MasukNathaniel saw the look of pure terror on Vivian's face and spun around to see what had caused it.
The moment he registered that it was Claire standing in the doorway, his stomach dropped. Seeing the man she'd built five years of her life around looking so pathetic only fed Claire's fury. She raised the mop and swung. Nathaniel took the hits across his bare skin, wincing, throwing his arms up to shield his eyes from the dirty water streaming down. Once she'd given him a proper thrashing, Claire turned the mop on Vivian, scrubbing it across her too before flinging it aside and tearing at the clothes the woman had just hurriedly pulled on, ripping them clean off her. She grabbed the mop again and went at Vivian like she was chasing off a stray dog, the woman shrieking the whole time. The second Nathaniel got a window, he yanked on his clothes and pulled Claire off Vivian, his face dark with something between shame and barely restrained anger furious that his little rendezvous had been so rudely interrupted. Seeing the nerve of him, still acting wronged, Claire drew back her hand and slapped him across the face without hesitation. Then, not sparing him another glance, she marched toward Vivian and yanked away the blanket the woman was using to cover herself. "You shameless homewrecker. You had no problem screaming his name a minute ago what exactly are you trying to hide from me now?" She slapped Vivian twice more, leaving her cheeks blotched red beneath the tear tracks. Watching his mistress get manhandled was apparently the last straw for Nathaniel. He shoved Claire back and planted himself between the two women, wrapping Vivian protectively in his arms, his heart clearly aching at the sight of her pretty, tear-streaked face swelling from the blows. Claire stumbled back against the wardrobe, stunned for a beat before whipping around to face the pair of them, her expression turning glacial. Nathaniel had already draped his coat over Vivian's shoulders, holding her like she was something precious. Claire studied them both, cold and unreadable. Curled against Nathaniel, Vivian's eyes swam with tears, her small frame trembling with sobs. There was no denying the woman was beautiful the kind of delicate, wounded beauty that could turn a certain type of weak man's head completely. That fragile, heartbroken look on her face was clearly working exactly as intended on the fool holding her. Watching the two of them together, Claire felt her carefully composed expression crack, flushing red with rage. It hit her all at once how their intimacy had thinned out over the last two years, how distant he'd grown. This wasn't Vivian. Not the first, not by a long shot. He'd probably been cheating for years, and lately they'd gotten so comfortable they didn't even bother hiding it outside anymore. Bold enough now to bring it straight into her home. They hadn't just betrayed her. They'd stopped even respecting her enough to be careful about it. The longer she thought about it, the colder her fury became. She looked at the two of them locked together, let out a short, humorless laugh, and delivered one flat, final line before walking out. "I'll see you at the marriage registry office tomorrow morning." That rotten, diseased excuse of a man infected with who knows how many other women's filth. She wanted nothing more to do with him. He disgusted her. Whoever wanted him now could have him, and gladly. Nathaniel said nothing. Didn't even try to explain himself. Of course he wouldn't. He'd probably been praying for this exact moment waiting for her to be the one to say the word divorce first, so he wouldn't have to carry the blame for it. He must have been done with her for a long time already, just biding his time. Claire walked out of that apartment feeling frozen straight through, her eyes stinging, her throat raw, her heart in pieces. At least there were no children caught in the middle of this. That made a clean break easier. She drove to the small apartment she'd bought years ago and kept for herself quiet, tidy, hers. She didn't stay there often, but she came by every few days to keep it clean, and right now she was grateful for that. She sat down on the sofa and let herself replay five years of her life, of everything she'd given to Nathaniel Whitmore, and the tears came without permission. She cried until she had nothing left, and somewhere in that exhaustion, her mind cleared in a way it hadn't in months. Claire. Pull yourself together. That man was never worth what you gave him. Claire, you understand now, don't you? From this point forward, she would live for no one but herself. From this point forward, she'd be sharper, bolder, and freer than any man who thought he could hold her down. From this point forward, Claire Bennett belonged only to Claire Bennett. She'd eat well, live well, and let nothing weigh her down again. No matter how charming the next man might be, she wasn't going to fall for it twice. She was done collecting hearts one at a time from here on out, she intended to build herself an entire empire of admirers, and keep every single one of them exactly where she wanted them: nowhere near her heart.The next morning Claire woke to a quiet apartment and no one waiting for her. No one waited at her door after work either. She spent the evening getting ready for dinner with Marco, and she was halfway through her shower, covered in soap, when her phone buzzed on the sink.Ethan."Open the door," he said as soon as she answered. His voice was low and rough, and she heard something under it that wasn't his usual easy warmth."Ethan? You're here?""I'm outside. Please."She rinsed off, wrapped herself in a towel, and padded to the door. Ethan stood in the hallway in a black suit, tie pulled loose, looking tired in a way she had never seen. There were shadows under his eyes."Why didn't you call first?" she asked."I missed you." He started to reach for her, then stopped when she took a small step back. "Things have been hard at home. I haven't been able to get away.""I'm sorry. I didn't know." She tightened her grip on the towel and felt awkward about it. "Give me a minute to get dress
Claire got home after eleven, kicked off her heels, and found Lucas on her sofa with a glass of her whiskey and the stillness of a man who had been waiting a long time."You have a key," she said, hanging her coat. "Of course you do.""You embarrassed my cousin.""Your cousin held his menu upside down for twenty minutes." She crossed the room and took the glass from his hand. "You sent a spy to sit across from me, Lucas.""He's not a spy. He's family.""He's a twenty-five-year-old who looked miserable the entire time." She sipped the whiskey and handed it back. "If you wanted to know who I was having dinner with, you could have asked."His jaw tightened. "Would you have told me?""Probably not." She sat on the arm of the sofa, a smile tugging at her mouth. "But you'd have gotten a better evening out of the asking than out of the spying."He looked up at her. Under the composure she could see the thing he never said aloud: that he lay awake counting her men and hated the number."I don
Ethan had chosen a tiny rooftop restaurant with six tables, string lights, and a view of the whole glittering city. Claire arrived ten minutes late, in a green silk dress, with an apology already prepared. "Don't," Ethan said, standing to pull out her chair. "You'd cancel on a king for a better offer. I've made my peace with it." "That's a terrible thing to say." "Is it wrong?" She winced. "It's not entirely wrong." He laughed, and the knot in her chest loosened. He poured her wine, and for the first twenty minutes they talked about nothing: his gym's new yoga studio, her office's absurd new printer policy, the fact that she'd never once beaten him at arm wrestling. "Rematch," Ethan said, pushing aside the bread basket. "In a restaurant?" "I'll let you use both hands." She was winning, narrowly and by cheating, when a familiar voice behind her said, "Is this seat taken?" Claire turned. Hugo stood beside the next table with a menu under his arm and a look of perfect
The Ghost stopped outside Claire's building, and neither of them moved."Thank you for dinner," she said. "And for the dessert confession. I'll keep it to myself.""Please do." Hugo kept his eyes on the windshield. His ears were still faintly pink.Claire lingered with her hand on the door. She had expected him to try something, a lean-in or a hopeful remark about coming up. He only waited, patient and a little stiff.Curious, she thought. All that flirting in the parking lot, and now he's behaving like a gentleman."Goodnight, Hugo.""Goodnight, Claire."She went inside, and the door had barely closed when his phone lit up again. He answered with a sigh."You called six times.""Did she take the bait?" Lucas's voice was low and impatient. "Did you find out who she's seeing this week?""I found out she eats dessert like it's a competitive sport." Hugo leaned back against the headrest. "And that she's smarter than you gave her credit for.""Hugo.""She asked why a Cambridge graduate wa
Hugo decided to have a little fun at the gold digger's expense.He slid a hand to her waist, leaned in, and murmured, "Thank me? How do you plan to repay me?""Sitting this close, Ms. Bennett... do you like me?"With his other hand he lifted a strand of her hair and breathed it in. Their faces were an inch apart.He's taken the bait, Claire thought. She rested her fingers on his shoulder and let her mouth curve."How would Mr. Hayes like to be repaid?"Her lips hovered a centimeter from his. Her breath barely touched him.Hugo's pulse jumped, and he was annoyed at himself for it. She's a gold digger. She's collecting men like trophies. He kept his smile in place."What do you think?""How would I know, if you won't say?" she said, lowering her lashes.She's good, Hugo thought. He'd learned from Lucas's mistakes, though, so he pushed further. "Maybe you could offer yourself."Claire laughed, delighted by the nerve, and tapped a finger against his lips. "We've known each other one day.
Hugo walked toward a low-key, quietly luxurious white Rolls-Royce Ghost.Claire followed, and when he opened the door she caught her breath. She knew exactly what the car was. It looked understated, but it cost at least half a million dollars.Hugo Hayes, you're full of surprises.Is he a secret trust-fund kid who's come to the office to "experience real life"? Anyone who drove a car like that had no reason to work for a salary.He was already behind the wheel. Claire walked around to the passenger side in her white lace-up heels, got in, and buckled her seatbelt, studying the profile of the young man beside her."Hugo, what exactly does your family do? You drive this to work? Aren't you worried about people getting jealous?"He started the engine and turned the wheel without a hint of concern. "Is it that unusual? Would people be jealous?"Claire opened her mouth and closed it again. They clearly weren't on the same wavelength.A rich boy playing at having a job. I'd bet money on it.







