"Nothing." Claire shoved the paper into her pocket and kept walking, refusing to glance back.

Behind her, Finley called out, "You've got a checkup in a few days, right? Once I deal with Renee, I'll come with you to the hospital."

Her steps faltered, tears slipping down despite her best effort to hold it together.

"We'll see," she said, turning to face him. "But, Finley? Your five chances are up."

"What?" He frowned. "Claire, come on. That was a joke. I never took it seriously—neither should you. Once Renee's hand heals, I'll come back to you. To the baby."

A flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes, but it wasn't enough to stop him from turning back to Renee, guiding her carefully as they left.

Claire watched him go, her heart hollow but her mind resolute. 'That's it, Finley. Your five chances are gone. You'll never get another one.'

Downstairs, she went to pay the hospital bill. While waiting in line, dizziness hit her like a wave, and she stumbled.

A nurse rushed over. "Miss, you look pale. Why are you handling this alone? Where's your husband? Here, let me help you."

"Thanks."

The nurse's kindness was a tiny spark in the icy weight pressing on her chest. A stranger noticed her struggle, yet Finley? His eyes were glued to Renee, blind to everything else.

Claire spent three days in the hospital. Not a single call from Finley.

She doubted he'd even gone home.

"Claire, I'm here to check if you're ready for discharge," the doctor said, walking in with a small group. They examined her while chatting amongst themselves.

"Did you hear? Renee Slutsky, the big celebrity, was here. Burned her hand, I think."

"Just a minor burn. She didn't even need to stay. She left earlier today."

"Who was that guy with her? He's gorgeous! Is he her boyfriend?"

"Not sure, but he treated her like she was the only person on the planet. Lucky girl."

...

Every word hit Claire like a gut punch. Unreal. She was Finley's wife, and he'd spent three days in the same hospital glued to someone else.

"Ms. Carlson, you're all set to go. Is anyone picking you up?"

The doctor's voice was careful, curious. No one had visited her. She'd been completely alone.

"No one." Claire got out of bed, packing her things without a glance at the group.

"Some people really have it tough," one of them muttered as they left.

When Claire got home, the smell of pumpkin soup greeted her. In the kitchen, Finley stood wearing an apron, stirring the pot.

In three years of marriage, she'd never seen him cook. For a second, she wondered if he was trying.

But the moment he saw her, he didn't even let her settle in.

"Why are you just now getting back? You're four or five months pregnant—why are you running around? Can't you just stay home and rest?"

Claire froze, biting back the urge to snap. She wasn't even three months along. Did he even know that?

She let it go. She was too tired for another fight. She turned toward the stairs, all she wanted was to sleep.

Before she reached them, a bright, chirpy voice called out.

"Finley, is the soup ready? I'm starving!"

Claire's eyes narrowed. 'He brought her home.'

"Almost done, little foodie. Come eat," Finley said, setting a bowl of pumpkin soup on the table.

He slid another bowl toward Claire.

"You should eat too," he added.

Claire didn't move. "Why is she here?"

Renee turned to her, all fake sweetness. "Claire, my house is being renovated, and I had nowhere else to go. Finley was kind enough to let me stay. You don't mind, do you?"

Finley waved it off. "Don't worry about it. This is my house, not hers. I don't need her permission."

Finley owned plenty of properties, but only one had Claire's name on it—a house in the next neighborhood. The Lloyd family gave it to her when they found out she was pregnant.

Now, with the divorce looming, Claire just wanted some peace. She didn't care if it was Finley or Renee; she wasn't in the mood to deal with either of them.

"Isn't there a house in the neighboring community?" she asked coolly. "Why not let Miss Slutsky stay there? It'd be more convenient."

Finley frowned, caught off guard. "That's your house."

"If she needs it, she can use it," Claire said flatly before turning to head upstairs.

"You're not having any pumpkin soup?" Finley called after her.

"No."

She hated pumpkins—and pumpkin soup most of all.

When she came back down later, the living room was empty except for Emma, the maid, who was clearing the table.

"Mrs. Lloyd, Mr. Lloyd and Miss Slutsky went to the house in the neighboring community," Emma said quietly.

"Okay," Claire replied, barely glancing up.

Not long after, her phone buzzed. It was Finley.

"I'm not coming home tonight. Renee's afraid of the dark, so I'll stay here with her."

"Alright."

Claire's calm reply threw Finley off. Feeling a flicker of guilt, he tried again. "I'm sorry, Claire. Renee's still like a kid—afraid of the dark, scared of ghosts. I can't leave her alone. Tomorrow's your birthday. I'll be back to celebrate, okay?"

"Okay." Claire didn't bother with anything else and hung up.

She glanced around the house, her eyes settling on the walls. They were covered with pictures of children—Finley's mother's doing. She'd put them up to encourage Claire during her pregnancy. Paulina had even brought endless herbal remedies to help her conceive.

It hadn't been easy. Claire had struggled to get pregnant, taking those remedies for months before it finally happened. But now the baby was gone, and so was her marriage. Those pictures didn't mean anything anymore.

Claire stood on a chair and started ripping them down, one by one.

Emma gasped. "Mrs. Lloyd, what are you doing? Please be careful—you should think of the baby!"

"It's fine."

She tore every last photo off the wall, stuffed them into a garbage bag, and handed it to Emma. "Throw this out."

Then she picked up her phone and called Raoul, her lawyer, asking him to come over the next day.

By the time Raoul arrived, he had already drafted a contract based on her instructions.

"Ms. Carlson, are you sure you don't want anything?" he asked.

"Yes, nothing at all."

She wanted no ties to Finley. The house, the car, the money—it wasn't worth it. She had her own means and didn't need anything from him.

"Alright. Take a look. If it's good, I'll print it out."

"Thank you. Let me know when it's ready for me to sign. And don't mention the divorce to Finley yet."

"Got it." Raoul hesitated, like he had something to say, but left it alone.

Just as Raoul was leaving, Finley walked in.

Raoul had been handling some business for his company, so seeing him here caught Finley off guard. "What are you doing here?"

"Mrs. Lloyd asked me to stop by," Raoul said smoothly before slipping out.

Finley turned to Claire. "Why was Raoul here?"

"Nothing important."

She glanced at him briefly. He looked worn out, with dark circles under his eyes.

"Didn't sleep well last night?" she asked casually.

"Renee wanted to watch horror movies," Finley said with a small laugh. "She's scared of them but wouldn't stop insisting. We ended up staying up all night."

He laughed again, completely unaware of how fondly he was talking about Renee.

Claire just watched him. It had been ages since she'd seen that smile. The last time was probably the day she told him she was pregnant.

"Why didn't you rest there for a while?" Claire asked.

"It's not my home," Finley said, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to her like it was automatic. "Besides, it's your birthday. I should spend it with you."

Claire took the jacket without a word, the sharp, cloying scent of perfume hitting her instantly. She placed it on the couch, keeping some distance between them.

"When's your next prenatal appointment?" Finley asked, stepping closer. His hand settled on her stomach, heavy and unwelcome. "Baby, do you miss Daddy? Next time, Daddy will go with Mommy to the appointment. We'll see you. Isn't that exciting?"

Claire froze, staring at his bright smile, feeling nothing but cold. Exciting? Was he serious? There wasn't even a baby left to see, thanks to him.

"Next Monday. Will you be free?"

"I will," he promised, sliding his arms around her from behind. "I'm sorry, Claire. I know I've been distant, but it's not what you think. Renee and I are just friends. You're so jealous sometimes. Like the other day—you embarrassed me in front of my friends, didn't you?"

Her back stiffened, and she stayed quiet.

Three years of marriage, and he'd had the audacity to propose to Renee in front of everyone. How was she supposed to feel?

Sensing her silence, Finley switched tactics. "How about this? It's your birthday. Wherever you want to go, I'll take you. Deal?"

She didn't answer immediately, memories of an old promise creeping back. He'd once said he'd take her to the Maldives to see the ocean—a promise never kept.

"I want to go to the Maldives," she said. "You promised me."

Finley frowned. "That's too far. It'd take forever to plan. How about somewhere closer? I'll book a cute B&B. We'll be back by Monday."

"I was kidding," Claire said with a faint smile. She wasn't surprised. Renee always came first.

Later, Finley booked a fancy restaurant for dinner. Claire didn't want to go but figured, why not? It'd probably be their last meal together.

At the table, Finley handed her the menu with a smile that looked genuine if you didn't know better. "Order whatever you like."

Before she could even scan it, he rattled off suggestions. "Let's do the herb-crusted lamb, escargot, foie gras... oh, and a bottle of red."

Claire frowned. None of those were things she liked. Did he even know her anymore? Maybe he never did.

To top it off, Finley didn't even eat lamb.

Before she could call him out, Renee showed up, sliding into a chair. She whipped off her mask, all smiles.

"Claire! Happy birthday! I was filming nearby and skipped lunch. Finley didn't want me to starve, so he invited me. You don't mind, right?"

Claire's lips parted, but before she could get a word out, the waiter appeared, serving plates.

Renee lit up. "Wow, all my favorite foods! I'm starving. Hope you don't mind if I dive in!"

She didn't wait for permission, grabbing a fork and tearing into the meal with zero hesitation.

Finley watched her, his face softening. "Of course, they're all your favorites. I ordered them just for you. Take your time."

"Thanks, Finley! You're the best!" Renee beamed, then threw in, "Love you!"

A second later, she backtracked, glancing at Claire with a quick, practiced laugh. "Oops! Sorry, Claire. Habit. I say it to my fans all the time. You're cool with it, right?"