Lucas quickly shrugged off his blazer and crouched to drape it over Fiona’s exposed figure.
Fiona was in full meltdown mode—sobbing, yelling—it was utter chaos.
"Claire Richards, get the hell out!" Lucas snapped, completely missing how pale her face had gone.
Snapping out of his shock, Ethan rushed to Claire’s side. "Are you okay?"
Claire clenched her teeth, eyes brimming. "Lucas, you honestly make me sick."
She shook off Ethan’s hand. Her legs could barely hold her, but she still forced herself to walk away.
Lucas felt a sharp pang in his chest. The look she just gave him—it felt final, like the door had shut for good.
And he panicked a little.
Ethan hesitated, then said, "Manager Richards... I think she hurt her back pretty badly."
Lucas’s eyes darkened.
He replayed how roughly he’d tugged at her earlier—how pained she looked. Without another word, and ignoring Fiona’s wailing, he bolt

When Olivia arrived, Claire was lying face down on the bed looking calm, but something about the way she lay there made her seem heartbreakingly fragile.
"What happened?" Olivia crouched beside the bed, speaking softly.
Claire focused her gaze slowly. The embarrassing scene in the elevator had somehow taken the edge off her earlier emotions—her mind had cleared. She quietly walked Olivia through everything that had happened at the company, keeping her voice steady the whole time.
But Olivia wasn’t calm—she was fuming.
"You’re still at the company, and that jerk couldn’t wait to bring that witch in to flaunt around? Broad daylight acting like animals, and then he dares to push you?!"
"He must be out of his damn mind! Not even trying to hide it anymore—shameless doesn’t even begin to cover it!"
"Claire, they’re throwing it in your face now. Are you really sure divorce is all you want?"
Cla

Lucas glanced at the metal barrel belching black smoke and frowned. “Why not just throw the trash away like a normal person?”
Claire didn’t even blink. “Burning it feels cleaner.”
Lucas’s brows pinched together.
They stood in silence in the gloomy yard as the last bit of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon.
Friday morning, Claire got a call from the dealership—her car was finally ready.
After picking it up, she remembered the suit issue just as she was about to call Kenneth.
She’d said she'd clean it and mail it back to him…
Thinking it over, she called, told him the car was fixed, then texted him the repair receipt. At the end, she tacked on: “By the way, kind of awkward, but do you know your boss’s height, weight, and maybe his measurements?”
She asked in such detail because suits came in sets. If the replacement jacket didn’t match the pants, it’d be awkward. He had kindly lent her his jacket; the least she could do was make sure the new one fit right—even if it meant adding some pants.
Kenneth: “…”
But the reply never came.
Maybe… even he didn’t know and needed to check?
She didn’t overthink it.
Driving through the next intersection, Claire got a call from the finance manager wanting to double-check some numbers.
With the cut on her forehead mostly healed, she turned around and headed back to the office.
After being gone for so many days, her reappearance sparked a mini parade of greetings from her team. She hadn’t told them about her resignation yet, and honestly, she felt bad. With her leaving, they’d have to break in a new boss all over again.
She stopped by finance for the data check, then buried herself in her office catching up on work. It wasn’t until late afternoon that she managed to prepare her resignation letter, planning to hand it in before clocking out.
But before she could, she headed to the breakroom for water—and overheard a conversation that made her stomach churn.
“Word from the secretarial department—Fiona Morgan from Anson Group started working here today. The boss gave her the office next to his.”
“Wait, are the Bennett and Morgan families joining forces through marriage?”
“Uh… isn’t Claire his girlfriend? What happens to her if that’s true?”
“…”
The group went silent, then began sipping their coffee and whispering about how shameless Fiona was, how awful Claire must feel, and how cold Lucas was turning out to be.
Claire just stood there outside, listening quietly.
After a while, she walked back with the empty cup, sat down, zoned out for a moment, then grabbed the printed resignation letter and headed upstairs.
Might as well end it now and move on.
As she approached the executive floor, Ethan rushed over to stop her, visibly uneasy. “Ms. Richards, the CEO’s in a meeting—now's not a good time.”Claire let out a soft "oh" as if she suddenly got it, then turned around as if she was about to leave. Just when Ethan relaxed a bit, she suddenly switched directions, her steps swift and graceful all at once.
She grabbed the doorknob, twisted it hard, and pushed the door open in one go.
Claire sometimes really couldn’t stand herself.
She’d already made up her mind to walk away from this man—so why still get pissed? Why put herself through another round of this mess just to feel worse? But people are like that, driven by emotion before logic—hard to keep it all in check sometimes.
"Aah—!"
A shriek broke the silence inside the office.
Fiona, draped only in a towel, was clinging to Lucas’s back. The sudden burst from the door had scared the living daylights out of her.
The smile froze right off Lucas’s face.
Ethan looked like he’d just seen a ghost, his hand slapped over his eyes. "Ms. Richards—this… this isn’t what you think—Ms. Morgan was sweaty from moving some files, so she… she just took a shower. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea, that’s why I—"
Claire shot him a glance like she couldn’t decide if she pitied him or just found it ironic. "Ethan, you’ve got a solid degree, a good resume, and you’ve ended up acting like some sketchy club host. What a waste."
With that, she looked away and stepped further inside the room.
"What’s your problem, Claire? Who do you think you’re throwing shade at? You’re just a manager, and you’re barging into the CEO’s office like you run the place? Don’t bother coming in tomorrow—you’re fired!" Fiona snapped, standing tall and trying to sound like she had power to back her words.
Claire walked over to the desk and placed a letter on it, her tone light and calm. "Already told you about my resignation. Gonna do some traveling, lots to prep, so yeah, I won’t be back starting tomorrow. But I’ll swing by later to handle handover stuff."
Lucas couldn’t quite meet her gaze. "Whatever you want."
Claire nodded. "Cool."
She glanced at Fiona, then back at Lucas. "Well then, guess I’ll leave you two to your… meeting?"
With that sarcastic undertone, she spun around and walked out.
Barely had she stepped into the hallway when Fiona’s shrill voice stabbed the air behind her. "Whether or not we continue, that’s none of your business! Claire, you really think you still matter? Lucas hasn’t loved you for a while now—he’s with me. We’ve spent so many nights—"
"Enough!" Lucas cut in, voice booming.
Claire took a slow breath.
She stiffened, then turned. "No, let her keep talking. I’m kinda curious how thick-skinned the Morgan daughter can get." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Fiona. "Loved or not, you’re still the side chick. The fact that I walked through that door means I can also expose you two for the trash you are. That clear enough?"
"You dare call me trash?!"
Fiona totally lost it and charged at Claire.
Claire didn’t flinch. She slapped Fiona straight across the face. When Fiona tried to come at her again, Claire yanked off the towel, forced her down, and shoved her hard to the floor, pinning her by the head.
Before she could even catch her breath, a force yanked her back fast.
She stumbled, her lower back hitting the desk corner with a thud. The pain shot up so sharply, her body went cold and she couldn’t even make a sound.

Lucas quickly shrugged off his blazer and crouched to drape it over Fiona’s exposed figure.
Fiona was in full meltdown mode—sobbing, yelling—it was utter chaos.
"Claire Richards, get the hell out!" Lucas snapped, completely missing how pale her face had gone.
Snapping out of his shock, Ethan rushed to Claire’s side. "Are you okay?"
Claire clenched her teeth, eyes brimming. "Lucas, you honestly make me sick."
She shook off Ethan’s hand. Her legs could barely hold her, but she still forced herself to walk away.
Lucas felt a sharp pang in his chest. The look she just gave him—it felt final, like the door had shut for good.
And he panicked a little.
Ethan hesitated, then said, "Manager Richards... I think she hurt her back pretty badly."
Lucas’s eyes darkened.
He replayed how roughly he’d tugged at her earlier—how pained she looked. Without another word, and ignoring Fiona’s wailing, he bolted after her.
“Olivia, I want to end it early. I just... can’t handle seeing his face anymore,” Clai

Chapter 9