Exiting the mansion, Claire, faced with an unknown option, stood there lifelessly. What was it going to be? Jail again? Or Cain's ruthless torments? Minutes ago, she was bailed out just to see her grandmother laying in the coffin, and now she was back in the devil's den. She wished to return to jail rather than being here with this man, who made her life a living nightmare. Her face displayed her disgust.
Cain was already waiting by the car, his gaze colder than winter's frost as he took her in, his intense. She emotionlessly returned his gaze, refusing to be dominated by his stare. He motioned to the car without a word, his jaw set tight.
"Drive us to the clothing store," he instructed the butler, his tone clipped, almost distant.
Claire said nothing as she slid into the seat beside him. The silence between them was suffocating, the kind that left no room for words.
When they reached the boutique, Cain led her inside with the same unrelenting silence. "Get changed into something decent." Cain voiced without sparing her a glance.
"I'm good with this uniform on me," Claire replied indifferently.
"Claire, do as I say. Go and get changed, and do not dare to test my patience." Cain looked at her with irritation.
"You let me attend my grandma's funeral in this uniform, and now you want me to wear something decent? Even the devil won't stoop this low." Clenching his teeth, he gave her a death stare that was unbearable.
Wanting to avoid further clashes, Claire reached for a dress on a nearby rack. As she stepped out of the changing room a moment later, she felt his gaze sharpen, lingering. She resisted the urge to shrink under his scrutiny until she noticed the shift in his expression—a flash of anger, his eyes darkening. She followed his gaze and froze, realising what he had seen. A bruise had slipped out from beneath her sleeve, and her breath caught as he moved toward her.
"Claire…" His voice was quiet, dangerously so, his fingers reaching for her arm. "What is this?"
She pulled away quickly, but his grip was firm, his fingers wrapping around her wrist with an intensity that startled her. He guided her into a changing room and lifted her sleeve slightly, his gaze tracing the bruises marking her arm.
"What happened to you?" His voice was low, almost a growl, a fire igniting in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a long time.
She jerked her arm free, stepping back. "It's nothing, Cain. Let it go."
"Nothing?" he repeated, his voice laced with barely contained fury. "You think I can just ignore this?"
"Why do you care now?" She shot back, her voice shaking despite her efforts to sound strong. "Where was this concern when you were sending me away?"
He stared at her; the accusation hitting him harder than she expected. But before he could answer, she was already walking out, leaving him standing there with a flicker of shame hidden behind his anger.
Heading towards the cash counter, after a last glance at Claire, he swiped his card and walked to the exit.
Once outside, Cain pulled out his phone, his expression hardening. "Find out what happened to Claire in that prison. I want every detail by the end of the day." He shoved the phone back into his pocket, his knuckles white as he gripped it, the force barely containing his rage.
The drive back to the mansion was cold, the tension between them filling the car like a morning fog. Cain's gaze would drift to her every so often and each time, a shadow of something softer crossing his face before he looked away.
When they arrived at the mansion, he asked Claire to get inside and followed her after a while. Entering the mansion, a fairly old-looking woman dressed as a caretaker greeted her. She couldn't hide the surprise on her face after seeing Claire.
When Claire used to visit the mansion, she was still a bubbly girl roaming around freely; her humour never failed to impress anyone she met. Seeing Claire again in this condition and after the allegations against her surprised all the maids.
Cain didn't bother to ask if she was hungry. Instead, he ordered the maid to prepare a meal. "Something nutritious," he added, glancing at Claire with a mixture of concern and frustration.
She stiffened as he turned to her. "Come upstairs," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
She wanted to refuse, to walk away, but something in his voice held her, and she found herself following him up the stairs, her heart heavy. He led her into his room, pulling out a small medical kit. Wordlessly, he motioned for her to sit.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head.
"Claire," he said as he held her hand, his voice edged with frustration. "You're hurt. Just let me help."
"Hurt?" She let out a bitter laugh that sounded shallow. Pulling her hand back, she added mockingly, "Do you think this is just about bruises, Cain?"
He froze, the weight of her words settling over him like a stone. "I don't understand," he murmured, his voice softer, almost vulnerable.
"Of course you don't," she whispered, her voice breaking as she fought to keep her emotions in check. "You abandoned me. You sent me to that—that hellhole, and you didn't even care. When I needed you, Cain, you turned your back on me. And for what?"
Cain's face twisted with something she couldn't quite read—a flash of regret, guilt, maybe even sorrow. But he said nothing, just listened, his jaw clenched tightly.
"Do you even know what it was like in there?" Her voice was rising now, each word soaked in bitterness. "Every day, I waited, hoping you'd realize your mistake and come get me. Every day, I held on, thinking that maybe, just maybe, you'd care enough to check on me. But you never came."
"Claire…" His voice was quiet, almost a whisper as he tried to reach out, but she stepped back, her eyes blazing with fury and pain.
"You want to know what happened?" Her voice broke, her emotions raw and unguarded. "They hurt me, Cain. Every single day, they broke me a little more, until there was almost nothing left. And all I could think was, 'This is what I get for loving him. This is the price I pay for believing that he cared about me.'"
Her words cut through him, sharper than any blade, and he staggered, her confession hitting him like a physical blow. For the first time, he looked truly shaken, as if realizing the depth of his own betrayal.
"Claire," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "I didn't know."
She retorted, "You didn't want to know," with distress evident in her voice. "You didn't care enough to find out. And believed Maria's lies over me. I was sent away without a second thought."
Cain's face crumpled, the weight of her words sinking in. He looked down, his expression one of pure regret, but it only served to ignite Claire's anger further.
"Every bruise, every scar, they're because of you." Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to keep going. "You let them happen to me. And now, you think a few bandages will fix it? That you can just erase the pain with some food and medical care?"
His hand dropped to his side, the air between them filled with the weight of unsaid words, of shattered trust. He looked at her, truly looked at her, as though he was seeing her pain for the first time. His gaze softened, his eyes filled with an emotion she couldn't name, something that bordered on despair.
"Claire," he said, his voice raw and broken. "I....I'm so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, Maria suffered because of you, was I not protecting and caring before this incident occurred?"
"Protecting me?" She let out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter and aching. "Is that what you call it? You didn't protect me, Cain. You destroyed me."
He flinched, her words cutting him deeper than he could've imagined. He reached out once more, but she stepped back, her gaze filled with a sorrow so deep it almost undid him.
"I loved you, Cain," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I loved you and you threw me away like I was nothing."
His hands trembled, his face a mask of regret and sorrow. He looked at her, his eyes filled with the pain of his own mistakes, and for the first time, he seemed lost, vulnerable, stripped of his usual arrogance.
"I can't undo what I did," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "But, Claire… if I could go back—"
"But you can't." Her voice was icy, devoid of any hope. "Nothing can change what happened, Cain. And I don't even know if I want to forgive you."
Silence fell between them, each of them standing on opposite sides of a chasm that felt too wide to bridge. Cain's gaze dropped, his expression shifting to one of profound regret. He finally understood, in that awful, crushing silence, the consequences of his actions.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice a faint echo of his usual confidence. "I never meant for any of this to happen." Claire stood there, tears rolling down her cheek. She couldn't find more words to continue the conversation.