Chapter 19: Shattered Glass, Shattered Bonds
Chapter 19: Shattered Glass, Shattered Bonds
(Samantha’s POV)
Something inside me snapped. The crystal goblet in my hand flew across the room, shattering against the marble floor with a satisfying crash. The sound echoed through the high–ceilinged living room of Blackwood Manor, fragments scattering like diamonds across the polished surface.
Margaret’s eyes widened, her perfectly manicured hand flying to her throat. Her mouth opened in shock as she stumbled
back.
“Are you done?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Or do you have more insults to throw my way?”
For a moment, Margaret seemed intimidated by my sudden outburst. She took a small step backward, her expensive heels crunching on the scattered crystal fragments.
“You… you could have hit me!” she gasped, clutching her designer purse to her chest like a shield.
“Trust me, if I wanted to hit you, I wouldn’t have missed,” I replied coldly, feeling a strange sense of liberation in finally standing up to her.
The fear quickly vanished from her eyes, replaced by that familiar look of contempt. “How dare you! This is exactly the kind of unhinged behavior that proves you’re unworthy of my son.”
I laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. “Unworthy? I’ve spent five years trying to be worthy of the great Blackwood name.
Five years of fertility treatments, pack politics, and your constant criticism.”
“And failing spectacularly, she sneered, regaining her composure. Her jewelry clinked as she straightened her shoulders. “Now sign the papers and leave with some dignity. At least then people might remember you as someone who knew
when to bow out gracefully.”
My gaze dropped to the crystal shards glittering on the floor. I bent down and picked up one of the larger pieces, feeling its sharp edge against my fingertip.
“Get out of my house,” I said quietly, a drop of blood forming where the crystal bit into my skin.
Margaret’s lips curled in disdain. “This isn’t your house. Nothing here is yours. Not the furniture, not the name, and certainly not my son’s heart anymore.”
Something in my expression must have alarmed her because she suddenly backed toward the door. I followed, the crystal
shard still in my hand, blood now dripping onto the pristine white carpet.
“You’ve never accepted me,” I said, advancing slowly. “Not even when I was breaking my body with treatments to give your
son an heir. Not when I supported him while he built his empire.”
“Because you were never good enough!” she spat, fumbling for the doorknob behind her. “A nobody from a nothing pack! My son deserves a proper Luna, someone who can strengthen our bloodline!”
With a swift motion, I threw the crystal shard. It sailed past her head, missing by inches and embedding itself in the
wooden doorframe with a solid thunk.
“Next time, I won’t miss,” I promised, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
Margaret fled, the door slamming behind her. The sound echoed through the empty house, a hollow punctuation to her
exit.
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Chapter 19 Shattered Glass
My legs gave way and I slid down against the sofa, tears mixing with the blood from where the crystal had cut my palm. I
hadn’t even noticed the pain until now.
It hadn’t always been this way with Margaret. When Ethan and I first mated, she’d been civil, even warm at times. She’d helped plan our mating ceremony, advised me on pack protocols, even shared family recipes.
But as Ethan’s position as CEO solidified and Blackwood Enterprises thrived, her attitude changed. Suddenly I wasn’t good enough for her precious son.
Nothing I did was ever good enough. My clothes were too simple, my manners too unrefined, my conversation too dull. And worst of all, my womb too barren.
The final straw had been last year’s Winter Solstice dinner. After hours of snide comments about my inability to conceive,
I’d finally snapped overturning the entire dinner table in a rage that shocked even me.
The memory of flying crystal and china, of red wine staining Margaret’s white designer dress, still brought me a shameful
tisfaction. The look of absolute shock on her face had been worth the weeks of tension that followed.
The front door opened, and Ethan’s familiar scent filled the room. He must have seen everything through the security
cameras. His footsteps were hurried, almost frantic.
“Sam,” he whispered, kneeling beside me. His eyes were filled with worry as he took in my tear stained face and bleeding
hand. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
I reached up, touching his lips with my fingertips. People said thin lips signified a lack of affection. I’d always dismissed such superstitions, but now I wondered if there was some truth to it.
“Ethan,” I said softly. Not “my love” or any of the endearments we once shared. Just his name. It used to fill him with joy to hear me say it. Now it seemed to fill him with anxiety.
“I saw Mother leaving,” he said, gently taking my injured hand in his. “She looked terrified. What did she say to you?”
“She brought divorce papers,” I replied flatly. “One million dollars and I walk away with nothing else.”
His jaw tightened. “She had no right. I’ll speak to her.”
“Don’t bother,” I said, pulling my hand away from his. “Let me go, Ethan. This isn’t about children anymore. It’s about us.”
His face crumpled. “What do you mean?”
“Our relationship was flawed from the moment you convinced me to quit my healing practice,” I said, the words flowing now that I’d finally found the courage to speak them. “You severed my professional connections throughout the Northern
Territories.”
“That’s not true,” he protested, his voice rising. “I supported your decision to focus on pack duties!”
“My decision?” I laughed bitterly. “You manipulated me into it. Made me feel guilty about helping others when I should be focusing on you, on us, on having children.”
Ethan’s eyes widened in denial. “I never manipulated you. Everything I did was because I love you so much. I couldn’t bear
sharing you with anyone.”
“You were threatened by my male colleagues,” I continued, finally giving voice to truths I’d buried for years. “By the way people adored my healing abilities. By how they needed me.”
His hands clenched into fists, “I wanted you all to myself,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Is that so wrong? To want your mate to be yours alone?”
“When it stifles who they are? Yes,” I said firmly. “That’s not love, Ethan. That’s possession.”
< Chapter 19: Shattered Glass.
+15 Puntos >
I thought of a story my grandmother once told me about a bird that plucked its own feathers and starved to death because it loved its owner too much. I’d become that bird, sacrificing essential parts of myself to please Ethan.
“I need freedom,” I said, wiping away tears with the back of my uninjured hand. “I need to heal people again. To pursue my
own dreams.”
Ethan pulled me into a tight embrace, his face buried in my hair. His body trembled against mine. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re everything to me. We can work this out.”
“I’m not a bird you can keep in a cage,” I replied, not returning his embrace. “Even if the cage is made of gold.”
He pulled back, his eyes still filled with that desperate infatuation that had once made me feel special. Now it just felt
suffocating.
“Let me tend your wound,” he said, reaching for my bleeding hand again. “Please, at least let me do that.”
I showed him the scar on my back from the accident years ago, lifting my shirt slightly to reveal the jagged line. “This is nothing compared to what I’ve already endured.”
His fingers traced the raised tissue of the old scar, and I shivered involuntarily. The touch brought back memories of
better times, when his hands on my body meant comfort and desire, not control.
“I can be both,” I said firmly, pulling my shirt back down. “The gentle woman you fell in love with and the strong healer I
was born to be.”
Ethan’s hand fell away from my back. “What are you saying?”
“I’m going to reclaim my healing practice,” I declared. “I’m going to rebuild my life. With or without you.”
His eyes darkened with a mixture of fear and possessiveness that I’d seen too many times before. His jaw clenched, a
muscle twitching at the corner.
“I’m not a bird you can keep caged, Ethan,” I repeated, my voice stronger now. “I never was.”
My words hung in the air between us, challenging the very foundation of our relationship.
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