Ran Away Pregnant Came Back Alpha Heiress (Amelia and Damien) novel Chapter 295

**Chapter 295**

**Damien’s POV**

“It’s not about Annette,” I asserted with a firmness that surprised even me, irritation bubbling beneath the surface at the mere thought of her suggestion. As if I needed more justification to stay away from Claire than the glaring reasons already etched in my mind. “It’s about Amelia and the way you treated her.”

A flicker of doubt crossed my mind, a whisper that perhaps Annette was Amelia, and maybe this was about Annette after all. But I would be damned if I let that thought escape my lips. No, I would never hand Claire a new target to aim at, not after the pain she had inflicted on Amelia. Just the sight of Claire in the same room ignited a fire of rage within me that was hard to contain.

For the sake of Annette—and for my own peace of mind—I silently vowed to do whatever it took to keep Annette away from Claire, and vice versa. I had failed Amelia in ways I could never forgive myself for, but I would not allow history to repeat itself with Annette, regardless of whether she truly was Amelia or not.

Claire narrowed her gaze, her eyes sharp and calculating. “Fine. It’s your loss,” she retorted, a hint of smugness creeping into her voice.

If she genuinely believed that I would consider marrying her a gain, she was living in a fantasy. The less of her presence I had in my life, the more at ease I would feel. My children relied on me, and I would not let Claire encroach upon my time any more than her position on the council warranted.

With a dismissive gesture, Claire set her phone aside and reached for the crumpled invitation lying on the desk. She smoothed it out with deliberate care, pressing it flat against the surface, her fingers lingering over the paper as if it held some kind of power.

“If you ignore this ceremony,” she said, her tone dripping with faux concern, “the rest of the pack council will resent you. I can’t imagine the people will be too pleased about it either.”

“Who crafted the invitations, Claire?” I countered, my curiosity piqued.

“What does that even matter?” she deflected, her irritation palpable.

Her evasiveness told me everything I needed to know. I envisioned Claire hunched over a desk, meticulously drafting these invitations herself, perhaps hoping to ensnare me into attending the ceremony. Maybe she wanted the public to believe I favored her, to paint a picture of unity that didn’t exist.

I could be paranoid, but it felt like a trap designed to eventually force my acceptance of her as my Luna.

That would never happen. She had to understand that. Yet, a nagging doubt lingered—perhaps I was just being overly cautious.

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