Claire's heart pounded so hard it felt like the walls of the grand dining room were closing in on her.
No, this wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Of all the people in the world, why did Chris's aunt have to be Nicole?
Her breath hitched as she stared at the woman before her. The once warm and welcoming smile on Nicole's face had vanished, replaced with raw hatred as she glared disdainfully at Claire.
Claire knew that hatred. She had seen it before—years ago at their graduation where Nicole had almost ripped her face apart.
It was all because of that experience in High school. The very one that had involved Mathew.
But unlike what everyone thought, it wasn't true. Nobody knew the whole story yet everyone was quick to call to a murderer and to think another person other than her that was directly affected by the whole incident was Nicole, Chris's aunt just made it even more complicated for her.
Now, even Chris was going to think she was a murderer. She thought as a sickening weight settled in her stomach.
She could barely process the shock in Chris's and Elizabeth's eyes as they looked between her and Nicole, clearly trying to make sense of what was happening.
"Nicole, what's going on?" Elizabeth asked, her voice cautious but firm. "Why are you calling Claire a murderer? She's your nephew's girlfriend—"
"I don't care what she is. She is a murderer who goes around killing n in cold blood!" Nicole cut in bitterly while Claire rely stood there, shaking her head.
Hearing that, Chris turned to Claire, and the mont he saw the way her hands trembled at her sides, he moved toward her, instinctively wanting to protect her.
"Aunt, stop, please. Can't you see that you're hurting her?" he said, his tone sharp. "I don't know what's going on, but don't call Claire nas. She's a guest here!"
Nicole scoffed, her expression twisting further. "Nas? Guest?" She turned her sharp gaze to Chris. "You think I'm just calling her nas? This woman—" she pointed an accusatory finger at Claire "—is exactly what I said she is. I an, look at her. She knows that what I'm saying is the truth otherwise, why isn't she saying anything or even defending herself?"
Chris frowned, shifting his gaze back to Claire. His stomach twisted at what he saw.
Though he didn't like that his aunt was picking accusatory fingers at Claire, he also didn't like that she wasn't defending herself.
She wasn't speaking. Instead, she stood there—frozen, silent, her wide eyes filled with sothing that made his chest tighten.
Was it Guilt? Or Pain or even Regret? Which was it?
Chris's mind scread at him, telling him exactly what it ant. Her reaction ant that whatever Nicole was saying was true.
No. It couldn't be. He told himself quickly.
His heart warred against his thoughts, refusing to believe it. He needed to hear it from her first before he could believe anything.
"Claire," he said softly, stepping closer. His voice was quieter now, not demanding—just desperate. "Tell it's not true. Tell whatever she's saying is a lie and you never killed anyone in cold blood."
She looked up at him then, her lips parting as if she wanted to say sothing. But no words ca out.
A single tear slipped down her cheek causing Chris's chest to tighten even more.
His Claire—his strong, confident, beautiful Claire—was crying. What did this an?
She was this vulnerable and not saying anything and that scared him more than anything.
Before he could say another word, Claire suddenly turned and ran.
"Claire!" Chris called after her, his heart lurching as he saw her disappearing down the hallway.
"Chris, let her go," Nicole snapped but he didn't listen.
He couldn't stay there and watch Claire get this broken.
His legs moved on their own, his body reacting before his mind could even catch up.
The mansion was big, but not big enough for her to outrun him.
By the ti he reached her near the front entrance, she had stopped, one hand pressed against the cool marble wall as if she was struggling to breathe.
Chris reached for her, gently grasping her wrist. "Claire, please."
She didn't turn to face him, but she didn't pull away either.
"Even if you're not ready to talk, I can't let you leave like this," he said, his voice softer now. "I brought you here. Let take you ho."
For a mont, she didn't respond. But then, slowly, she gave the smallest nod.
Chris exhaled, relief washing through him even though a thousand emotions were still raging inside him. He didn't understand everything, but one thing was clear—Claire was hurting.
And he couldn't bear to see her like this.
Without another word, he led her to his car, opening the passenger door for her. She slid in without protest, her face turned away from him as if she couldn't bear to look at him.
The silence in the car was heavy as he drove, the tension thick enough to choke him. He wanted to ask. He wanted to demand answers.
But looking at her, seeing the way she kept her arms wrapped around herself, staring out the window as if she wanted to disappear—he couldn't bring himself to push her.
Not now. He thought.
When he turned to the route leading tp Alex's house, Claire suddenly spoke, her voice quiet but firm. "Take to my house, please."
Chris's grip on the steering wheel tightened and he turned to spare her a glamce. He didn't like that she wanted to go to her house at a ti like this.
He didn't want her to be alone. Not after everything that happened.
"Claire—"
"Please," she whispered, finally turning to look at him.
The desperation in her eyes made sothing in him break.
He exhaled sharply. "Okay."
Minutes later, he pulled up in front of the massive estate—her father's mansion. It was as grand as his own family's, yet right now, it felt cold.
Claire unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle, but Chris gently grabbed her hand.
She stilled, her breath hitching as she waited to hear what he had to say.
"Claire..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Whatever this is... whatever happened... I'm not leaving you alone in this. I won't believe anything until I hear from you."
Her lips trembled, but she didn't say anything. She wanted to tell him she was grateful he believed in her and wanted to hear her side of the story despite hearing directly from his aunt but instead, she simply pulled her hand free, opened the door, and stepped out.
Her heart was too heavy, her mind occupied with the nightmare of that night years ago to even look at him.
Chris watched as she walked toward the grand entrance, her shoulders stiff, her head held high—just like the Claire he knew.
But sothing was different now. Sothing was breaking inside her and he had never felt more helpless in his life like he felt in that mont.
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