A heavy silence descended between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the hospital. Claire took a shaky breath, her tears abruptly drying, replaced by a tense, wary expression. "You can't be here," she stated, her voice flat, controlled. "What if Alexander knew that you were here? What if he found out?"
Serene looked up, her tear-filled eyes wide, but her composure surprisingly returned.
"What if he wants to ruin your life for trying to damage his reputation?" Claire pressed on, her voice rising in urgency. "He's not an ordinary man, Serene. He's Alexander Sterling. He could destroy everything you and Mark have built. You need to just leave. Okay?" Claire stood up, her body rigid with alarm.
But Serene remained calm and cool, her gaze steady on Claire. A strange, knowing look entered her eyes.
"What?" Claire demanded, her voice exasperated, gesturing wildly. "Call Mark! Just leave!"
Serene looked up, her expression oddly serene, a new, unsettling truth dawning in her eyes. "Alexander knows," she stated, her voice quiet, utterly calm, utterly shattering Claire's understanding of everything.
Claire couldn't believe her ears. The words hung in the air, chilling her to the bone. "Alexander knows." She sank back onto the chair, her gaze fixed on Serene, a thousand unspoken questions in her eyes. "What does it mean?" she managed, her voice barely a whisper.
Serene remained silent, her gaze fixed on the table, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The practiced remorse from earlier had vanished, replaced by a tense, wary expression.
Claire's voice rose, desperation creeping in. "What does it mean by that, Serene?!"
Serene swallowed dryly, her throat visibly constricted, before she began to speak, each word feeling like a fresh stab to Claire's heart. "Actually, I got caught with Mark in a hotel... by Alexander. He was extremely mad, acted like a furious storm. But the marriage date was already fixed, and he..." Serene's voice trailed off, a shudder running through her.
Claire's eyes popped out in utter shock, her breath catching in her throat. The pieces of the puzzle, grotesque and horrifying, began to click into place.
Serene continued, her voice gaining a desperate urgency. "He threatened that he would make me and Mark disappear. I was really scared, Claire. I couldn't even bring myself to tell Mother. I promised him that I would disappear from his life, that I wouldn't try to ruin his reputation. I just... I couldn't. You know... I really love Mark. It was a chance. I requested him to help me instead."
Claire slowly raised a trembling hand, a silent plea for Serene to stop. She couldn't hear anymore. The truth, raw and brutal, was suffocating her.
"And he helped you?" Claire's voice was barely a whisper, thick with tears that now streamed down her face, hot and unchecked.
"I know it's all my fault, but Claire, I really love Mark," Serene pleaded, her own tears flowing freely now.
Claire's head spun, a dizzying whirlwind of betrayal and sacrifice. She was just a sacrifice. That was it. A pawn. A convenient replacement. All of Alexander's supposed fury, his demands, the entire foundation of their marriage, was a carefully constructed lie designed to facilitate Serene's escape. She had been so utterly, completely fooled.
"I need to go," Claire said, the words barely escaping her lips. She pushed herself up from the table, her legs feeling like jelly.
Serene stood up too, a worried frown creasing her brow. "Claire, are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Claire choked out, a hollow, empty sound. She turned, rushing away from the table, from Serene, from the suffocating truth.
"Don't—" Claire began, but she didn't finish the sentence. She burst out of the cafe, out of the hospital, needing to escape, to breathe, to simply be somewhere far away from all of them.
Arriving home, Claire barely registered the driver or the quiet grandeur of the mansion. She stormed through the opulent halls, straight to her room, the only place that felt like a sanctuary. She slammed the door shut, locking it with a trembling hand, and then, finally, she let out a raw, guttural cry, collapsing onto the floor in a fit of uncontrollable sobs. Miley, passing by in the hallway, heard the anguished sound from behind the closed door. Seeing Claire's hurried, distraught posture earlier had already raised a silent alarm. Now, hearing that heart-wrenching sob, Miley's brows furrowed in deep concern. Something was profoundly wrong.
The brutal truth of Serene's confession had fractured Claire's world. Locked in her room for hours, the mansion's opulent walls felt like the confines of a cage. The sobs had eventually subsided, leaving her hollowed out, but the raw, searing pain of betrayal remained, mingling with a potent, icy anger. Alexander. He knew. He had orchestrated it all, sacrificed her, simply to maintain his "reputation" and facilitate his original bride's escape. She was nothing but a convenient, disposable stand-in.
Sleep was an impossibility. Her mind replayed every agonizing moment: Evelyn's forced smile, her father's plea to forgive Serene, and Alexander's cold efficiency. She wanted answers. She needed to confront him, to tear down his carefully constructed facade.
The hours crawled by. The moon traversed the sky, casting long, spectral shadows through her window. The mansion, typically so full of unseen staff and hushed activity, felt utterly deserted. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant hum of the house, made her heart pound. She waited, perched on the edge of her bed, her hands clenched, rehearsing the words she would throw at him.
It was long past midnight when she finally heard the unmistakable rumble of a powerful engine approaching the mansion. The soft crunch of tires on the gravel driveway, the gentle thud of a car door, and then, the distant click of the main entrance. Alexander was home.
Claire stood, her legs trembling but resolute. She walked out of her room, down the silent corridor, her bare feet making no sound on the thick carpet. She knew his routine, knew he would head straight for his private chambers. Her destination was clear.
She pushed open the heavy door to Alexander's bedroom. He was there, his back to her, in the process of taking off his tuxedo jacket, folding it with precise movements before placing it over a valet stand. He turned slightly, catching her reflection in the full-length mirror as she entered. His hands moved to loosen the knot of his tie, but his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with exhaustion, fixed on her in the doorway, a questioning look on his face.
"Do you have something to say?" he asked, his voice flat, devoid of warmth, even as he continued to unknot his tie. He felt the familiar weight of her unspoken presence, sensing her waiting, perhaps even lying in wait for him.
Claire stood still, like a statue, her mind racing, the sharp words she had rehearsed suddenly caught in her throat. The imposing grandeur of his room, his calm, controlled presence, was more intimidating than she had anticipated.
Alexander stopped his movements entirely, his hands still on his tie. He sighed, a short, impatient sound that grated on her nerves. His gaze hardened, losing its earlier weariness. "I can't read your mind. Speak." His tone was a sharp snap, a clear demand for directness, a dismissal of her emotional turmoil.
Claire's resolve solidified, fueled by a fresh surge of anger at his dismissive attitude. She forced a thin, almost brittle smile to her lips, and slowly closed the distance between them. She held out the bottle of water she had carried from the kitchen. "I went to the hospital today," she stated plainly, her voice low but steady, ignoring his command to speak faster. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes, a fleeting recognition of the hospital. "My father was discharged." She paused, then, carefully, delivered the blow. "And I saw Serene there."
Alexander didn't react visibly. He took the water bottle from her hand, his fingers brushing hers, a brief, impersonal contact. He took a sip, his gaze unwavering, betraying no emotion. He simply stood down, his body relaxing, as if the information was not new or surprising.
"What's the point?" he asked, his voice as flat and unconcerned as if she had just commented on the weather. The question hung in the air, cold and dismissive, shattering Claire's fragile composure, confirming her worst fears without a single word of genuine acknowledgement.
"Don't pretend, Alexander. You knew it." Claire's breath was shaky, her voice barely above a whisper, but laced with raw accusation. Her fists clenched at her sides.
Alexander's eyes narrowed, a cold fire sparking in their depths. He pushed off the valet stand he had been leaning against, his posture straightening to its full, imposing height. "Serene was there or not was not my business," he stated, his voice devoid of all warmth, each word a cold, hard stone.