Claire walked down the hallway, guided only by memory.

She stopped in front of a familiar wooden door.

This was it.

After Serena had returned to the Thompson household, Elena had "gently suggested" that the master bedroom be given to her instead.

So Claire had packed her things and quietly moved into this room-barely half the size.

On her first day there, Serena had leaned against the doorframe with a smug smile and a voice dripping with false concern.

"Sis, this room's kind of dark, isn't it? Are you sure you're okay with it? I could talk to Mom about getting you a better one."

Claire had simply shaken her head. "No need. This one's fine."

But it hadn't been fine.

In winter, it was freezing. In summer, stifling. The only window faced a brick wall, so sunlight never reached the room.

Back then, she'd said nothing. She thought silence would mean less drama.

Looking back now... what a joke.

She reached for the doorknob and turned it gently.

The door creaked open.

The room looked almost untouched, just as she'd left it three years ago-except now the air was heavy with dust and the musty scent of abandonment.

The curtains were drawn, the light inside dull and gray.

She stepped in.

BANG!

The door slammed shut behind her.

The sharp click of a key turning echoed through the silence. Then-

Another sound: the distinct metallic snick of a key being pulled out.

Claire's heart dropped.

She spun around-too late.

The door was locked from the outside.

She grabbed the handle and twisted, yanked-but it didn't budge.

Then-

A rough arm seized her from behind, pinning her with brute force.

"Ah-!" Claire gasped, pain shooting through her arm.

⋯

Outside, the lawn glittered under warm lights. Laughter flowed with the breeze.

Serena sipped from her juice glass, her eyes flicking up toward the second floor every now and then.

If her timing was right. things should be unfolding now.

That idiot Claire was probably already in the room.

A small, satisfied smile curled on Serena's lips.

Not far away, Nelson stood engaged in quiet conversation with an older guest-but his eyes kept drifting.

Not missing a beat, Serena set her glass down and walked over, voice tinged with worry.

"Nelson. Claire's been gone a while, hasn't she? Do you think she's okay? Maybe the dress is tricky-she might need help with it."

Her tone was gentle, thoughtful-just enough concern, nothing overdone.

Nelson looked up toward the second floor.

"Let's go check." He set his glass down, voice calm-but his steps were already urgent.

Serena's eyes flickered with triumph as she hurried to follow. "I'll come too. I'm really worried about my sister."

A few curious socialites exchanged glances and casually trailed behind.

Then more guests, sensing something amiss, began to follow.

A sizable group made their way upstairs.

The hallway was silent.

Serena walked ahead, her steps slow and deliberate.

From inside the room-

Faint sounds.

A man's muffled groans. The scrape of shuffling feet.

Serena's heart leapt with anticipation.

She quickly covered her mouth with one hand, eyes wide in feigned horror. "Oh my god... did you hear that? What's happening in there?"

Nelson's face darkened instantly.

His jaw clenched. His gaze turned sharp as ice.

The crowd behind them began to stir, murmurs rising like a wave.

Serena, catching the shift in attention, stepped forward. Her hand reached for the door.

"Claire? Are you okay?" she called out, voice trembling just enough to sound believable.

Creeeak-

The door swung open.

Light poured into the room.

And there stood Claire.

Her hair slightly tousled, her expression icy calm.

At her feet, a large man lay curled on the ground, arms and legs bound with torn strips of fabric. A rag stuffed in his mouth muffled his groans.

Claire's foot rested firmly on his shoulder, pinning him in place-effortless and composed.

The scene was surreal.

The crowd froze.

Serena's carefully crafted expression of panic cracked, eyes wide in genuine disbelief.

Claire looked up slowly, her voice cool and clear.

"Serena," she said, "you look. disappointed. Were you hoping I'd be the wreck you imagined?"

Serena blinked, then quickly found her voice.

"What are you talking about? I was worried! We heard noises-what were you even doing in here? How could you just tie someone up? Are you insane?!"

Nelson stepped forward, his voice low and cold.

"Claire," he said, "you'd better explain."

Nelson's cold, clipped demand cut through the air like a blade, slicing straight into Claire's chest.

She slowly lifted her head, meeting his furious gaze head-on.

In that moment, the man standing before her felt like a stranger.

All those years-of waiting, of hoping, of trusting-suddenly seemed like a cruel self-deception.

Her voice was quiet, but steady. "Nelson. Is that really what you think of me? That I'm that kind of woman?"

He faltered.

His anger dimmed, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty.

The man tied up on the floor was bruised and gagged. Claire's clothes, though slightly disheveled, remained intact.

He opened his mouth to speak-but nothing came out.

"Nelson!" Serena's tear-filled eyes clung to him as she grabbed his sleeve. "Don't be mad at my sister. Maybe she. made a mistake. She's been overseas for so long. maybe she got lonely, and. got involved with someone she shouldn't have."

Her voice trembled with practiced vulnerability.

A few of the guests nearby let out soft sighs, their judgmental eyes falling on Claire, now tinged with pity-or disdain.

Claire's expression didn't change.

Then she laughed-soft, brief, and cold.

She straightened slowly, eyes sweeping over the crowd.

With deliberate calm, she reached into her handbag and pulled out what looked like a lipstick tube.

She pressed a hidden switch.

A faint electric buzz sparked, followed by a crisp, unmistakable recording.

First: the sound of a door slamming shut. Then-the click of a key turning.

Her own shaky breathing came next.

A man's voice barked: "Shut up and stay still! You got paid. Time to earn it."

Then Claire's measured voice: "Who sent you? I'll pay double. Just stop."

A mocking laugh followed. "You think a fake rich girl like you can afford that? Miss Thompson was clear-she wants you humiliated. Ruined. Be a good girl, do as I say, and maybe it won't hurt so bad."

Then-

A sharp scream.

A grunt of pain.

Claire's voice, low and cold: "Move again and it won't just be your nose that breaks."

Silence.

The room was frozen.

The guests-silent. Their smirks vanished.

And Nelson...

His expression, already grim, hardened into something darker.

He turned slowly to Serena, still clutching his sleeve, her face drained of color.

"No-Nelson, listen to me," she stammered. "She's lying! She's framing me! That recording-she faked it!"

Tears streamed down her face, her composure unraveling.

Just then, Elena shoved through the crowd, breathless and alarmed.

"What's going on? What happened to my Serena?"

She rushed to her daughter and pulled her close.

When she saw Serena sobbing uncontrollably, her eyes snapped to Claire-hostile, accusing.

"This is Serena's birthday, Claire. Can't you behave for once?"

Serena buried herself in Elena's arms, crying harder. "Mom, it wasn't me. Claire's blaming me for something I didn't do."

She trembled violently, as if moments from collapse.

Elena's fury only deepened.

"How could you do this to her? We raised you for twenty years, Claire! And this is how you repay us? With cruelty?"

Nelson's brows drew together as he watched Serena's meltdown.

Instinctively, his foot shifted forward-as it always had, every time Serena had one of her "episodes" these past three years.

Claire saw everything.

She remembered the day Serena returned to this house.

How Elena had rushed to reclaim the master bedroom for her "real" daughter.

How everything that had belonged to Claire was handed over-without hesitation.

For years, she'd been treated like a shadow. A servant. A placeholder.

Two decades of so-called family ties-torn in an instant.

And now, they dared to look at her like she was the one who'd betrayed them.

Claire crossed her arms, voice steady but sharp.

"Serena, you brought a crowd here hoping they'd catch me in some compromising scene. What if they had?"

Serena flinched, curled tighter into Elena's embrace, still sobbing-but said nothing.

Elena's voice rose, shaking with rage. "Claire, can't you be the bigger person? Look at what you've done-Serena can't even breathe!"

"Enough," Nelson said at last. His voice was low, cold. "Serena's not stable right now."

Claire turned to him.

She smiled.

"So every time she falls apart, I'm expected to stand down? To take the blame? Is that my role in this house?"

Nelson's jaw tightened. "Now's not the time to argue."

"No," Claire said. "You're right. Let's not argue."

She paused.

"Let's just end it."

Her eyes met his, unwavering.

"I've already signed the divorce papers."

The room fell into a brittle silence the moment her words landed.

Claire bent down, pulled a thin folder from her handbag, and stepped forward with composure.

She held it out to Nelson, her voice calm and precise. "I've already signed the divorce papers. Just waiting for your signature."

That slim stack of documents seemed to weigh more than stone.

Nelson's gaze locked onto it, a tangled mix of frustration, disbelief, and pressure rising in his chest.

"Claire." His voice was tight, each syllable laced with tension. "When did you sign this?"

He couldn't process it.

She had only just returned yesterday. This-this was technically their first real conversation since her arrival.

And yet, she already had the papers ready?

Was that why she came back?

To end it?

Claire's tone was flat, distant. "Does it matter when? The result's the same."

"It does matter!" Elena snapped, her voice sharp with irritation. "Divorce isn't something you just toss on a table. But Nelson, if she's really this determined, maybe don't make things harder than they need to be. It might be better this way-for everyone."

She didn't say Serena's name. She didn't need to.

The implication hung in the air like smoke.

And right on cue, Serena peeked up from Elena's embrace. Her lashes were still damp, but the tiny curve of her lips betrayed a quiet satisfaction.

She sniffled delicately, then said, "Sis, please don't take it the wrong way. Nelson and I. we actually talked about this before. He said he'd give you the divorce papers after tonight."

Nelson stiffened.

It was true.

He'd had the documents drawn up weeks ago-before Claire returned. Maybe even longer.

He'd been tired of the cold war between them, the silence, the distance.

But now, watching Claire calmly push the folder toward him... it hit differently.

Harder.

His throat worked as he swallowed. ".Yeah."

As expected.

Claire let out a quiet laugh-dry, bitter, short.

So that was it.

Everyone had been waiting for this marriage to dissolve.

Everyone but her.

She was the only one foolish enough to believe there was still something worth saving.

Claire inhaled deeply, then gently nudged the folder closer. Her voice was no longer soft, no longer warm.

"Then if you would, Mr. Cooper?"

Cold. Polite. Distant.

Nelson stared at the papers, a strange tightness coiling in his chest.

He should've felt relieved.

This was what he wanted.

But instead, his mind flashed back-three years ago.

Claire in a white dress, standing at the altar. Her eyes filled with hope, with trust. With him.

He reached for the folder, and his fingers brushed against hers-just for a second.

She pulled away instantly.

That small, instinctive motion stung more than it should have.

His hand tightened around the folder, the edges digging into his skin like splinters.

He forced himself to look at her. Her eyes were calm, her expression unreadable.

"I'll sign it," he said at last. "I'll have the lawyer take care of the rest."

Claire nodded, her lips curling into a faint, almost gentle smile. "Thanks," she said lightly. "Hope it won't take too long."

Nelson didn't answer.

His brows furrowed.

That strange pressure in his chest-the one he thought would go away-was still there.

Worse, it was growing.