Just a Sister
Claire’s fingertips rested on the cool, heavy paper of the divorce agreement. It felt like it was burning her skin. The shock was slowly receding, replaced by a cold, hollow ache in the center of her chest.
She finally found her voice, though it was thin and brittle. “Why? Why now?”
Julian’s gaze lifted from his tablet, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. He seemed to consider her question, as if deciding how much of the truth she deserved.
“Because Seraphina’s back,” he said simply.
Seraphina Beaumont.
The name landed in the silent room, stopping Claire’s heart for a beat. Of course. It was always Seraphina. Julian’s first love. The one everyone whispered was his soulmate, the only woman truly on his level. The woman who had left for Paris three years ago, leaving a broken Julian in her wake.
Claire’s hand trembled as she picked up the document, her eyes blurring the legal jargon. She remembered how lost Julian had been after Seraphina left. And how, a few months later, his grandfather had orchestrated their marriage. She had seen it as a miracle.
Now she understood. She wasn’t a choice. She was a placeholder.
Julian watched her pale face. His tone softened, but the words that followed were a thousand times more brutal than his earlier coldness.
“Claire, I’ve always been grateful for what you’ve done for the family,” he said, his voice taking on a placating, almost condescending tone. “These past three years… you’ve been like the sister I never had.”
Sister.
The word echoed in her ears. A wave of dizziness washed over her. She wanted to laugh, a hysterical, broken sound. Three years of sharing a bed, of intimate moments she had cherished. And to him, it was like being with a sister.
Every touch, every quiet moment she had mistaken for affection—it was all a figment of her own desperate imagination.
The woman on the phone last night. It had to be her.
“Was that her?” Claire asked, her voice flat. “Last night. On your phone.”
Julian didn’t bother to deny it. He met her gaze, and his silence was the only confession she needed.
He seemed to remember their earlier conversation. “You were about to say something this morning. Before I… interrupted.”
Claire’s hand tightened on her purse, her knuckles pressing against the hard edge of the ultrasound photo hidden inside. She looked at him, at his handsome, impassive face, and a cold, protective instinct flared to life within her.
I can’t tell him.
She couldn’t let her child become a complication in his perfect reunion. She couldn’t bear for this baby to be seen as a problem to be “handled,” a loose end in a business deal. This baby deserved to be wanted.
She shook her head, forcing a mask of professional composure onto her face. It had never felt so heavy.
“It was nothing,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Just a work matter. I needed your final approval on the new brand ambassador for the MQ line.”
Julian seemed pleased, almost relieved, by her quick pivot to business. He nodded. “Of course. Send the file to my assistant.” He gestured toward the papers in front of her. “Read the agreement. The terms are generous. You won’t be left wanting for anything.”
Anything but you, she thought.
She pushed her chair back and stood, the effort of maintaining her posture making her muscles ache. The nausea was rising in her throat again, a bitter mix of morning sickness and heartbreak.
“I’ll need some time to review it,” she said, her voice clipped.
She didn’t look at him again. She turned and walked out of the dining room, up the sweeping staircase. Each step felt like walking on broken glass.
She closed the bedroom door behind her and leaned against the solid wood, her strength finally giving out. She slid down to the floor, wrapping her arms around herself as silent, wracking sobs shook her body.
Ten years of love. Three years of marriage.
It was all a joke. And she was the punchline. Not just a replacement, but a “sister.” She hadn’t even been a contender in a game she never knew she was playing.
