Alpha's Regret, Begging My Convict Luna Back Chapter 52

Aria’s POV

I could feel the shift in the room as Margaret froze, her eyes narrowing as she processed what I’d said. Anger surged in her, her eyes shining briefly with her wolf.

She snapped back to herself, her voice sharp, "I’m your mother."

I felt my lips curl into a mocking smile, though I barely had the energy to hold it there. My voice cut through the tension, cold and biting. "And you should rember that, Mom. I’m your real daughter." The words stung, but they felt like sothing I needed to say.

I saw the shock flicker across Margaret’s face. She stood there, rooted to the spot, her mind unable to catch up to the anger that was suddenly swirling in the air between us.

Then, as if on cue, Sophia’s voice sliced through the silence, trembling with fake hurt. "Aria... are you blaming ?"

I turned to face her, already knowing what was coming. Her face was a picture of wounded innocence—just like I expected. She was playing that sa tired card, her eyes wide with exaggerated sorrow. It almost made my stomach churn.

She sobbed, fake tears falling as she whimpered, "It’s my fault. If my mom hadn’t saved Margaret back then, I wouldn’t have stolen her attention and care from you."

Oh, please. Not this again. I could see through her act, but Margaret, as always, was too blinded by her need for control to notice. Sophia was crying, red-faced with fake sorrow, and I knew it was all for show.

Margaret’s anger flared up again, icy and sharp, as she turned to glare at , her gaze venomous. "Sophia’s mother saved my life. You’re my daughter, can’t you just let her have this?"

Let her have it? The anger inside twisted, my wolf howling to tear sothing apart. I bit back the urge to snap, forcing the words out, cold as ice. "All these years, you’ve forgotten, haven’t you?"

Margaret had long since overlooked . Her own flesh and blood, treated like a weed, while her adopted daughter was a jewel to be treasured. I could feel the bitterness flood my chest, the heat of it coiling inside like a predator preparing to strike.

"You owe her your life, so repay her yourself. Don’t drag into it," I said, my voice low and controlled, but it was a challenge, a demand.

Without sparing them another glance, I turned on my heel and walked out.

The door closed behind , but my voice, cool and indifferent, carried on the breeze. "I’m not giving it up, not this ti."

I could hear Margaret’s fury as she shouted after , but I didn’t stop. "I’m your mother. You’ll give it up whether you like it or not."

My steps faltered briefly, then quickened. My wolf was restless within , its claws scraping against my mind, pushing forward with a hunger I couldn’t quite ta. This is it. I can’t back down now.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sophia, they had co out. She was hiding behind Margaret, staring after with wide eyes. She hadn’t expected to be so... resolute. Good. Let her feel that sting. Let her see what happens when I finally stop taking it all.

I reached the living room, my gaze falling on a man in a crisp suit standing at the door. He looked out of place here, as stiff as his suit, like a wolf trying to hide among sheep. A maid, who had clearly been expecting him, ushered him in with a respectful bow, though I could sense the tension in her movents. It made my hackles rise.

I frowned, a growl low in my chest, and pushed through the door. The suddenness of my appearance startled them both. The maid stumbled back, her eyes wide with panic. "Ms. Darvin," she stamred, rising to her feet quickly and bowing, her fear palpable.

I didn’t move aside. My hand shot out, gentle but firm, and I shoved her aside. She’s hiding sothing.

"Ms. Darvin!" The maid’s voice cracked, rising in panic as she tried to regain her position in front of the table. But I was faster. My hand held her in place with an iron grip on her shoulder, my fingers digging into the fabric of her uniform.

And there it was. My gaze landed on the coffee table, where sothing thick and official sat. It was a will.

I froze.

Kate’s will.

My fingers trembled at my side. The signature was scrawled in familiar, looping script, Kate.

Grandma. My heart pounded louder in my ears. I reached out to touch it, my breath quickening as the weight of the mont pressed down on .

"Aria. Put it down."

Margaret’s voice rang out, cold and sharp as she stord in, slapping my arm away with such force that I felt a red handprint bloom across my skin.

I caught the glance Margaret exchanged with the maid, the unease in the maid’s face almost as clear as the judgnt in Margaret’s.

Before I could respond, the man in the suit stepped forward, breaking the tense silence. He looked at Margaret first, then , nodding as if he were used to being a ssenger for bad news.

"Mrs. Margaret Darvin, I’m Alexander Gibson, the lawyer present when Madam Osborne drafted her will. I’m here today to transfer Madam Osborne’s inheritance to Ms. Darvin’s na."

My heart skipped a beat.

Alexander held up the will, his voice clear and steady as he read the contents. "The inheritance includes the Darvin Manor, where you all reside, a portion of Darvin Group stock funds, and various jewelry and heirlooms left by Madam Osborne."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air before continuing. "Per her wishes, these are to be inherited by her granddaughter, Aria Darvin."