Chapter 4
On the vanity, the skincare products she had used for three years were packed away, every single one of them, into her makeup bag.
The book on the nightstand, still marked halfway through, was closed and slipped neatly into her bag.
She stepped into the bathroom, picked up her toothbrush, paused for a second and then casually grabbed the unopened spare toothbrush beside it and stuffed that into her pocket as well.
After a brief hesitation, she simply took the entire toothbrush holder.
She had bought it herself.
Why should she leave it behind for them?
Item by item, she cleared everything out, leaving behind nothing that belonged to her.
This didn’t look like a temporary move to the guest room.
It looked more like a complete erasure, as if she intended to vanish from this room, from this house, entirely.
The thought made Ethan’s heart sink hard.
He strode forward and grabbed Claire’s wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he might crush bone.
“Have you lost your mind?!”
“Have you caused enough trouble yet?”
The sharp pain finally made Claire stop.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
The eyes that had once shone with warmth for him were now flat and lifeless like still water, reflecting none of him at all.
“Didn’t you tell me to move?” She asked softly, without a trace of emotion.
Ethan was instantly choked silent.
Yes.
He had told her to move.
But this wasn’t what he meant. He hadn’t meant this kind of leaving.
“I only told you to move to the guest room for now!” He growled, forcing down his anger. “What is this supposed to mean? Are you trying to empty the whole house?” Claire suddenly laughed.
The smile was faint but cuttingly cold.
“Ethan Walker,” she looked at him, her voice calm to the point of cruelty, “tell me what in this house actually belongs to me?”
Aside from these clothes, these toiletries, in this beautifully decorated cage built with money, what part of it was ever hers?
This man?
His heart? His tenderness? His patience? None of it had ever been directed at her.
Claire paused, her gaze briefly sweeping over Lily, who stood beside him, visibly tense. Her tone shifted, carrying a faint, unmistakable edge of irony.
“Oh—right.” She smiled lightly. “There is one thing. At least for now, the title Mrs. Walker still belongs to me.”
She looked back at Ethan, her voice sharp and level.
What do you want Miss Lily to ‘temporarily move into’ that role too?”
“You—!”
Ethan’s face turned instantly livid.
Claire didn’t bother watching his reaction. She yanked her wrist free and snapped the suitcase shut.
“Click.”
The crisp sound echoed like a final verdict.
She pulled the suitcase forward, walking straight past him and Lily without the slightest hesitation.
“Ethan…” Lily clutched his arm uneasily, her voice soft and deliberately fragile.
But Ethan stood frozen.
He stared as Claire’s back disappeared through the guest room door, a sudden, unfamiliar panic tightening around his chest.
For the first time, the master bedroom felt empty, strange..
As if something essential had been taken away and he was already too late to reach for it.
Claire dropped the suitcase casually into a corner of the guest room, not bothering to open it.
She walked over to the window and looked out at the garden sinking into darkness.
Her phone vibrated.
It was a bank transfer notification.
The sender, as always, was Ethan’s assistant.
Every first day of the month, without fail, the same amount would arrive in my account.
Not a cent more, not a cent less.
It felt like he was dismissing an insignificant “obligation”, nothing more, nothing less.
Claire deleted the notification without expression.
Then she opened her contacts, scrolled all the way to the bottom, and dialed a number she hadn’t called in a long time.
The phone rang twice before it was picked up.
A warm, clear male voice came through the receiver.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.” Claire’s voice was light. “Claire.”
“Does what you said before still count?”
