Chapter 4

I was still caught in memories of my past life when Dana staggered toward me, eyes wild.

"Since you stole everything from me before, you can suffer for me this time," she hissed. "I'll take everything you care about."

She kept moving closer—then suddenly hurled herself backward.

"Ah! Claire, why did you push me?!"

Her forehead cracked against the floor, blood pouring instantly.

I didn't even get the chance to react.

A figure stormed into the room and slammed a kick into my side, sending me flying into the corner.

My back crashed against the cabinet, pain exploding up my spine as I collapsed, gasping on the floor.

Michael didn't even glance at me. He dropped to his knees beside Dana, scooped her up, and rushed to grab the first aid kit.

I coughed hard, body shaking as I tried to stand—but every time, I crumpled back down.

When he finally finished playing hero, Michael turned to me.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head up, forcing me to kneel in front of Dana.

"Claire Chevron," he growled, "I told you—if last time wasn't enough, I'll make sure you live through it again."

Then he slammed my head into the floor.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

For a second, I wondered if I'd already died, and all that remained was the piece of me that refused to rest.

"This is your punishment," he said coldly. "Next time you push Dana, I'll round up ten men to push you around."

Only then did he let go.

I collapsed to the floor, too broken to even lift my head.

Dana looked down at me, finally satisfied.

"Michael, don't blame Claire. It's my fault for not knowing better. If she lashed out at me, I probably deserved it."

Michael scoffed. "Dana is always so thoughtful. Claire, for her sake, I'll let it slide—THIS time. But next time? You know what'll happen."

He scooped her up and walked out. "We're going to the hospital. If that cut leaves a scar, it'll be a problem."

I didn't know how long I laid there, aching and useless, before I finally managed to move.

I didn't take anything with me. Just dragged my bruised body into a cab.

When it stopped in front of the Baillieu estate, I finally exhaled.

At least there, I'd be safe.

At least they could protect me.

***

Claire skipped Michael and Dana's wedding.

When he didn't see her in the crowd, it bugged him. He meant to call—ask where she'd gone. Never did.

It wasn't until after the vows that he finally asked,

"Where's Claire?"

At her name, the Chevrons stiffened.

"She's at the Baillieu estate," Mr. Chevron said. "Told us she's done here—her lamb's dead, and the guy she loved married her sister. You made your choice, Michael. Live with it. Quit chasing what's not yours."

Michael blinked.

"The lamb's dead? What?"

Mrs. Chevron squirmed in her chair. "That day... Dana insisted on eating it. I tried to stop her, but..."

Then it clicked. The lamb on the table.

The Chevrons never served lamb.

And Claire? She treated that lamb like family. Pregnant or not, no one touched it. Definitely not for dinner.

"I'm getting her back."

He ripped off his jacket, stormed toward the door—only for Mr. Chevron to clamp down on his arm.

"Michael. She's already married into the Baillieu family now. Let her go."

Michael's hand curled into a fist. Voice like ice. "What did you just say? ALREADY MARRIED?"