Chapter 3: Career First, Marriage Second

When Claire arrived for the interview, a knot of nerves settled in her stomach.

Vantage Group had subsidiaries across half a dozen industries, and the position she'd applied for was in bio-intelligent machinery, the company's flagship division.

She'd kept up with the field since graduation, had even published in a couple of international journals, but real-world experience was another matter entirely.

Five years spent caring for Nathan at home had all but cut her off from the working world.

If her best friend Sophie Bennett hadn't pulled a few strings, she wouldn't have gotten this interview at all.

The interviewer skimmed her résumé, asked a handful of technical questions. Claire thought her answers were solid but his expression never shifted from mild indifference.

"Ms. Whitfield, your knowledge base is clearly strong. But a five-year gap with zero work history doesn't meet the bar for the kind of talent we're recruiting."

"Would you consider a one-month trial? Unpaid. Just give me the chance to prove myself."

She wasn't ready to walk away that easily. Long-term, this was the best opportunity on the table, and she knew it.

"Ms. Whitfield, we get a dozen people a week offering to intern for free. Your credentials don't put you ahead of any of them."

He set the résumé down. In his eyes, she was, at best, a well-read amateur nowhere near what Vantage required.

"I have other appointments. Please see yourself out."

Claire watched his back retreat without a flicker of sympathy, shrugged, and gathered her résumé.

Disappointed, sure. But I'm not ready to quit.

Vantage was the top name in the field of course it wouldn't be easy. Sophie always said to aim for the best company first, and only work your way down after getting turned away.

[Ding looks like fate and I aren't meant to be, lol, sob]

She was texting Sophie in the elevator when the doors opened and caught a flash of golden-brown hair in the VIP elevator beside hers.

She looked up on instinct, but the doors had already sealed shut.

Telling herself she'd imagined it, she walked out distracted enough that she didn't notice her résumé slip out of her folder and hit the floor.

By the time she doubled back for it, it was gone.

—

When she got home, she genuinely wondered if she'd walked into the wrong house.

Toys covered the floor. The furniture had been rearranged entirely. Several of Diana's paintings now hung on the walls, and the whole aesthetic had shifted from clean minimalism to something loud and colorful.

It didn't feel like a home anymore. It felt like a boutique daycare.

Nathan, who should have been at the office, sat on the floor stacking building blocks with Oliver, while Diana hung a bright oil painting on the wall.

Claire stood frozen for a moment. Maybe this was what a real home looked like full of the mess people left behind, instead of something staged for a showroom.

She stepped around the toy pile and went straight to the study to reprint her résumé for the next round of interviews.

"What, didn't get the job?"

Nathan glanced up at her, a faint, knowing smirk on his face, as if he'd expected nothing else.

"It's one rejection. That's all."

Her voice held steady, not a trace of self-pity in it.

"I already had my assistant line up something easy for you. Come into the office with me tomorrow."

"No thank you. I'll find something myself."

Nathan set down the blocks, his expression darkening. "Claire. You could just let me take care of this."

"Nathan."

Diana shot him a reproachful look, settled in beside him, and rested a hand naturally on his arm.

"Claire's not a child. She's allowed to make her own choices." She turned to Claire with a soft smile. "Just say the word if you ever need help. I know plenty of people who run companies."

She'd stopped calling her "Ms. Whitfield." Now it was just "Claire," said the exact way Nathan said it.

Claire's eyes drifted to the painting behind them Diana cradling an infant Oliver, hung front and center, bright and impossible to ignore.

"Then find yourself a job instead of living off someone else's house."

The words came out sharper than she meant. Diana's expression curdled.

"Claire. I'd rather not hear that again."

Nathan's tone wasn't harsh, exactly but the warning underneath it was unmistakable.

Claire's grip tightened on her bag strap, bitterness rising in her chest like a tide she couldn't hold back.

Just then, Aunt Carol appeared through the back hallway, breaking the tension.

"Ma'am where should I put all these flowers?"

Claire followed her gesture and saw the lawn crowded with pots of every size.

"Weren't those in the greenhouse? Why move them?"

Carol glanced at Diana, her face tight, and said nothing.

"Diana wants an art studio," Nathan said. "The glass room has the best light for it."

Diana let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh no I only mentioned the lighting was nice! I had no idea it was your greenhouse. Do you want it back?"

Then, without missing a beat: "This is Nathan's fault, really he never told me whose it was before turning it into my studio."

Nathan, unbothered: "The flowers can go outdoors. We'll just need a few more stands built."

"Forget it." Claire turned to Carol. "Give them away. I don't want them anymore."

She'd thought she'd long since stopped living like a guest in someone else's house. Turns out she hadn't.

In the Wade household, she was just like those flowers unable to hold onto even a greenhouse, left to sit wherever she was put.

"But ma'am, you raised every one of those yourself."

"I'll be working from now on. I won't have time for them anyway."

Even Carol knew how much those flowers meant to her. Nathan clearly didn't care at all.

If Diana hadn't shown up, Claire realized, she might never have understood just how little her last five years had actually counted for.

She walked into the elevator, forcing herself not to look back at the flowerbeds.

But the elevator's glass walls betrayed her in the reflection, she watched the flowers blooming in the exact spot that used to sit closest to her heart.

Behind her, Nathan turned from the elevator and spoke to Carol. "Hold off. Have someone build a proper stand for them, and hire a gardener to keep them up."

He'd caught the reluctance in Claire's eyes, the flicker of something close to real anger, and it pulled an almost amused smile out of him.

His sweet, obedient girl throwing a tantrum, of all things. Over a few potted plants.

—

Claire sat in front of her laptop, unable to focus, that golden-brown blur from the elevator still flickering at the edge of her mind.

She was supposed to be revising her résumé. Instead, she found herself sketching on a blank sheet of paper tousled golden-brown hair, clear blue eyes, something restless and alive jumping off the page.

Splash

A jet of water shot through the doorway and hit the keyboard, soaking the sketch.

Claire scrambled to power down the laptop and shoved the drawing under a stack of books.

Oliver came barreling in, waving a water gun. "Pew pew pew! I'm gonna get you!"

Water sprayed everywhere over papers, books, and her clothes.

"You can't play with that in here," she said, trying to stop him.

"Yes I can!"

He aimed and fired straight into her eyes.

Claire dodged, grabbed him by the collar, wrenched the water gun free, and dropped it in the trash.

Oliver's face crumpled. "Waaah! You're mean! I'm gonna kill you!"

Her head throbbed from the noise. She crouched to his level, voice firm. "No water guns in the house. Understand?"

"This is my house! I get to play! Waaaaah!"

He kicked out with both legs, landing a hit against her.

She caught his arm to steer him toward the door and he sank his teeth into the back of her hand.

"Ah"

Pain shot up her arm and her grip slipped.

Off balance from being let go so suddenly, Oliver toppled to the floor.

"Owww!"

He rolled on the carpet, wailing.

The crying carried downstairs, and Diana came rushing up to scoop him into her arms.

"Baby, what happened?"

Oliver sobbed louder. "That lady threw me down! My head hurts so bad"

"What's going on?" Nathan's brow furrowed as he took in Claire's pale face, then his gaze dropped to her hands where faint traces of blood were just visible.

Before he could get a proper look, Diana had already stepped in front of him.

"Nathan, we need to get him to the hospital."

"Let's go."

He gathered the still-crying Oliver, and the three of them headed for the door.

The sound of crying faded down the stairwell, and Claire stared down at the teeth marks and blood on her hand, tears finally spilling from the pain.

Carol went pale at the sight. "Oh my goodness should we get you a rabies shot?"

Claire let out a short laugh despite herself. If the divorce ever came through, she wondered whether Carol would come with her.

"It's fine. Just have someone clean it up for me."

Carol muttered under her breath, clearly annoyed. "Honestly, the man couldn't even think of taking his own wife with him to the hospital."

It would be a lie to say it didn't sting. It settled into her like a quiet ache.

Not love, exactly. Just the hollow feeling of losing another piece of family.

She didn't own much in this world. But Nathan had always been one of the few things that felt like hers.

Her almost-brother growing up. Her husband of five years. And apart from one other person, the most important man in her life.

That flicker of sadness didn't last long as she wrapped the bite on her hand, a new email lit up her phone.

"Ms. Whitfield, congratulations you've been hired. Please report to Human Resources tomorrow at 10:00 AM."

The sender: Vantage Group, Human Resources.