A flicker of guilt crossed Rosalind’s face before her eyes welled up right on cue.
“You think I did it?
Ethan, you’re taking her side over mine after everything you said about protecting me, about not feeling anything for her?”
Ethan sighed, exhausted.
“There’s a problem at the company, I’ll be working late for a while.
Mom won’t bother you here, so just rest.”
Once in the car, he told Priya, “Get in touch with the designer.
Order a new wedding dress, have it delivered as fast as possible.”
Priya glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
“For who?”
He frowned.
“For Claire, obviously.”
He understood Claire.
It was exactly because of how deeply she’d loved him that the dress had meant so much to her.
Even if she’d seemed hard as stone earlier, if any of those feelings were still intact, she had to be falling apart somewhere right now, crying alone.
The image of her eyes swollen, nose red from crying twisted something in his chest.
He shook the thought off.
“It’s not that expensive, ordering her a new one.
Call it damage control, so she doesn’t run back to Mom’s and stir up more trouble for me.”
He wasn’t entirely sure if he was talking to Priya, or just to himself.
Claire caught a cab out to a residential complex near Havenbridge University.
“Naomi, I’m here at Begonia Court.”
She stepped out of the car mid-call and spotted the real estate agent waving from a distance.
“Yeah, your cousin’s here already.
You don’t need to come, it’s just a walkthrough, I can handle it myself.”
Since deciding on the divorce, Naomi had already roped her cousin, a real estate agent, into helping Claire house-hunt.
Between years of savings and the payout from selling off her jewelry, buying near the Institute wasn’t out of reach.
“This building’s got two units per floor, about 1,400 square feet each.
The owner never moved in, everything’s brand new.
You could be living here tomorrow if you wanted.
Great view too, you can see the whole Havenbridge campus from the window.”
Claire walked the space and found it fit her taste exactly.
It was bigger than she strictly needed, and with some of her money still tied up in the market, she could only cover about half the down payment upfront.
But the alternative was going back to face Ethan and Rosalind every night, so getting settled fast no renovations needed sounded worth every penny.
“This one.
I’ll sign today.
Can you push the paperwork through quickly?
I want to move in this week.”
“Absolutely!”
After sorting out the apartment, Claire waited for Naomi to finish work, and the two grabbed dinner together, staying out past nine before Claire finally headed back to Ashford Manor.
Only a few lights were on when she got in, the living room empty.
She showered and settled in for the night.
Rain had started up again outside by the time she got out of the bathroom but something about the quiet in her room felt off.
She bolted upright in bed.
I haven’t seen Whisper since I got back.
She searched the whole room, then the hallway, and finally went looking for Aunt Nora.
“Whisper was in the living room when you left.
I was worried Miss Rosalind wouldn’t want a cat around, so I went to bring her up to your room, but Miss Rosalind said it was fine even played with her using a cat toy for a while.
Then Miss Rosalind drove off somewhere, and I got pulled into other things…”
Claire ran upstairs and pounded on the guest room door.
Rosalind opened it with a yawn, smiling faintly.
“Claire, what’s this about, so late?”
“Where’s my cat?”
Rosalind leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“This is your house.
Whisper is your cat.
Why are you asking me?”
That’s when Claire spotted the scratches on her arm and grabbed her wrist.
“What did you do to her?
Where is she?
Give her back!”
Claire had raised that cat for three years.
She knew exactly how gentle Whisper was; she’d never scratch anyone unless truly pushed to it.
Rosalind admired her manicure, unbothered.
“Guess I really am disabled but determined.
My memory’s terrible lately, I can’t quite recall which street I left that box on…”
Crack
Thunder split the sky, and the rain turned torrential in an instant.
The thought of that small, helpless kitten shivering somewhere out in the storm made it hard for Claire to breathe.
Rosalind glanced at her, smiling.
“Sorry, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.
It’s late, I’m going to bed.”
Claire blocked the door.
“I’m divorcing him.”
Rosalind laughed softly.
“You think that’s your call to make?
Here’s an idea: this house is getting a little cramped.
Three people is a crowd…”
“I’m moving out.”
She’d already found a place.
A few nights in a hotel until the paperwork cleared wouldn’t kill her.
Rosalind looked pleased for the first time all night.
“Cloudmere Road.”
The car had barely stopped before Claire shoved the door open and sprinted toward the cardboard boxes lining the street.
Thunder cracked overhead, wind howling, branches thrashing in the downpour.
The road had turned into a shallow river, reflecting the pale wash of headlights and the panic in Claire’s eyes.
The box was empty.
Soaked through, nearly disintegrating, with faint scratch marks visible along the cardboard.
Claire shouted Whisper’s name, working her way down the street, block by block, eventually turning back to Frank, who trailed behind her with an umbrella.
“Did you hear anything?
A meow, anything at all?”
Frank shook his head.
“Ma’am, we should head back for now.
In this rain, she’s probably found shelter somewhere.
It’ll be easier to search once it clears.”
Claire nodded, numb.
“Right.
Right, let’s go make flyers.”
She searched through the night, and by morning she’d papered Cloudmere Road with missing cat posters, hoping someone, somewhere, had spotted a small white cat.
No one had.
She came back to Ashford Manor clutching the ruined cardboard box, soaked to the bone, hair plastered to a face gone pale as paper looking every bit like something dragged out of a river.
Ethan and Rosalind were having breakfast in the living room.
Something twisted in his chest at the sight of her.
“Claire you got caught in the rain?”
A flash of jealousy crossed Rosalind’s face before she smoothed it over, hurrying to fetch a blanket to wrap around Claire’s shoulders.
“Claire, what happened?
Where were you all night?
Aunt Nora went to get you for breakfast and you weren’t in your room.
I assumed you’d gone to the Institute early!”
Ethan had worked late and slept at the office, only just getting back that morning.
Seeing the state Claire was in, he opened his mouth to ask what had happened
and then Claire’s hand cracked across Rosalind’s face.
“Rosalind!”
By the time Ethan lunged forward, Claire was already on top of her, slapping her twice more.
Rosalind screamed, “Ethan!
Help me, please!”
He hauled Claire off, pinning her against the edge of the dining table, restraining her by force.
“Have you lost your mind?
Since when do you hit people?
Do you have any decency left at all?!”
Claire’s hand landed on a bowl of porridge.
She grabbed it and hurled the contents straight at him.
He dodged mostly but a good half of it splattered across his collar anyway.
“Claire!”
Fury boiled up in him, on the verge of erupting until he saw the tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes.
The gauze on her forehead had come loose, blood mixing with tears down her cheeks.
She looked wrecked.
Helpless.
That’s when he actually noticed the wound.
His anger caught in his throat, replaced by something unfamiliar and uneasy.
“What,” he said slowly, “actually happened?”