His new stepsister His biggest threat (Claire and Elijah) novel Chapter 88

**TITLE: Betrayal Births**

**Chapter 88**

**Claire’s POV**

“What are you doing?” I finally broke the silence, my voice barely above a whisper, heavy with confusion and concern.

There was a pause that felt like an eternity. Jessica didn’t respond right away. I could see her shoulders tremble slightly, and then a soft, heart-wrenching sob escaped her lips. When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were red and puffy, glistening with unshed tears, and her lips quivered as if she were struggling to find the right words.

For a moment, I stood frozen, unable to move or process the sight before me. There was Jessica, kneeling on the cold, hard floor of the classroom, her hands clasped together tightly as if she were holding onto something precious that was slipping away. My mind raced, trying to reconcile the image of her with the memories—or lack thereof—that I had of our past.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

I blinked, momentarily taken aback. “For what?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible. “For everything,” she confessed. “For how I treated you before. For the things I said and did. For making your life miserable.”

I was at a loss for words. My gaze shifted toward Elijah, half-hoping he would interject or offer some insight, but he was leaning back casually in his chair, sipping from a juice box as if the scene unfolding before us was nothing out of the ordinary. His expression was calm, almost detached, as if he were observing a mundane spectacle.

He caught my eye and shrugged slightly, an indifferent gesture that only deepened my confusion. Then, without another word, he pulled out his phone and began scrolling, seemingly uninterested in the emotional turmoil happening just a few feet away.

Turning back to Jessica, still kneeling and softly weeping, I felt a strange disconnect. Her words were foreign to me; I couldn’t recall any of the events she spoke of. Her face, her voice, the accusations she hurled at herself—they were all shrouded in a fog of forgetfulness.

Yet, the moment her name slipped from her lips, my wolf stirred within me—an instinctual reaction that was both unsettling and familiar. It was a feeling of unease, a primal alertness that hinted at a deeper recognition. Watching her cry, that restlessness within me began to ebb away. I understood now why my wolf had resisted her presence initially. It wasn’t hatred; it was a recognition of past wounds, an echo of pain that lingered in the recesses of my mind.

Jessica pressed her hands against her face, as if trying to shield herself from the world, and began speaking again, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I was jealous,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “You had everything. Everyone liked you. The teachers trusted you. Elijah always—” Her voice broke, and she paused, swallowing hard, trying to regain her composure. “You didn’t deserve any of it, what I did. And when the accident happened, I thought… I thought it was my fault somehow. I thought the universe was punishing me.”

Her confession echoed softly in the classroom, a poignant reminder of the weight of regret. The few students still lingering in the room pretended to be absorbed in their own conversations, but I could feel their eyes darting our way, curiosity piquing despite their attempts to look away.

I remained silent, my chest tightening, not from anger but from a complex mix of emotions I couldn’t quite articulate. There was nothing to be angry about when I couldn’t even remember the events she was apologizing for. Yet, the genuine pain in her voice resonated deeply within me, stirring something I could not name.

“You can stop kneeling,” I said softly, my heart aching for her.

She shook her head vehemently. “Not until you forgive me.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle on my shoulders. “I don’t even remember what you did, Jessica.”

“I do,” she replied, her voice quivering with emotion. “And that’s enough.”

Her sincerity struck me with unexpected force. I couldn’t be sure if every word was genuine, but there was no denying the way her body trembled or the cracks in her voice that betrayed her vulnerability.

“Okay,” I finally said, the words feeling heavy yet freeing. “I forgive you.”

Time seemed to freeze as she froze in place, and then the floodgates opened once more. Tears streamed down her face, harder and more desperate this time. She bent forward, her hands covering her face, and I stood there, unsure of what to do next. When her sobs began to quiet, I took a step closer and reached for her hand.

“Come on,” I urged gently, my voice a soft beacon in the storm of her emotions.

Her fingers were cold as I helped her to her feet. There was a moment of hesitation, a fragile pause, before she stepped forward and enveloped me in a tight embrace. For a fleeting second, I stood there stiffly, unsure of how to respond. But then, slowly, I wrapped my arms around her, allowing the warmth of the moment to envelop us both.

It was an unexpected warmth, a comfort that felt right despite the chaos surrounding us. Even if I couldn’t recall the past, it felt instinctively correct to let her release the burden she had been carrying for so long.

When she finally pulled away, her face was blotchy and tear-streaked, a testament to her emotional release. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice laced with gratitude. “You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

I nodded, a small smile creeping onto my lips. “It’s fine.”

She offered a faint smile in return, though her eyes were still red and puffy from crying. As she turned to leave, something caught my attention from across the courtyard.

Naomi stood there, frozen in place, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung slightly open as if she couldn’t comprehend the scene she had just witnessed.

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