Chapter 4: The Husband I Couldn't Fool

Claire felt a cold bead of sweat slowly roll down her spine.

Raphael wasn’t blinking. His dark eyes searched her face, analyzing every micro-expression like she was a hostile corporate takeover.

"I'm not lying," she managed to say, praying her voice wouldn't crack. "My eye didn't twitch."

"It did," he stated smoothly. "A millimeter to the left. Just like it did when you told my mother you liked her hideous Christmas pudding, and just like it did when you said you didn't care that I missed our dinner reservation last month."

Claire’s heart hammered furiously against her ribs. He remembered the stupid dinner reservation from five years ago, but he couldn't remember signing the papers that ended their marriage. The universe had a truly sick sense of humor.

"I sent it to the jeweler," she blurted out.

Raphael’s grip on her hand paused. "The jeweler?"

"Yes." Claire swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold eye contact. "I dropped it off at Cartier this morning. I... I wanted to get it professionally polished and reset."

"Why?" he asked, his tone still highly skeptical.

"Because our anniversary is next month," she lied, and the words felt like broken glass in her throat. "I wanted it to look brand new for the trip. You know, to surprise you."

The silence in the hospital room stretched for three agonizing seconds. Claire held her breath, waiting for him to tear the lie apart.

Then, Raphael exhaled.

The terrifying, hyper-observant billionaire vanished, melting back into the exhausted, incredibly fond husband. He let his head fall back against the pillow and pulled her hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her bare knuckles.

"You overthink everything, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with affection. "I don't care if the ring is shiny. I just care that it's on your finger."

Claire felt a physical ache in her chest. It isn't just off my finger, Raphael. It’s sitting on the nightstand of a house I am never going back to.

"Well, you'll just have to wait a week to see it," she said, forcing a light, teasing tone that she hadn't used in half a decade.

"Fine. But I'm buying you another one anyway. As a backup," he muttered, closing his eyes.

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm rich. There's a difference." He shifted on the bed and instantly winced, grabbing his side. "Damn it. Tell the nurses I want to go home. I hate this bed."

"You have a fractured rib and a concussion. You aren't going anywhere," Claire scolded him instinctively.

"I'll buy a better bed for the house," he argued stubbornly, his eyes still closed. "I can't rest here. It smells like bleach and bad decisions. Plus, I need to get back to the office. If I'm gone for too long, Ethan will probably accidentally sell the company to a tech startup."

Right on cue, the hospital door swung open.

"I heard my name, and I'm assuming it was followed by praise and admiration!"

Ethan strolled into the room, holding a green apple and looking far too cheerful for a man whose cousin was fresh out of emergency surgery.

Raphael glared at him, opening one eye. "Ethan. Why aren't you at work?"

"Because my favorite, and only, cousin almost died in a fiery wreck," Ethan said, taking a loud bite of the apple. "And because Aunt Vivian was about to commit a felony in the hallway, so I had to come be the voice of reason."

"Mother is here?" Raphael frowned. "Tell her to go home. I don't want her stressing Claire out."

Claire blinked, completely taken aback. For the last three years, Raphael had always taken Vivian’s side whenever they argued. He used to tell Claire she was being 'too sensitive' to his mother's harsh comments.

Now, he was literally throwing his own mother out to protect her.

"Already handled," Ethan winked at Claire. "Sent her home in a company car. By the way, boss, you look terrible. Like you fought a concrete wall and the wall won."

"I am going to fire you the second I can hold a pen," Raphael deadpanned.

"You can't. I'm family. Also, I brought Mrs. Kingston a terrible cup of hospital coffee, which basically makes me a hero." Ethan handed Claire a steaming paper cup.

"Thank you, Ethan," Claire smiled, taking the cup. She desperately needed an excuse to leave the suffocating warmth of this room. "Actually, I'm going to go to the cafeteria. Raphael needs real food, not whatever liquid jelly they plan on serving him."

Raphael instantly frowned, reaching out to grab her wrist again. "Send Maya to do it. You stay."

"Maya is at my office, Raphael," Claire said gently, pulling her hand away. "I'll be gone for ten minutes. Behave. Don't throw any more medical equipment."

She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair but left her purse sitting on the seat. She didn't want him thinking she was making a run for it.

"Ten minutes," Raphael warned, watching her like a hawk as she walked to the door. "If you're not back in eleven, I'm pulling this IV out."

"He means it, Claire. Walk fast," Ethan chimed in, tossing his apple core into the trash.

Claire rolled her eyes and slipped out the door.

The moment she was in the hallway, her shoulders slumped. She let out a long, shaky breath, leaning against the cold wall. She felt like she had just run a marathon. Pretending to be in love with a man who had broken her heart was emotional torture.

She walked down to the cafeteria on the first floor. It was mostly empty. She bought a pre-packaged sandwich and a bottle of water, moving like a zombie.

Her mind kept replaying his smile. The way he called her sweetheart. The way he protected her from his mother.

It's fake, she reminded herself fiercely. It's just an echo of the past. It doesn't change anything.

"Claire?"

She jumped, nearly dropping the water bottle.

Daniel Hayes was standing by the cafeteria entrance. He looked out of breath, his tie loosened, holding a damp umbrella. He must have rushed over straight from his architecture firm.

"Daniel? What are you doing here?" Claire rushed over to him.

"I saw the news," Daniel said, his usually calm face tight with worry. He looked her up and down. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"No, no, I wasn't in the car," Claire assured him quickly.

Daniel sighed in relief, running a hand through his hair. "Thank God. When I saw the headline, I panicked. The media is saying he lost control of the car." He lowered his voice, looking around. "Claire... did he sign the divorce papers before it happened?"

Claire rubbed her temples. "Yes. He signed them right before he left."

"Okay. Good." Daniel nodded slowly. "I know this is awful timing, and I know you probably feel terrible. But you can't let this trap you. You finally got out, Claire. Don't let his family guilt you into staying to play nurse."

"It's... worse than that, Daniel," Claire whispered, looking down at her shoes.

"What do you mean?"

"He has amnesia," she confessed, the words sounding absurd out loud. "He lost the last five years. He thinks it's our first anniversary. He thinks we're happy."

Daniel stared at her, completely stunned. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. The doctors said I can't tell him the truth yet. I have to play along."

"Claire, you can't do that," Daniel said firmly, grabbing her shoulders. "You barely survived that marriage. If you go back in there and pretend everything is fine, it's going to destroy you all over again when he eventually remembers who he really is."

"I know," she choked out, fighting back a new wave of tears. "I just... I just need to figure out what to do. I have to go back upstairs before he realizes I'm gone."

"Okay. Call me if you need an escape route. I mean it," Daniel said softly, giving her shoulders a comforting squeeze before letting go.

Claire nodded, grabbing the sandwich and rushing back to the elevator.

Daniel is right, she thought as the elevator dinged on the VIP floor. I can't do this. I'll stay for today, and tomorrow I'll make Ethan hire a professional actor. I don't care about the stock market.

She walked down the hallway toward Room 402, practicing her fake smile.

But as she pushed the door open, the smile froze on her face.

The room was dead silent.

Ethan was standing in the corner, his face completely pale, staring at the bed.

Raphael was sitting up against the pillows. In his good hand, he was holding Claire’s phone. She had left it right on top of her purse.

The screen was lit up.

Raphael slowly lifted his head. The warmth, the affection, the golden-retriever energy, it was all completely gone. The air in the room was so cold it felt hard to breathe. He looked exactly like the ruthless, untouchable CEO she had divorced the night before.

He turned the phone screen around so she could see it.

It was a text message notification from Daniel, sitting right on her lock screen in plain sight.

Daniel: Just left the hospital. Don't let his family trap you. Remember, he signed those divorce papers. You are free.

Claire’s blood ran completely cold. The sandwich slipped from her hands, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

Raphael’s dark eyes locked onto hers, burning with a terrifying, silent rage.

"Claire," his voice was dangerously low, a lethal whisper that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "Why is Daniel Hayes congratulating my wife on our divorce?"