amara, my expression unreadable.

“Liam will deliver your things. Be out by tomorrow p>

Then I shifted my gaze back to my mother.

“If not, that would mean you’ve gone back on your word–which reflects on your values, not mine.

And I’ll respond accordingly p>

Mother sat rigid, lips drawn tight, anger simmering but leashed.

I picked up my fork.

“The food’s getting cold. Let’s eat p>

Mother didn’t touch her plate. Her appetite was gone.

Amara sat in silence, misery settling over her like a weighted blanket.

She stared at me, eyes raw, hoping for some flicker of mercy.

When it didn’t come, she stood abruptly and left the room.

I had come home for dinner. And dinner was exactly what I intended to have.

Once finished, I rose, said nothing more, and headed out.

In the car, the city lights blurred past the window.

I leaned back in my seat, watching the night fold in on itself.

Then my phone rang.

I glanced at the screen, frowning slightly before answering.

“Sebastian here p>

A pause.

Cecilia’s pov

In Harper’s apartment, I’d made dinner, watered the nearly dead roses on the balcony, and tidied up the living room.

“Well, well, what fairy godmother has blessed my home?” Harper muttered as she dragged herself through the door, looking like she’d just survived a week-long audit.

Her face lit up when she saw the meal and the clean coffee table–a flicker of joy she clearly hadn’t expected to find in her own apartment.

I smiled. “Wash your hands. Food’s ready p>

Harper had been running around all day like her to-do list had grown teeth.

She dove into the food, clearly starving, but her eyes kept flicking toward me.

“Okay, spill. Trouble in paradise with your Alpha p>

“What could we possibly fight about? The man is I sighed. “Perfect. I can’t find a single flaw p>

Harper raised a brow. “So… you’re spiraling because he’s flawless? You’re scared of how good it is. You don’t trust it. You want to bolt, but you can’t seem to unhook yourself p>

I didn’t respond right away.

Then I said, quietly, “His parents don’t approve either p>

That one word–“either”–hit like a brick.

Harper stopped chewing.

She didn’t need context. That word carried decades of emotional shorthand.

She moved beside me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said gently. “Walk together for as long as the road lasts. If it breaks off p>

She hesitated, then added, “We’ll reroute. That’s what GPS is for. But don’t assume it’s over before it even starts. Maybe he’ll fight for you p>

“Harper,” I interrupted, my voice low but steady. “I don’t want him to fight for me p>

I wasn’t being dramatic. I was being honest.

He’d already given enough.

And some battles–you’re meant to face alone.

Harper stared at me for a moment, like she was trying to decide whether to argue or accept it.

Eventually, she sighed. “Cece, you can’t control this man. If you don’t follow his lead, he’ll just reroute you without asking. You’re playing checkers, and he’s out here playing chess with extra queens p>

I slumped. She wasn’t wrong.

Harper opened her mouth to say something else when the doorbell rang–twice.

She glanced toward the entryway.

“I will bet a thousand bucks that’s Sebastian. Any takers p>

I swatted her arm.

“Money-grubber p>

I got up to answer it.

Maybe because of her comment, I didn’t even check the peephole before swinging the door open.

The moment I saw who was standing there, my smile flatlined.

My stomach dropped like an elevator with no brakes.