Claire pushed through the crowd to Ethan’s side and gave his sleeve a gentle tug.
“Your mother wants you to go sit with Grandma.”
Rosalind grabbed his other sleeve, eyes brimming.
“Ethan, don’t go…”
Ethan caught the swaying Rosalind against him and shot Claire a look of open irritation.
“Mom sent for me, and you came instead of going yourself?
Use your eyes, Claire.
Rosalind can barely stand from crying.
What happens to her if I walk away right now?”
Claire repeated, evenly, “She wants me to look after my sister-in-law.”
“So you just do whatever she says?
Claire, are you deaf?
Did you not hear me say Rosalind can’t be left alone?”
He said it loud enough that a few of the uncles nearby turned to look.
“That’s the one Ethan fought so hard to marry?
Ordinary family, deaf since childhood, and I heard even the implant barely helps.”
“What did the Ashfords do to deserve this…
the eldest son gone, and the second one married to a deaf girl.
Fine if we never have to see her, but she has to show up and embarrass us today of all days.”
The murmurs threaded through the rain and landed like needles in Claire’s chest.
As a child, people had called her “the deaf girl,” and Ethan used to pin them to the ground and beat them bloody for it.
Later, the same kids just took their cruelty underground instead and even then, it hadn’t touched her.
Because Ethan had told her once: “Claire, don’t be scared.
From now on, I’ll be your ears.”
Now he was standing in front of everyone, snapping, “Are you deaf?”
Claire looked down.
Rain had darkened the hem of her black dress barely visible, but she could feel the cold soaking through to her legs regardless.
Rosalind’s soft voice broke the silence.
“Ethan, she was only passing along a message from your mother.
Why take it out on her?
Look at you, you’re shaking.
Go see your grandmother, Claire can stay with me.
She’ll take care of me.”
A few gentle words from Rosalind, and Ethan’s temper cooled instantly.
He glanced back at Claire, following the shape of Rosalind’s suggestion black velvet dress, dark hair pulled back, eyes fixed on the hem of her skirt like she might be crying from being yelled at.
Something in his chest pulled, unreasonably.
He thrust the umbrella into her hand, annoyed.
“Hold it steady.
Rosalind cannot get wet, her health can’t handle it.”
The second Ethan walked off, Rosalind’s tears vanished.
She turned, voice sugar-soft.
“Claire, I had a bit of a cough last night, so Ethan came by to look after me.
You’re not upset, are you?”
So that was the “emergency” at the old house, Claire thought.
“He’s so attentive.
Made me pear soup himself, wouldn’t let me sleep until I finished the whole bowl.
Your aunt Nora called him and he didn’t even pick up, didn’t want anything disturbing my rest.
Did you need something from him?”
“Claire?
Can you hear me?
Did your implant break again?”
Claire met Rosalind’s sweet, patient smile and understood exactly what was happening.
She was being mocked.
Because she was quiet, because her speech came slow, people assumed gentle.
Obedient.
Nobody ever guessed that underneath it she had a viper’s tongue in a sloth’s body.
“I can hear you fine.
Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”
Under Rosalind’s expectant gaze, Claire asked, perfectly calm: “Where did that bag of spoiled pears from the kitchen end up?”
“You”
“Ah, so that’s what went into the soup.
Makes sense, rotten fruit only gets softer once you cook it.”
Rosalind’s nails bit into her own palm.
Ethan always said Claire was the sweetest, most obedient thing alive.
Clearly that little brat had everyone fooled.
“Claire.
Tell me honestly who does Ethan believe, you or me?”
“What?”
Claire’s hand was suddenly wrenched, hard.
She yanked it back on instinct and Rosalind cried out, stumbling backward down the cemetery steps.
“Rosalind!”
Ethan’s voice tore through the crowd.
He shoved past Claire, knocking her to the ground, and she scraped her palm hard against the rough stone.
He scooped Rosalind up and rushed her to the hospital without waiting for the urn to even be lowered into the ground.
After the funeral, Claire went to the hospital herself to get her palm looked at.
The cut was deep, embedded with gravel.
While the doctor cleaned the wound, she scrolled through her phone.
The first thing that loaded was Rosalind’s latest post a photo taken from inside a princess-carry, showing off her bandaged ankle and a large hand with sharp knuckles cradling the back of her knee.
The wedding ring on that hand burned straight through Claire’s eyes.
Caption: No matter how hard life gets, someone will always be there to carry you.
That’s when her best friend, Naomi Reyes, burst into the room.
“I came the second I saw your text.
What happened?
Weren’t you just at a funeral how did you end up hurt?”
After settling the bill, Claire brought Naomi to the café across the street and gave her the short version of the last two days.
“Naomi.
I want a divorce.”
Naomi’s eyes went glassy immediately.
“Claire…
are you sure?”
She’d watched Claire love Ethan for ten years.
Nobody understood the weight of that better than she did.
Claire’s gaze dimmed.
“Yes.
I’ve given it everything I had, and he still doesn’t love me.
I’m done pouring myself into someone who’ll never pour anything back.”
Naomi slammed a fist on the table.
“Then we get you out!
Claire, you are so much better than this Ethan is the idiot here, not you.
Someone better is waiting, I promise you.”
Claire managed a small smile.
“Yeah.
There’s always someone better.”
Then, without warning, tears spilled down her face.
Her voice cracked.
“Naomi…
my hand hurts so bad.”
Naomi grabbed both her hands and blew gently across the bandage.
“Don’t cry.
Don’t cry.
I’ve got you.”
Tears slid down her own cheeks too.
After coffee, the best divorce attorney in Havenbridge arranged by Naomi arrived, and Claire laid out her situation plainly.
She and Ethan had grown up together, but their worlds had never actually matched.
He was the heir to the Ashford empire.
She was the daughter of the family’s longtime groundskeeper.
She had no leverage to fight the Ashfords in court over assets, and if she pushed too hard, the family wouldn’t hesitate to crush her.
She just wanted out clean, and fast.
“Ms.
Whitman, this is the agreement drafted to your specifications.
One thing to keep in mind after the mandatory thirty-day waiting period, Mr.
Ashford will still need to appear in person at the registrar’s office to finalize it.”
“Understood.
Thank you.”
Claire signed her name, tucked the agreement into her bag, and headed back to Ashford Manor where Ethan’s Rolls-Royce sat waiting in the courtyard.
The window rolled down.
Rosalind’s face appeared, composed into a faint, satisfied smile.
“Claire.
I spoke to Ethan for you.
He won’t hold the fall against you.”
Claire answered, unhurried.
“He was busy carrying your full weight.
Hard to see how I’d have had the chance to push you.”
“You”
Rosalind’s face drained of color.
She’d made sure that post was set to private, visible to Claire and no one else certain it would finally break her.
She hadn’t expected this much bite from someone she’d spent years underestimating.
“Ethan’s moving in with me for a while.
Didn’t he mention it?”
Claire’s eyes flickered.
She walked past the car and into the house, where Ethan was coming down the stairs, his assistant Priya trailing behind with two packed suitcases.
Priya greeted her “Mrs.
Ashford” and kept carrying bags out to the car.
Ethan’s eyes met Claire’s, and something uneasy flickered across his face for half a second.
“Claire, I won’t be around for a few days.
Business trip.”
She wanted, badly, to call out the obvious lie right there.
But she couldn’t afford the fallout of a scene in front of everyone.
Instead, she just asked, “Will you be back before our anniversary?”
It was next week.
By then Ethan’s composure had fully returned.
“Doubt it.
Pick out a gift price doesn’t matter.
Consider it compensation.”
“I already told you what I wanted.
A storefront.
I found one.
All you need to do is sign.”
Claire pulled a folder from her bag the divorce agreement tucked inside and held it out to him.
“Every page needs your signature.”