Chapter 87

3RD POV

"Damn it!" Clara stomped her foot on the floor in anger as she watched Mannie leave with the children.

Her leg smacked the tile a little too hard. The sound echoed through the small living room. Her face twisted with pain.

She clenched her fists, opening and closing them as if squeezing the air could squeeze out her frustration.

“Why can’t she seem to understand that this isn’t just about my pride? There is a lot at stake here.” Clara said to no one in particular, her voice sharp, her chest rising and falling in quick bursts.

Her hands waved around in the air as she paced. She looked like she was fighting invisible enemies.

“If she can just make David have the marriage and see her as someone in a vulnerable position, he would always protect her, and I will be done with my job with her!” She dragged her hands down her face. “Does she think I will be here forever?”

She let out a long breath and walked to the window, muttering under her breath.

Her teeth bit down on her lower lip. Thoughts flashed through her eyes like quick little sparks — pride, fear, worry, anger, hope, stubbornness.

She shifted the curtain slightly and stared out the window. Her eyes scanned the street. She waited.

When she finally confirmed Mannie was completely out of sight, and there was no chance of her coming back soon, Clara exhaled and reached for her phone.

She opened her contacts with quick, restless fingers. Her thumb hovered over her son’s name.

Then she froze.

Her jaw tightened.

“If I call them and I am unable to bring David and show him as my son-in-law to them, they would laugh at Mannie once again… and I don’t want that.”

Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth.

“What do I do?” she muttered, pacing again. She moved from one end of the room to the other like she was being chased by her thoughts.

She tapped her fingers against her hip.

“What if I visit him at the company?”

She stopped walking. Her eyes brightened with a spark of confidence.

“He can’t say no to his mother-in-law, would he?” She raised her chin. “Nah. He wouldn’t dare.”

The plan settled into her chest with a warm sense of relief.

“Need to shower and rush to the market to prepare a sumptuous dinner to welcome him,” she said, scanning the house quickly. Her face stiffened. “I also need to make the house look more presentable.”

She nodded to herself like a general forming a battle plan.

“I need to convince him to also get Mannie to move from here.”

Clara rushed into the bathroom with quick steps, almost slipping on the wet tile left behind from the kids’ early-morning chaos.

An hour later, she stepped out wrapped in a towel.

She sighed. “Tch. That bath should have been taken when I was done cooking. But oh well… I am running out of time.”

She glanced around.

The house wasn't in terrible shape — thanks to Mannie — but still not good enough to impress a man like David Monroe.

Clara moved quickly, picking up toys, folding stray blankets, sweeping under chairs, wiping surfaces, straightening the curtains.

Her breath turned heavy and fast as she worked, running from corner to corner with surprising speed for her age.

Something that normally took her hours or even days was done in minutes.

Finally, she grabbed her market bag and left the house.

She checked the time.

12 pm.

Her eyes widened. “I don’t have time,” she muttered with a groan.

She abandoned the idea of using her old squeaky bicycle. It was too slow and too embarrassing to take to the kind of market she needed today.

She hailed a cab with a quick wave of her hand.

When the cab arrived, she climbed in, muttering, “Mannie better refund me for all the costs I’m making today on her behalf. I’ve entered more cabs than I should this month…”

The thought of the money leaving her pocket made her chest tighten.

At the market, Clara grabbed everything quickly — vegetables, spices, meat, flour — all the things she needed to create a feast.

Normally, she would spend minutes bargaining, arguing, lowering prices.

Not today.

She paid instantly.

Her mood was too urgent for bargaining battles.

She returned home and went straight to the kitchen.

For the next three hours, pots boiled, oil popped, knives chopped, spices filled the air with sweet warmth. Clara moved like a woman possessed — fast hands, focused eyes, her mind full of the picture of David sitting at their table.

By the time she finished, the kitchen smelled heavenly.

She checked the time again.

3 pm.

“Damn,” she hissed. “I need to get there before they close for the day.”

She threw off her apron and ran into the bathroom again. She changed into her best outfit — a bright dress with firm fabric, something she saved for church events or important days.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was pushed back neatly.Her dress was clean and her face looked determined.

“This will do,” she whispered.

She grabbed another cab — her heart cried about the money again, but she forced herself to ignore the ache.

“Mannie better refund me for everything,” she muttered. “Everything.”

She stepped out of the cab and stared at the massive building before her.

“Damn… this building is huge,” she whispered inwardly.

Its glass surface reflected sunlight like it owned the whole sky.

Her mouth went dry for a second.

But then she straightened her back and walked inside.

She approached the receptionist confidently, her chin raised.

“Please, I am here to see Mr. David Monroe.”

The receptionist looked up slowly, her face painted with thick makeup and attitude.

Her eyes scanned Clara from her cheap shoes to her worn-out purse.

Her lips curled slightly.

“Mr. Monroe doesn’t see beggars,” she said casually, flipping her hair and looking back at her screen.

Clara’s smile tightened but she held it in place. Her voice stayed calm.

“How could any riffraff think they can see the President with a snap of their fingers,” the receptionist muttered under her breath.

Clara inhaled, forcing down her irritation.

“Please tell him that his mother-in-law is here to see him.”

The receptionist burst into laughter — loud, mocking laughter that echoed across the lobby.

“Hahaha… Oh my! You make me laugh, old woman.”

She pretended to wipe tears from her eyes.

“You are delusional. Who knows what your daughter fed you, but just know that a beggar like you is not welcome here. And if you don’t leave this minute, I will call security.”

Clara’s brows knit together.

“You haven’t even called him to ask,” she said sharply. “And I am not a beggar. Neither am I delusional.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes.

She picked up the phone. Her tone switched to fake professionalism.

“Security. There is a beggar disrupting the work environment. Come pull her away.”

Clara blinked in shock.

“This…” she whispered. “You must call him. You don’t want to do something that will cost you.”

The receptionist scoffed.

“Look here, old woman. If you are really the president’s ‘mother-in-law’…” She raised her fingers in mocking air quotes. “…then you should have his number. And you wouldn’t be dressed like—” Her eyes rolled as she looked at Clara up and down.

Security arrived.

Before Clara could speak, two guards grabbed her arms and dragged her toward the door.

“Let me go!” Clara struggled, her legs kicking slightly as she tried to free her arms. Her dress twisted on her body. Her bag slipped from her shoulder and dropped to the floor.

Her feet lost balance.

She fell onto the ground with a thud.

Her palms scraped against the floor. Pain shot up her wrist. Her eyes widened with disbelief.

“What is going on here?” A deep, stern voice cut through the chaos.

David.

He approached the scene with a dark frown, his footsteps sharp, his presence heavy.

The receptionist bowed quickly.

“Sir, it’s just an old woman who claims to be your mother-in-law.”

David stepped closer.

He froze slightly when he saw Clara’s face clearly.

His wolf spoke inside him, a low mutter.

“Isn’t that Mannie’s mom?”

“Yeah,” David whispered under his breath.

He bent down and helped Clara up gently. He brushed some dust off her shoulder. She finished the rest herself, looking embarrassed and angry at the same time.

David turned to the receptionist and security.

“Next time she comes here… let her in.”

His voice was cold.

Clara blinked rapidly, shocked but grateful.

David led her inside the building.

His secretary rushed over, whispering urgently, “Sir, the meeting?”

“Cancel it.”

The secretary blinked, stunned.

David led Clara into the private elevator, pressing the button for the top floor.

Clara looked around, feeling small but also proud.

When they reached his office, David dismissed anyone else from entering.

He pointed at the chair opposite his.

“Sit.”

Clara sat, placing her bag on her lap.

David leaned back in his chair, eyebrows lifted.

“What do I owe this unexpected visit?” His smile was charming — the kind that could melt women of all ages.

Clara inhaled deeply.

“My daughter-in-law bullies me and Mannie so much,” she said in a frustrated rush. “Especially as Mannie has no man and has your kids. So we… I wanted you to stand up for us. And take a further step with Mannie and the kids.”

She released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

David’s smile faded.

He leaned forward slightly.

He didn’t like where this was going.

Family drama?

Pressure?

Marriage?

He hated those words.

He also knew — if the test results came out negative, this would become a disaster.

His jaw tightened.

“This…” he began.

Clara cut in quickly.

“Please, at least follow me and show yourself to my daughter-in-law and some people. This will make them take Mannie seriously. I don’t want to leave Mannie alone with no one to protect her.”

David’s brows shot up.

“What do you mean by leave?”

Clara looked down at her hands.

“I am not going to live forever. I just want to make sure she is in safe hands.”

David inhaled.

He understood her fear. Even if he disliked being dragged into emotional knots.

He opened his mouth to answer—

His phone rang loudly.

He pulled it from his suit pocket and looked at the name.

His eyes sharpened.

“Excuse me,” he said, turning away and walking toward the floor-to-ceiling window.

He answered the call.

“This call better be that you have the results,” David said, his tone firm.

“Yes, boss,” the voice replied, breathless and excited. “This is strange. The result shows positive. You are the father… but the situation seems strange.”

David’s happiness cooled.

“What is strange?”

“Well,” the voice said, sounding more like a crazed scientist than a doctor, “one kid has your full genes. The others have a mix — yours and other unidentified genes. And even the mother’s genes show variation. This is something I have never seen before.”

David felt a chill.

The scientist continued excitedly.

“The research value for this is crazy. Boss, please bring them to the lab.”

David’s fingers tightened around the phone.

His wolf growled softly.

“Why not investigate it a bit? You wouldn’t want to end up in a spot you can’t control.”

David swallowed hard.

“I will think about it,” he said and ended the call.

He turned back to Clara.

“Mom… I will come with you.”

Clara’s eyes brightened instantly. She stood up, smiling widely.

His sudden use of “Mom” made her chest swell.

“Let’s go then,” she said happily.

She followed him out of the office — almost skipping.

She quickly pulled out her phone behind David’s back and messaged Sandra and her son.

The thought of their shocked faces made her grin.

If she could get David to marry Mannie soon?

Even better — a double blessing.

She imagined the pride, the respect, the change in how everyone looked at her daughter.

Her steps grew lighter.

She walked behind David, excitement growing with every second—​