His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 65

**TITLE: Betrayal Births by Joseph King**

**Chapter 65**

**Claire’s POV**

As the first light of dawn seeps through my curtains, I awaken to a dull ache pulsating behind my eyes, a cruel reminder of the sleepless night that has just passed. Sleep, it seems, was a distant luxury I could not afford; instead, I found myself ensnared in a web of memories that I desperately wished to escape. The events from last night replay in my mind like a relentless film reel, each frame more vivid and painful than the last. My father’s untimely death, Elijah’s shocking confession, the eerie voice that threatened me over the phone—this chaotic montage feels like a fragile house of cards, teetering on the edge of collapse, leaving me amidst the wreckage of my once stable life.

With a heavy heart, I finally manage to lift myself from the warmth of my bed, feeling as though I am dragging an anchor behind me. The house is already bustling with the sounds of morning, the faint chatter of voices wafting up from downstairs, mingling with the rustle of servants attending to their chores. The enticing aroma of breakfast lingers in the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside me. I step into the shower, hoping the warm water will wash away the weight pressing down on my chest, but it does little to calm the storm raging within.

Finally, I descend the staircase, and as I enter the dining room, I find Ethan seated at the table, engaged in a hushed conversation with my mother. Their chatter halts abruptly, their eyes shifting toward me as I walk in.

“Morning,” I manage to murmur, my voice barely breaking through the heaviness in the air.

“Morning, sweetheart,” my mother replies, a smile gracing her lips, yet it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, revealing the worry etched deep within her features. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” I respond, the word feeling like a lead weight in my mouth, heavy and untrue.

Ethan studies me with an intensity that makes my stomach twist. “Elijah told me you know about your father now.”

My heart sinks at the mere mention of his name. “He told you that?”

“He should have,” Ethan replies, his tone steady and unwavering. “You deserved to know, even if the timing was less than ideal.”

I nod, unable to articulate my thoughts, feeling the burden of this newfound truth settle heavily on my chest.

Ethan places his cup down with deliberate care. “I want you to take it easy today. No lessons, no training. Just rest.”

“I’m fine,” I retort automatically, the words escaping my lips before I can think them through.

My mother reaches across the table, her hand gently resting on mine. “Claire, you’ve been through so much lately. You need to listen to your stepfather.”

Arguing seems pointless, so I simply nod again, conceding. “Okay.”

Ethan’s expression softens a fraction, his concern evident. “We’re increasing security around the property. There will be a guard stationed near your room and another by the back garden. Until we figure out who’s behind those calls, don’t go anywhere alone.”

I nod in agreement, a sense of unease creeping in. “Alright.”

He studies me for a moment longer before rising from the table. “Good. I have a meeting with the council. I’ll be back before dinner.”

My mother follows him out, leaving me alone at the table with a half-eaten plate of food that holds no appeal.

I poke at the remnants of my breakfast for a few minutes, the food feeling foreign and uninviting on my plate. Eventually, I rise and step outside, seeking solace in the fresh air. The garden is still damp from the morning dew, the sunlight struggling to penetrate the gray clouds above. I settle onto the stone steps beside the house, attempting to calm the frantic rhythm of my breathing.

But tranquility eludes me.

Each time I shut my eyes, Elijah’s face from last night floods my mind. I can’t shake the image of his expression when he revealed the truth about my father’s death—the quiet certainty in his gaze, the undercurrent of guilt that lingered beneath the surface.

I despise the fact that he kept such a monumental secret from me. Yet, a part of me wrestles with the uncomfortable truth that I still trust him, against my better judgment.

A car door slams nearby, jolting me from my thoughts. Moments later, Elijah strides into view, his jacket draped casually over one shoulder, his hair slightly damp from the morning air. He catches sight of me, pauses, then approaches with a hesitant smile.

“Morning,” he greets, his voice warm yet cautious.

“Morning,” I reply, my tone flat, betraying my inner turmoil.

He stops a few steps away, concern etched on his features. “You didn’t eat.”

“I wasn’t hungry,” I respond defensively, crossing my arms.

He nods slowly, his brow furrowing slightly. “You should eat something later. Skipping meals isn’t good for you.”

“Are you my doctor now?” I retort, a hint of sarcasm slipping through.

His lips twitch into a semblance of a smile. “Just someone who’s seen you almost faint twice.”

I avert my gaze, unwilling to engage in this back-and-forth, feeling the walls close in around us.

“I’m heading to the border patrol later,” he informs me, his tone shifting to a more business-like demeanor. “But first, I need to review the reports on last night’s call. We traced the number.”

My heart races at his words. “You did?”

He nods, his expression serious. “It was bounced through several fake towers. Whoever’s behind it is skilled, but one of the relays originated near the outskirts of the west woods.”

“Near the old railway line?” I ask, dread pooling in my stomach.

“Yeah,” he confirms, his eyes darkening with concern.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. “That’s not far from where the rogues attacked me.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice steady. “That’s why we’re investigating it.”

“I want to go with you,” I insist, determination flaring within me like a flame.

He shakes his head, his expression firm and resolute. “Absolutely not.”

“Elijah—”

“Claire, no.” His tone is unyielding, leaving no room for argument. “It’s not safe.”

I rise, frustration boiling over. “I’m not helpless.”

His eyes lock onto mine, calm yet unyielding. “I know you’re not. But that’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?” I demand, my voice rising, fueled by the anger swirling inside me.

“The issue is that I don’t want to find you lying unconscious again,” he states, the words hitting me harder than I anticipated, leaving me momentarily speechless.

I fold my arms, looking away, stung by the raw honesty in his voice. “Fine. Go without me. It’s what you’re best at.”

He exhales slowly, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice. “I’ll be back before evening. Stay inside.”

Without waiting for my response, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. I watch him disappear down the long driveway, my chest heavy with an unfamiliar mix of anger and something deeper that I can’t quite name.

The rest of the day drags on, each minute stretching into an eternity. My mother leaves for the hospital again to tend to a friend, and Ethan remains absent. The house feels like a cavern, too vast and too silent. I attempt to immerse myself in a book, but my gaze keeps drifting to my phone, hoping for a message from Naomi. I know she’s still weak, so I let her rest.

By mid-afternoon, restlessness consumes me. I make my way to the training room, grabbing one of the wooden practice staffs and pushing through the movements Elijah taught me. My form is off, my timing is sloppy, but I persist, driven by a need to channel my frustration into something tangible until sweat beads down my back and my muscles ache.

Just as I’m about to stop, I hear the front door creak open.

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