Chapter 2

His eyes were dark and unreadable. Hers? Completely lifeless. The garage felt like a vacuum—tense, suffocating. That girl? Still hanging shamelessly on Lucas, draping her arms around his neck like she owned the guy, whispering who-knows-what right into his ear like Claire wasn’t even standing there. Claire’s eyes stung just looking at them. She tore her gaze away, got in her car, and drove off without sparing them another glance. Not long after she got home, the familiar sound of an engine stirred the silence downstairs. Claire was in the walk-in closet, unclasping her necklace in front of the glass cabinet when suddenly, a tall, solid presence pressed up behind her. A wall of heat and tension. His scent filled the space around her. He braced his hands on either side of the cabinet, levering himself closer to catch her expression in the reflection. "You mad?" he asked, voice low. Claire didn’t even flinch. Carefully, she placed the necklace down, every movement steady. “Mad enough to kill someone. You might wanna keep your guard up,” she said, sounding almost indifferent. Lucas stared at her for a long beat before replying. “The Morgans want in on Polaris,” he began. “I’ve been in talks with Nathan Morgan. That girl is his sister.” Claire’s voice turned cold, eyes still avoiding his. “And what, if you don’t keep his sister entertained he takes the deal off the table?” "Claire, I’m trying to explain—don’t start with that passive-aggressive crap." “I don’t see the point of explaining,” she finally turned to look at him. Her gaze was sharp, calm, like she was looking right through him. “Lucas, if you’re tired of all this, want someone new running this house—I’m not stopping you.” Lucas’s face darkened instantly. “What did you just say?” “I said,” she sighed, “let’s just get a divorce.” She moved to walk away, but he caught her, yanked her back hard. His grip found her chin in a warning hold, his voice cold. “Don’t even think about it.” Claire stayed quiet. But the truth? She’d already thought about it. She was done. Lucas came home briefly that night, stayed till late, then left again after getting a call. Claire had clearly heard the soft, crying voice of a woman on the other end. The next morning, her lawyer—and longtime friend—sent her a screenshot: it was a new post from Lucas’s little girlfriend. A picture taken at the top of a mountain, two hands forming a heart—one big, one small—with the caption: “Feeling each other’s heartbeat under the tender morning sun.” She recognized that big hand instantly. Lucas’s. Claire sat frozen for a long time, water cup clutched in her hand. When she finally set it down, the glass hit the table with a sharp clink, as if something inside her had cracked and fallen away for good. For the next few days, Lucas still didn’t come home. The only time she saw him was during a company meeting—he sat at the head of the table, she was seated with other execs along the sides. No eye contact. No words. Claire didn’t bother going upstairs to find him.When she wasn’t busy apartment-hunting, Claire spent her time getting rid of all the gifts Lucas had given her over the years—anniversary presents, birthday surprises, Valentine’s Day stuff, even their wedding rings. Since the man was no longer in her life, what was the point in holding on to emotional junk? That night, Lydia invited her to hang out at a private club. It was already close to eleven, and Claire wasn’t really in the mood, but considering she’d just left Prosperon Group and was planning to start her own business, building more connections seemed necessary. So, she went. As soon as she stepped into the club, she spotted Lydia. “Lydia, no need to come down, I could’ve gone up myself,” she said. Lydia hooked her arm through Claire’s and pulled her into the elevator with a laugh. “I was worried you’d get lost. First time here, right?” She wasn’t wrong—Claire had never been to this place before. Once upstairs, Lydia led her into a large private room. In the middle stood an oversized folding screen, cutting the space in two. Claire noticed the noise and chatter coming from behind the screen. But Lydia didn’t take her there. Instead, she guided her to the side where only one other woman was seated. Claire vaguely recognized her—probably the girlfriend of one of Lucas’s buddies. The woman seemed to recognize Claire too. Though her smile held a trace of awkwardness, she still greeted her politely. After shedding her coat, Claire sat down. Lydia had already stepped out. She took a sip of the drink handed to her, and gradually, the lively voices from behind the screen became clearer. And then she heard her name. “Lucas doesn’t even bring Claire around anymore, huh.” “Well, duh. Miss Morgan’s young and cute. He treats her like she’s made of gold.” “About time Lucas switched things up after all these years.” “Sure, Claire’s a looker, but eight years? He’s probably tired of her.” “She’s kinda dumb though, stuck around for nothing. If Lucas is done with her, maybe I’ll take a swing. That waist of hers has been haunting my dreams for years.” Claire’s eyes turned ice-cold. She recognized at least two of those voices—guys who used to sweet-talk her every time they saw her. The woman sitting beside her looked so embarrassed, she didn’t even dare make eye contact. When Claire stood up, she probably thought she was going to bolt. But then Claire cleared her throat, held up her drink, casually walked over to the screen, leaned lazily against it, and interrupted their little gossip session with a relaxed voice, “Hey, let’s not twist the story too much. I mean, when Lucas got with me, he was still a shy little virgin. Can’t say I didn’t get my eight years’ worth, huh?” Silence. Everyone in the room stared at her like they’d seen a ghost. And just as those words left her mouth, two tall figures stepped into the room behind her. Everyone’s gaze jumped from her… to the door. And then the panic really set in.