When Naomi got back and spotted the bruise on Claire’s arm, she assumed the worst and immediately started gearing up to confront Ethan herself.
Claire pulled her aside and walked her through the entire plan unfolding at Ashford Manor.
“So this time you didn’t just take Rosalind down you also blew up Ethan’s investment deal?”
Claire, cradling a warm mug of milk, watched Naomi pace back and forth.
“Wenyan I mean, Naomi I got a little hurt this time, sure.
But honestly?
I’m happy.”
I used to think if I can’t afford to challenge them, at least I can stay out of their way.
But people determined to make my life difficult were never going to leave me alone just because I kept my head down.
So I might as well take the bet.
When she’d first been taken in by the Ashfords, she’d had nothing.
Worst case, she’d get sent back to the orphanage.
So she’d lived every day careful, cautious, grateful just to end up compromised into the Whitman household under Ethan’s protection.
Now she is divorced, sitting on more than ten million in cash.
Miles ahead of where she’d started as a kid.
Why wouldn’t she take a real shot now?
Naomi practically pounced on her, eyes locked in.
“Claire, this is who you’re supposed to be!
I remember you as a kid you’d fight, you’d curse people out, you were bruised half the week.”
“People like us, no parents watching our backs, we survive because we fight for it ourselves.
There’s no other option.”
“How’s that saying go?
Wildfire can’t kill it.
Spring wind brings it right back.”
Claire raised her mug, clinking it against Naomi’s.
“To the wildgrass.”
The warm milk slid down her throat, and Weston’s words from the night before surfaced in her head.
At least as a kid, I dared to bare my teeth.
From now on, she decided, the fangs stay out.
The next day.
Naomi lined up several job interviews, while Claire went back to the Institute as usual.
After work, the two met up at the mall.
“You wanted to buy a men’s shirt?”
Claire walked into a menswear store.
“Yeah Weston helped find Whisper before, and I never properly thanked him.
And now she’s ruined one of his shirts on top of it.
It feels right to replace it.”
Naomi thought back to that night outside the police station Weston showing up out of nowhere, then disappearing just as fast and felt something stir.
“Wasn’t Weston staying with the Ashfords for a few years as a kid?
You two basically grew up together, right?”
Claire, browsing racks, answered absently.
“I guess.
He was a few years older, though.
Brilliant, skipped grades constantly moved up to middle school while I was still in elementary, high school while I was in middle school, went abroad right as I started high school.”
“He was quiet, kept to himself even back then.
Only really close with Ethan and Julian.
I could count our actual conversations on one hand.”
Back when he’d left for university abroad, out of some lingering sense of connection, she’d spent weeks learning to knit, making him a scarf as a goodbye gift.
She’d only ever knitted two scarves in her life.
One went to Ethan.
The other to Weston.
The day after Weston left the country, she’d found her scarf sitting in the Ashfords’ trash.
She’d asked Ethan about it, his was still folded neatly in his closet.
Which meant it had been Weston who’d thrown him away.
If he didn’t want it, fine hand it back.
Why toss it out entirely?
It had only confirmed what she already suspected: Weston disliked her, for reasons she never understood and never got the chance to ask.
Because after that, their paths simply never crossed again.
Until now.
“Claire?
Where’d you go?”
Claire snapped back.
“Just thinking since I’ve already returned everything Ethan gave me, I should get back the things I made for him too.
No point letting good effort go to waste.”
Naomi nodded fiercely.
“Absolutely.
Every handmade thing comes back.
That’s your hard work, not his to keep.”
Amused, Claire picked a dark, subtly patterned shirt off the rack and handed it to the sales associate.
“I’ll take th..”
A hand shot out and snatched it away.
That familiar voice hit Claire’s ears, instant nausea rising.
Naomi rounded immediately.
“Rosalind, are you a leech?
Following us around the mall now?
There are a hundred shirts in here.
Why does it have to be the exact one Claire picked?
Do you physically need to be this insufferable every single day?”
Rosalind clutched the shirt, addressing the sales associate.
“Did she pay for it yet?”
“…Not yet.”
Rosalind produced a card.
“Then it’s not stealing, is it?
If she hasn’t paid, it’s still up for grabs.
I’ll take it right now.”
The associate caught the name embossed on the black, no-limit card Ethan Ashford and moved fast to process it, not about to question a card like that.
Claire’s voice cut through, cold and clear.
“My husband’s brother just died, and his widow is out shopping for men’s shirts?
Curious who that’s for.”
The store was upscale, quiet, the kind of place where customers browsed in low murmurs.
Which made the scene stand out sharply.
When Naomi had started cursing a moment ago, other shoppers had barely glanced over just two women fighting over a shirt, easy to ignore.
Claire’s line changed that instantly.
Every head in the store turned.
Now this is interesting.
Rosalind felt the weight of every stare and forced her composure back into place.
“What business is it of yours who I buy this for?
I like the shirt.
Is that a crime?
Do I need your permission to shop?”
Claire smiled, faint.
“In this case yes, actually.
That card belongs to my husband.
Which makes it our shared property.
So buying a men’s shirt with it is very much my business.”
The crowd inched closer.
Wait what’s happening here?
The sister-in-law’s using her brother-in-law’s card to buy him a shirt, and the wife just caught her red-handed?
This had the makings of a full scandal.
Rosalind’s face twitched.
She hadn’t expected Claire to actually air this in public.
She’s supposed to know her place, humble background, keep quiet, and play the cover story.
How dare she rip the mask off in front of everyone.
What Rosalind didn’t know: Claire had made her peace with all of it the moment she’d watched Whisper and Naomi both take hits meant for her.
And she had Margaret’s blessing behind her now.
Margaret’s exact words: You don’t need to play nice.
Every time that vixen starts something in front of you, escalate right alongside her.
The bigger the mess, the clearer Ethan’s intentions become to everyone watching.
It was practically a free pass.
What did she have left to be afraid of?
Claire pointed at the name on the card in the associate’s hand.
“Ethan Ashford is my husband.
This card belongs to our household.
My sister-in-law has been staying with us recently.
I honestly can’t say whether he authorized her to use it.”
The associate’s face went pale.
Stolen?
If I ring up a card that isn’t hers and someone comes looking, I’m out of a job.
“Ma’am could I interest you in a different payment method?”
Three sentences.
That’s all it took for Claire to turn the entire store’s attention on them and get the card flatly refused.
What a venomous mouth, Rosalind thought, seething.
But then it occurred to her she’d built her own place in this family from nothing, so why should Claire’s word carry any more weight than hers?
She swallowed the fury and sneered instead.
“Claire, are you that desperate for a man you’ve lost your mind?
Your husband?
What exactly makes you think Ethan belongs to you, or that this card is your family’s property?
Prove it.
Show everyone your marriage certificate, if you’re so sure.”
The second she finished, a voice rang out from the direction of the VIP room, clear and unmistakable.
“I can prove it.”