Ethan flipped the box open and shoved it toward her.
“Look for yourself.”
Claire’s eyes landed on the words property transfer, and the panic in her chest finally began to settle.
It wasn’t the divorce agreement.
The staff bought these velvet boxes in bulk, no wonder she’d mistaken it.
She picked up the documents and skimmed through them.
A downtown apartment, worth more than six million, currently registered under Ethan’s name and now being signed over to hers.
His signature was already on it.
She blinked, confused.
“This was already meant for you,” Ethan said, voice low.
“Even after how unreasonable you were last night, I still didn’t want to be petty about money.
So how did it end up like this?”
Claire’s brow creased.
“End up like what?”
He slammed his palm on the desk.
“Did you go crying to my mother last night?!”
“I actually agreed with Rosalind I shouldn’t have scolded you in front of everyone like that.
I had this place drawn up as an apology.
And you didn’t say a word to my face, and then you turn around and run straight to the old house to complain?
How could you possibly think what you’re thinking about me and Rosalind?
My brother just died.
I’ve been taking extra care of her because of that.
Why are you being this small about it?”
“You know how Mom is.
She had Rosalind dragged to the estate first thing this morning and made her kneel a full half hour.
If I hadn’t gotten word and rushed over, her knees would’ve been swollen solid!”
Something in Claire’s mind ground slowly, rusty and reluctant.
“Half an hour…
that must have hurt a lot.”
“You’re damn right it hurts!”
Ethan grabbed the documents, tore them apart, and threw the pieces at her feet.
“Claire, I had you wrong.
This was never about manners or apologies, you’re just spoiled.
Ungrateful.
People are good to you and you can’t even manage the bare minimum in return.
Forget the gift.
It’s off.”
A maid knocked.
“Sir, Miss Rosalind’s arrived.
Should we bring her things in?”
Ethan shot Claire a cold look.
“Mom’s made things impossible for her at the estate, so she’ll be staying here for a while.
Think twice before you run to the old house again, Claire.”
He walked out.
From downstairs, Claire could hear Rosalind’s voice mixed with the sound of furniture being shifted around.
Everything felt wrapped in fog.
Or maybe her implant was glitching again.
Either way, the air felt too thick to breathe.
Meow
Whisper rubbed against her ankles, rolled onto her back, and pawed at the hem of her skirt.
Tears fell before Claire even realized they’d started.
She wiped her face, scooped Whisper up.
“You can’t go to study, sweetheart.
Let’s go back to the room.”
The house rattled with noise for most of the day Rosalind, apparently, had moved in with everything she owned.
Claire stayed in her room, packing books off the shelves into boxes, along with clothes she hadn’t worn in a while.
She’d originally planned to have Naomi help her move, but given the state of things, she decided to just ship everything directly instead.
Better than risking Naomi and Ethan colliding head-on.
She’d move out the second she found somewhere suitable.
Living under the same roof as Rosalind she could already picture exactly how the coming days would go.
She was mid-packing when Aunt Nora knocked and stepped in.
“Ma’am…”
“What is it?”
“Miss Rosalind’s asking for chicken soup…”
Claire frowned.
“Have the kitchen make it.”
Aunt Nora hesitated.
“She said your cooking’s better.
The master…
he wants you to make it yourself.”
Claire smiled.
So that’s the plan.
If Rosalind got sick off something Claire cooked, Ethan wouldn’t stop at tearing up paperwork.
He’d tear her apart.
“I’m busy, I have to be at the Institute later.
If she’s unhappy with the staff, she can order takeout.
Or Ethan can hire a chef from The Gilded Fork to cook here.”
Aunt Nora scurried off to relay the message.
Once the box was sealed, the courier she’d arranged arrived to collect it.
She and a maid carried her things downstairs, settled the payment, and headed back upstairs where Claire found her wedding dress lying on the floor.
A hole the size of a bowl torn through the fabric.
Rosalind sat on the sofa in Claire’s room, eyebrows arched slightly.
“I’m so sorry I only wanted to take it out and look at it, but my legs were sore from kneeling all day and I tripped.
You’re not upset, are you?”
Her mouth said sorry.
Her face said what are you going to do about it.
Claire studied her quietly, something sharp and amused flickering in her eyes.
“So this is what they mean by disabled but determined.
Learn something new every day.”
Rosalind sneered.
“Disabled but determined?
My leg’s just sore.
Unlike your ear”
“I wasn’t talking about legs,” Claire said, calm.
“I meant the brain.”
Rosalind’s face froze, temper flaring until she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned instantly tearful.
“Claire, I only wanted to say I never meant to make things hard for you.
You really don’t have to cook anything.
Why would you tear up your own wedding dress just to make a scene with me?”
Ethan walked in the next second.
“What now?”
Rosalind limped toward him, eyes brimming.
“Claire’s still upset.
She won’t cook for me, and she said I was…
she said I was…
and then she tore up her own wedding dress!”
A well-placed pause always did more damage than a direct accusation.
Ethan’s anger visibly spiked, on the verge of erupting
Until the second half of the sentence landed.
“Wedding dress?”
He walked past her, spotted the dress on the floor, and his anger evaporated instantly.
Hand-stitched lace, custom-made he’d commissioned it himself for their wedding.
Claire had treasured it for years, kept it centered in her closet, had it professionally maintained annually.
Two years ago, Whisper had accidentally snagged the lace embroidery a tear smaller than a fingernail and Claire had cried over it for an entire day.
She’d sat on the sofa that night, the dress in her lap, eyes red, waiting for him to come home and ask if it could still be saved.
Like a peach blossom about to drop its petals.
He’d tracked down a designer to fix it.
It took over a month to come back.
He remembered standing in the doorway, watching her slip the dress back on, spin once in front of Whisper, and finally, finally smile.
“Listen up, cat you are never touching this dress again.
This is Mommy’s most precious thing in the world.
It’s the trophy from the day her dream came true.
Understood?”
Meow~
And now there was a hole big enough to put a fist through.
He couldn’t imagine how much she’d cry over this one.
“Claire, I’ll have Priya run it to the designer.
It should still be fixable”
“No.”
Claire picked the dress up off the floor, grabbed the scissors still sitting out from sealing boxes, and started cutting.
“Claire!”
Ethan’s hand shot out on instinct, catching her wrist and then froze.
The girl who’d once cried for a full day over a fingernail-sized tear was looking at the ruined dress now with something flat and distant in her eyes, like it was nothing more than an old rag.
Something in his chest twisted, sharp as a needle.
A vague, sinking feeling that something valuable was slipping through his fingers.
“Claire, don’t do this.
This was your favorite thing in the world.”
“I’m not being difficult.
The hole’s too big to fix, no need to even ask.
Might as well toss it and stop having to look at it.”
Not just the dress.
The marriage too.
She pulled free of his grip and just as the scissors slipped from her hand, Ethan lunged and grabbed for them.
Hiss
Blood welled up fast, staining the dress a deep, spreading red.
“Ethan!”
Rosalind snatched his hand immediately.
“You’re bleeding, let me take care of it.”
He was pulled away, and Claire finished cutting the dress apart herself, handing the scraps to a maid to throw out.
Wanting nothing more to do with either of them, she grabbed her coat and left.
Rosalind wrapped Ethan’s hand, murmuring, “Claire’s young, it’s understandable she has a temper.
It’s fine if she snaps at me a little but destroying a dress that expensive really does feel excessive…”
“Rosalind.” Ethan cut her off, voice cool.
“I have no problem with you wanting to stake your claim.
Just don’t come after her things, to do it.”
Rosalind blinked.
“What?”
His eyes darkened.
“I know Claire.
She would never destroy that dress herself.
Not that one.”
“I’ve told you already she’s a little sister to me, nothing more.
You’re the only one I love, and I’ll protect you no matter what it costs me.
So there’s no reason for you to be tearing up her belongings.”