His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

**Claire’s POV**

The atmosphere in the house was thick with an oppressive silence that lingered long after my unsettling encounter with Elijah.

This morning was supposed to herald a sense of relief—my mother was finally back home from the hospital. Yet, instead of joy, I felt a heavy cloud of unease hanging over us, suffocating the air in the room. Perhaps it was merely my own inner chaos that tainted the moment, but it felt as if even the walls were holding their breath, waiting for something to unfold.

Ethan, ever the beacon of optimism, proposed a family dinner to celebrate my mother’s recovery. His suggestion was well-intentioned and should have filled me with warmth, but I found myself yearning for the solace of my room, a refuge from the swirling expectations and emotions that enveloped me.

I spent the afternoon upstairs, attempting to immerse myself in a book that failed to capture my attention. My mind was a chaotic whirlpool, constantly drawn back to thoughts of Elijah and the etiquette session that had left an indelible mark on my psyche.

His voice echoed in my thoughts, the way he had adjusted my posture with such precision, the intensity of his gaze that lingered on me longer than was comfortable. I tried to convince myself that it was merely part of his role, that he was adhering to his father’s instructions. Yet, the mere thought of facing him again sent a shiver of anxiety coursing through me, twisting my stomach into knots.

Eventually, I made my way downstairs, where the dining table was already set, adorned with a colorful array of dishes that beckoned us to gather. My mother sat at one end, her complexion improved but still carrying the pallor of her recent illness. Ethan was beside her, engaged in a low conversation about an upcoming pack meeting, his voice a soothing balm amidst the tense atmosphere.

And then there was Elijah. He looked up as I entered, his expression inscrutable, yet his eyes were a tempest of emotions that I wasn’t prepared to confront.

“Claire,” my mother greeted, her smile warm and inviting, a beacon of comfort in the storm. “Come sit. I made sure the cook prepared your favorite soup.”

I slid into the chair beside her, positioning myself directly across from Elijah, the distance between us felt like an insurmountable chasm filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

As dinner commenced, the atmosphere was muted, the soft clinking of cutlery creating a rhythm that was both comforting and unsettling. My mother and Ethan discussed the upcoming gala, emphasizing its significance and how crucial it was for everyone to attend, especially since it would mark my mother’s first official appearance as Luna.

I attempted to listen, but my attention was repeatedly drawn back to Elijah. He sat there, calm and composed, barely touching his food, as if he were battling against an unseen tide.

In one fleeting moment, our eyes locked, and time seemed to stretch infinitely. His gaze held mine for a heartbeat longer than necessary before he returned his focus to his plate, as if breaking a spell that had momentarily entranced us both.

“Claire,” my mother suddenly broke the silence, her voice slicing through the tension like a knife. “How was the etiquette session? I hope Elijah was patient with you.”

I forced a small smile, carefully masking the tumult that churned beneath the surface. “It went fine.”

Ethan chuckled softly, his tone light and teasing. “Good. You’ll be spending more time together before the gala, so I’m glad it started off well.”

My hand froze around my spoon, a chill running through me at his words. I glanced up, but Elijah’s expression remained unchanged, inscrutable as ever.

“Sure,” I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper, as if saying anything louder might shatter the fragile tension that hung in the air.

We continued to eat in silence, the conversation between my mother and Ethan serving only to heighten the tension that crackled between Elijah and me, a silent storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Once dinner concluded, my mother and Ethan excused themselves to the living room to engage with one of the house staff. I found myself stacking the plates, a futile attempt to occupy my hands and distract my racing thoughts.

“Leave them,” Elijah’s voice came from behind me, cutting through the stillness like a sharp blade.

I turned slightly, a frown creasing my brow. “I’m just helping.”

He stood near the sink, sleeves rolled up, his hair tousled from running his hands through it in frustration. He reached for a plate I was holding, and our fingers brushed against each other, sending an unexpected jolt through me that ignited a spark of warmth in the cold kitchen air.

The contact made my heart race, not with pain but with a strange, exhilarating unfamiliarity. Instinctively, I pulled my hand back, a wave of uncertainty crashing over me. “I can manage.”

His gaze lingered on me, a mixture of concern and something deeper swirling in his eyes as he stepped closer, invading my personal space. “You should rest. You look tired.”

His tone stirred something defensive within me, a wall rising instinctively. “I’m fine, Elijah. You don’t have to pretend to care.”

He paused, leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed yet tense, as if he were caught between wanting to reach out and fearing the consequences. “You really think I don’t?”

I met his gaze, unyielding, the intensity of the moment palpable. “You’ve made it pretty clear before.”

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