The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 141: Justice

Easter~

The day passed in a blur after Jacob dropped me off at school. I tried to focus on lectures and notes, but my thoughts kept drifting back to his voice—his words echoing like an anthem in my mind.

"You are fire in human skin."

"Because you deserve it, Easter. And one day... I hope you’ll see yourself the way I do. As someone deserving."

No one had ever spoken to me like that. No one had ever looked at me the way he did—like I was not just seen, but known.

By the time school was over, I felt like I had floated through the day, tethered only by the memory of his smile. My feet had barely touched the ground, and I was already searching the parking lot for the familiar black car. And there it was—sleek, impossibly shiny, glowing like it had been painted with the night sky.

The passenger door opened before I even reached it. Jacob stood beside it, one hand on the frame, his eyes locked on mine.

"Milady," he said with that crooked smirk that made my stomach do things I didn’t have the vocabulary for.

"You’re seriously committing to this whole ’gentleman of the realm’ bit, huh?" I teased, sliding into the car.

"I’m old-fashioned," he said, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. "And besides... you deserve someone who opens doors for you."

My heart did a painful flip in my chest.

He started the engine, the car humming like it purred for him alone, and we pulled out of the parking lot. The world outside looked ordinary—but sitting next to Jacob, everything felt unreal, like I’d stepped into a different lifetime.

"So," he said casually, glancing over at me. "How was your day, Miss Fire-in-Human-Skin? Anyone give you trouble?"

I smiled, shaking my head. "Actually, it was... perfect. No trouble. But my classmates wouldn’t stop asking questions."

"Oh?" he raised a brow, amused. "What kind of questions?"

I turned toward the window, embarrassed. "They wanted to know who the guy in the ’fancy black car’ was."

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, like honey drizzled over firewood. "And what did you tell them?"

I bit my lip, then glanced sideways at him. "I told them... you were my lifesaver."

He turned his head sharply, his eyes catching mine for a beat too long. The laughter faded, but something else—something much more dangerous—lit up behind his gaze.

"Is that what I am to you?" he asked quietly, his voice suddenly serious.

I swallowed, feeling heat crawl up my neck. "Well, yeah. You saved me."

His fingers tightened just slightly on the steering wheel. "You’ve saved yourself more than you realize, Easter."

We fell into a warm silence after that, the kind that hums between people who understand something too big for words.

But then... the atmosphere shifted.

I knew the street before I saw the house.

That place. That cursed, lifeless house.

I sat up straighter, my entire body recoiling before I could stop it.

Jacob pulled up to the curb, his expression calm. "You okay?"

I couldn’t look at it without my stomach twisting. That ugly, beige cage of a house. Where love never existed. Where I’d drowned every day with permanent fear painted on my face and heart.

"It’s only been five days," I whispered. "But it feels like a lifetime ago."

Jacob turned off the engine and looked at me. "You never belonged here," he said gently. "And this will be the last time you ever have to walk through that door."

I nodded, swallowing the nausea.

We stepped out. I stood beside him, needing to feel his presence like armor.

The door creaked when we entered, and the smell hit us instantly—stale beer, old sweat, something decaying.

I gagged. "God..."

He placed a reassuring hand on my lower back, guiding me forward with quiet strength.

And there he was.

Ruben.

My "husband."

He was slumped on the couch like a discarded rag doll—his hair greasy, shirt stained, eyes bloodshot. He looked thinner. Broken. The arrogance that once filled the house like poison had drained from him.

When his eyes landed on Jacob, his whole body jolted.

Then he saw me, standing beside Jacob—calm, strong, alive—and his face twisted in disbelief.

He dropped to his knees.

"No, no, please," Ruben whimpered, his voice hoarse and frantic. "Please don’t kill me! I didn’t mean to—! I didn’t think—! Please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!"

I blinked, stunned. I had never seen Ruben beg. Never seen him afraid until Jacob.

Jacob tilted his head, an amused grin playing on his lips. "You think I came here to kill you?"

Ruben trembled like a child. "I—I know I deserve it. I’m a horrible person. But please, I—I—"

Jacob raised a hand. "Stop." His voice was soft, but it sliced through the air like thunder. "If you behave, I won’t kill you."

Ruben whimpered, folding further into himself.

With a flick of Jacob’s fingers, the air shimmered, and then—pop—a man appeared beside us, adjusting his round glasses and brushing invisible lint from his grey suit.

Mr. Caldwell.

The famous divorce lawyer.

He looked around the room, wrinkling his nose in disgust before giving Jacob a curt nod.

"I have the papers, sir."

"Thank you," Jacob said. "Easter dear..."

He held the crisp stack of documents toward me. My heart beat wildly as I reached for the pen he summoned from thin air.

This was it.

The chains I thought would bind me forever... were about to snap.

I signed my name. Each letter felt like I was carving my way out of a tomb.

Jacob took the documents from me and turned to Ruben. "Now, your turn."

Ruben hesitated.

Jacob’s voice deepened, touched with something ancient and terrifying. "Don’t make me repeat myself."

With trembling fingers, Ruben snatched the pen from the table like it burned him. His hand shook so hard the ink scratched across the paper in a barely readable scrawl.

Mr. Caldwell, ever calm and clinical, flipped to the last page. "And here," he said, tapping the bottom line, "is where you relinquish all paternal rights to the children you share with Mrs. Morgan."

Ruben’s head jerked up like he’d just been slapped. "What?" His voice cracked, caught between panic and disbelief.

Jacob stepped forward, and the air shifted instantly—dense and sharp, like the moment before a lightning strike.

"You never treated Rose like your child," Jacob said, his tone low and lethal. "You treated her like property. Like a shadow. You don’t get to call yourself her father anymore."

Ruben stared at him, his lip trembling. His pride shattered in pieces on the floor. But he signed.

And just like that—it was over.

Mr. Caldwell straightened his suit and gave Jacob a stiff, practiced bow. "I assume I’m not meant to question any of this."

Jacob smirked. "Smart man."

With a flick of Jacob’s fingers, the air shimmered again—and just like that, the lawyer disappeared, leaving nothing but silence and the scent of old paper.

Ruben collapsed to his knees, shoulders hunched like a crumbling statue. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as if the world had officially swallowed him whole.

And maybe it had.

I turned to Jacob, my whole body humming, adrenaline still rushing like fire under my skin. But it wasn’t fear anymore. It was release. It was freedom. My chest rose and fell like I’d just broken to the surface after drowning.

I looked at him—this strange, powerful, impossibly kind man—and whispered, "Thank you."

Jacob’s gaze softened. He reached out, brushing his knuckles down my cheek with that same feather-light touch that always made my breath catch.

"You did that," he said. "You took Natalie’s hand. You walked away. You survived."

I leaned into his hand, closed my eyes for a second. "I don’t even know who I am without the pain."

"You’ll find her," he murmured. "And when you do, you’ll love her."

I felt my throat tighten, but I smiled anyway. Because he believed in me.

I nodded, wiping under my eyes quickly and stepping back. "Let’s go."

Jacob nodded and turned toward the door with me—but we barely took two steps before I heard it.

A thud.

Then a desperate voice behind me.

"Wait! Please!"

I turned just in time to see Ruben throw himself forward, landing hard on his knees right at my feet. He grabbed the hem of my coat with both hands, clutching it like a lifeline.

"Easter," he cried. "Please... please beg him. Beg him to let me go. Don’t let him trap me in this place again. I swear I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry for everything I did to you, to Rose—just don’t let him lock me in again."

His voice cracked, and his face twisted into something pitiful—something broken.

I stared down at him. And for a second, I didn’t see the man who used to own my life—I saw a man who lost control of it.

But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t kneel. I didn’t cry.

I looked at him and saw the truth: this wasn’t my burden anymore.

This was justice.

I didn’t answer him—not yet. I looked up at Jacob instead, silently waiting for his response.