Chapter 4

Claire arrived at the Bennett estate around 11:40am. The butler was visibly startled when he saw her. He knew there was another guest expected, but didn’t expect it to be the young mistress. And thinking about how Lucas and Miss Morgan were in the living room right now, he broke into a cold sweat. Aside from the parents of both families and a few close aides like Ethan and him, no one else knew that Lucas and Claire were legally married. “This way, please,” he said, his voice a bit stiff. With no better choice, he followed Mrs. Bennett’s earlier instructions and forced himself to lead her in. Before they even reached the living room, a cheerful voice broke the silence: “Yay, I won again! Lucas, are you letting me win on purpose?” Claire stopped in her tracks. For a second, her mind went blank. But almost instantly, everything clicked into place. “Heh.” She couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh and walked right in. Since she came over to move some books, she hadn’t bothered with makeup and was casually dressed—just a loose white shirt and jeans. Her long hair was loosely tied back with a headband, a few strands falling in front of her face, adding softness to her striking features. Even dressed like this, her skin was flawless and fair, her eyes bright, and her lips a soft red. There was a kind of effortless beauty in her simplicity. In the living room, Lucas looked up and saw her walk in. Surprise flickered through his eyes. “What are you...” “Your mom told me to come,” she replied, her tone calm but laced with sarcasm. “Huh, weren’t you supposed to be in Hong Kong? When did you learn to teleport?” “…” Lucas averted his eyes, guilt flashing across his face. On the couch, Fiona immediately stood up and walked over to Claire, reaching out her hand provocatively. “Nice to meet you. I’m Fiona Morgan.” Claire didn’t even glance at her, treating her like she didn’t exist. Just then, Helen entered from outside. She gave Claire a quick look, then pulled Fiona closer with a warm smile. “Fiona, are you enjoying yourself? Make yourself at home, sweetie.” Then she turned to “introduce” Claire, a deliberate move. “This is Manager Richards from our company. I had something I needed to discuss with her.” It was no secret that Claire was Lucas’s wife. Calling her a mere company employee? That was a clear signal—she didn’t acknowledge Claire’s position in the family and wanted Fiona to know that Claire was nothing, just a nobody. Basically, Helen was saying the Morgan-Bennett match was totally obstacle-free. Fiona lifted her chin with a smirk. “Oh, so she’s just a company worker?” Claire didn’t respond to either woman. Her gaze was fixed on Lucas—just quietly watching him. She wanted to see if he’d say anything. But he kept that cold, unreadable look on his face, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He didn’t get it? No, he got it. He just didn’t care at all about how embarrassed she was."Mrs. Bennett, didn't you want to talk to me? Let's just do it here," Claire glanced over at her mother-in-law. “Never mind, another time then. But since you’re already here, stay for lunch.” “No thanks. I’ve got things to do,” Claire said, already turning to leave. Helen’s voice cut through the room, sharp and disapproving. “When an elder invites you to a meal, is that how you respond? Where are your manners?” Claire turned back around, her gaze cool and steady as she looked at Helen for a second. "Fine, I’ll stay. Just don’t regret it later." She walked over and picked a single seat. Fiona boldly sat beside Lucas, latching onto his arm. "Lucas, let’s keep playing, yeah?" Lucas pulled his arm away, eyes drifting toward Claire. Claire cast a glance at the elegant chess set on the table, though upon closer inspection—it wasn’t some grandmaster’s match at all, just a casual game. And Lucas had still managed to lose... Guess he still remembered how to play nice, just not with her anymore. She looked up at Lucas, a hint of sarcasm curling at her lips. "Sure do. You wanna play, Miss Morgan?" Lucas's face twitched ever so slightly, clearly annoyed, and his eyes warned her to back off. But Fiona was already resetting the pieces, full of confidence. "White or black?" Claire picked up the black king, rolling it between her fingers. "Black suits me." Move after move played out across the board. Helen, utterly biased, thought Fiona’s strategy looked sharp and deliberate, while Claire’s seemed almost careless, her pieces wandering without clear purpose. She didn’t scrutinize too closely, just shot Lucas a smug glance—See what a real strategist looks like? Lucas said nothing. As the game progressed, Fiona kept thinking she had the upper hand—only for Claire to intercept at the last moment. Her confidence wavered, frustration creeping in. Still, Claire wasn’t exactly dominating. At worst, it’d be a draw. A draw? Against Claire? That would be humiliating. "Your move," Claire said mildly. Fiona had her queen poised for a checkmate in three moves. Suppressing a grin, she slid her rook into position, eyes locked on Claire, praying she hadn’t noticed the trap. And—luck was with her—Claire moved a pawn elsewhere instead. Triumphant, Fiona declared, "Checkmate!" Helen immediately applauded, beaming. Then Claire’s fingers—slim and unhurried—lifted her knight and placed it gently on the board. Only then did they see it: Claire’s bishop and queen had already woven an inescapable net. Checkmate in one. Both of their faces went pale.