All Chapters of Nothing But Pretend: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Claire leaves just like that—cleanly, decisively, without even a backward glance.Ethan remains where he is, standing in the parking lot long after her car disappears from view. A deep breath leaves his chest, slow and heavy, but it does nothing to calm the irritation simmering beneath the surface.Annoyance mixes with a growing sense of helplessness. This isn't how things are supposed to go.The driver has seen everything. He keeps his eyes forward, lips pressed together, silently applauding Claire in his heart. After all these years of watching his boss control every room he walks into, it's oddly satisfying to see someone walk away without hesitation. Karma, he thinks. Perfect timing.But the satisfaction lasts exactly two seconds. Because when he glances up, he meets Ethan's unreadable gaze in the rearview mirror."You look pleased," Ethan says, his tone calm but unmistakably cool. "Care to share what's making you so happy?"The driver freezes. If Ethan realizes he's enjoying this

Rain presses against the floor-to-ceiling windows, streaking the glass into long, crooked lines.Ethan sits on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, head heavy. He hasn't slept. He hasn't really been awake either. His mind drifts, uninvited, back to months ago—back to the time when everything felt inconvenient, irritating, and painfully easy to dismiss.Back then, his grandfather had found out that he wasn't living in the Maple Ridge Residence.The fallout had been brutal. A hospital stay. And so, after discharge, his grandfather had settled himself into the estate and stayed there for three full months, watching Ethan like a hawk.Three months.Every single night, Ethan went back. Every single night, he crossed paths with Claire.There was one night in particular. He remembers it now with uncomfortable clarity.He had been drinking. It was raining just like this. He told the driver to take him back to the estate, even though it was already past midnight. By the time the car pulled

This week, Claire has been eating well and sleeping soundly. She is wearing absolutely no makeup, yet she looks radiant. It is an intuitive, striking kind of beauty.Ethan notices it immediately. In fact, he noticed it the very first time he saw her.That was years ago, back when Mr. Lowe was celebrating his birthday in that small, remote town where he had met his first love. When his grandfather ordered him to visit Reed's house, Ethan didn't know the reason. He just thought it was ridiculous—a billionaire patriarch pining over a village crush like a soap opera character.Their first meeting took place in the courtyard of that old house.Claire was coming down from the second floor. She moved like a spirited squirrel, trotting down the stairs, humming an unknown little tune.Ethan stopped, guessing this was the granddaughter.When Claire saw him, she froze. She stood there, stunned into silence. Ethan, ever the gentleman on the surface, offered a polite, practiced smile. "Hello."He

The silence in the car is heavy.Just yours.The words vibrate against Claire's skin. For a heartbeat, she forgets to breathe. She stares at the man kneeling before her, searching for the lie. But his eyes are dark and steady.Panic flares in her chest. Claire jerks her foot back, tucking it under her dress. "Drive faster," she orders, her voice trembling.Ethan doesn't push her. He simply sits back, his gaze lingering on her profile, burning a hole through her defenses.When the sedan stops at the hospital, Ethan moves to scoop her up."Don't touch me," Claire hisses, pushing him away. "I have legs."Ethan frowns but drops his hands. He watches her stubborn, limping figure march toward the ER. Then, his expression shifts from tender to icy. He pulls out his phone.In the front seat, the driver shrinks back. He glances at the rearview mirror and sees a distinct, red handprint blooming on his boss's cheek.He swallows hard. Madam is legendary. She slapped the CEO of the Lowe Group, and

Ethan actually goes into the kitchen.From the living room, Claire hears the clatter of pans and her mother's boisterous laughter. At first, her mother tries to shoo him out, but Ethan says something low and charming, and soon her mother is laughing so hard the windows rattle.Claire has always hated her mother's loud voice. But Ethan? He stays in there, patient and smiling, playing the perfect son-in-law.Fine, Claire thinks, throwing herself onto the sofa. If he wants to work, let him work.She scrolls through her phone, the familiar sounds of her childhood home lulling her into a daze. Before she knows it, her eyelids grow heavy, and she drifts off.In her dream, she is floating. Strong arms lift her up, carrying her upstairs. The scent is familiar—woodsmoke and expensive cologne.She is placed gently onto a bed.Ethan stands by the bed, watching Claire sleep.This is Claire's room. It is the first time he has ever been inside. For the past two years, he treated visits here like bu