The-Wrong-Bride-Ares--Raven’s-story-(Maura,-Catharina)_bibis

Chapter Sixty-Two
RAVEN
“I can’t believe she’s pregnant,” Sierra says, her face marred with worry. “This can’t be happening,
can it?”
I nod and lean back on her sofa. In the last couple of days, I’ve found myself staying away from
home more and more often. Ares is doing his best to reassure me, but his words fall flat when he
hovers around Hannah constantly.
Grandma was right. It only took him a few days to start worrying about her wellbeing, and I can’t
begrudge her that — not when I know it isn’t about her, but rather about their child. It still doesn’t
make it any easier to watch.
“Yep,” I say, popping the P. “You’re going to be an aunt soon. Congrats.”
Sierra frowns and tilts her head. “Yeah, you… too?”
My eyes widen for a moment, and then I flinch. Sierra looks away, speechless for once. There are
no elaborate schemes, no jokes. Not this time. This isn’t a situation we can make light of.
“Grandma told me she’d let me go if I want to. She’ll let us get a divorce. I guess Operation
Happily Ever After failed, huh?”
Sierra sits up in shock. “Are you serious?”
I nod and stare down at my nails. “She told me that she just wants me to be happy, but I can’t tell
if it was just a way of asking me to do the right thing and divorce him.”
Sierra shakes her head. “No one but Ares and you get to decide that.”
I nod. “I agree, but there’s some truth to what she told me. I spent my entire life loving your
brother, and what for? In the end, she’s still standing between us.”
Sierra sits up and frowns, her phone in hand. “Someone disabled my security system.”
Moments later, Ares walks in, his stride confident and his expression unyielding as he approaches
me.
“Ares!” Sierra warns, but he ignores her and shoots her a withering warning look.
He reaches for me and lifts me into his arms, one hand around my back and the other underneath
my knee. I instinctively lay my head on his shoulder and breathe him in, my heart instantly at ease. No
matter what we’re going through, he’s always home to me.
“Enough,” he tells me as he walks outs, his grip tight. “I’ve given you a few days to process what