Chapter 372

Chapter 372:

What should I do? Should I speak the truth and admit that the child was Bryan’s?

But… what would Clayton think?

I cast an anxious glance at Clayton’s broad back, my mind a whirlwind of nerves and confusion.

“Ha-ha…”

Just then, a carefree laugh sliced through the tense silence like a sudden gust of wind dispelling a storm.

Bryan’s figure emerged from the crowd, his presence as commanding as ever. With an easy swagger, he walked straight through the onlookers, not bothering to acknowledge Dominic or Clayton as he shoved them aside. Without hesitation, he draped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close with a sense of ownership.

His booming laughter echoed through the room, and he addressed the crowd as though he were the star of some grand performance.

“No need to speculate any further. The child is mine. I can already sense its strength. This will be an exceptional child, destined to bring pride to the Lycan clan.”

The shock in the room was palpable. All eyes swung toward Bryan and me, and a murmur of surprise spread like wildfire. Leonardo’s face lit up with undisguised joy. It was as though he could already glimpse the future—a future glittering with promise and power for the Lycan clan.

My eyes instinctively sought out Clayton’s. He was watching me too, his gaze layered with emotions he wasn’t voicing. I could see the storm of unspoken words swirling in his eyes, heavy and conflicted.

A tremor ran through me, and an intense desire to break free from Bryan’s possessive grip surged within me. I tried to push him away, desperate for space, but Bryan anticipated it. His arm tightened like a vise, his deep voice slithering into my ear, laced with a cold, unmistakable threat.

“Woman, you’d better behave, or you’ll regret it tonight.”

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The chilling tone of his words cut through my resistance, and I knew my struggle was pointless. Defeated, I lowered my head, pain and shame burning through me. Every fiber of my being ached to disappear from this wretched place.

Bryan’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he felt my surrender. “That’s more like it,” he whispered, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

“Congratulations, Prince Bryan!” came a voice from the crowd.

“An extraordinary child, no doubt,” another added, eager to flatter him.

The atmosphere shifted as the guests showered Bryan with praise, their earlier surprise now replaced by sycophantic admiration. Leonardo’s hopeful gaze rested on Bryan, clearly placing his expectations on the future of his child.

But I felt like a marionette, my strings pulled tight, forced to perform for an audience under Bryan’s control.

Every so often, I stole a glance at a distant corner of the hall. There, Clayton stood alone, his figure a quiet contrast to the chaotic celebration. He sipped his wine, his solitary stance painfully obvious amidst the buzzing crowd.

Time and again, I felt the urge to pull away, to rush over and explain everything to Clayton, to somehow make him understand. But each time I moved, Bryan’s arm would tighten, as if he were trying to fuse me to his side, never allowing me an inch of freedom.

“Are you angry?” Bryan’s voice, tinged with mixed emotions, crept into my ear.

I glared at him, seething inside.

He chuckled, clearly reveling in my discomfort, his smile smug and infuriating. “Anger won’t change a thing. The child is mine, and so are you.”

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