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Cain walked into the dimly lit dining room, the faint clatter of cutlery echoing in the otherwise silent house. Claire sat at the table, staring at her half-finished plate, her hands clasped together as though bracing herself. The silence between them wasn't comforting; it was sharp, like the edge of a blade.
Dinner passed in near silence, with occasional glances exchanged but no words spoken. Cain could feel the weight of her thoughts pressing against him. He knew a storm was brewing. After dinner, as Cain leaned back against the chair, sipping his wine, Claire stood abruptly.
"Cain," she said, her voice calm yet firm, "we need to talk."
His gaze flickered to her, his jaw tightening. "Alright," he replied, setting his glass down.
Claire inhaled deeply, as if gathering strength. "This engagement… It was too sudden. I didn't want to hurry into this. After everything, how can I? You broke my trust once, and now—" her voice cracked slightly before she steadied herself, "what if you break it again? Trust isn't something that can just be rebuilt overnight."
Cain opened his mouth to respond, but she raised a hand to stop him. "I met Beth today," she continued, her eyes locked onto his. "She told me how you bailed her out and punished those bullies. But Cain, what's the use of all that? You sent me to that prison in the first place. You were the one who turned my world upside down."
Cain's eyes darkened, but he said nothing, his fingers curling into a fist on the table.
"I understand," Claire said, her voice lowering, "that back then, you weren't serious about us. But what's happening now feels rushed, forced. And Maria…" She exhaled sharply, her pain visible in the way her shoulders stiffened. "Maria accused me of something I didn't do. You believed her without a second thought. Just by bailing out Beth, punishing some bullies, and proposing an engagement doesn't erase what you did."
Cain's gaze softened slightly, guilt flickering in his eyes.
"You can't bring the old me back," Claire said, her voice trembling. "You can't bring my Nana back. You can't undo the scars you left behind. And Maria? She's still a part of your life, a part of your family. What happens when she comes back? What happens when you have to choose between her and me?"
Cain stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Claire, that's not—"
"You'd choose her," she interrupted, her voice rising. "You'd choose her over me any day, Cain. And where would that leave me? Just another collateral damage in your life. This engagement wasn't even my choice. You didn't ask for my consent. You just forced it on me."
Her words cut deeper than she realized, and Cain's expression hardened. But she wasn't done.
"I need time to heal," Claire said, her voice softening. "But time doesn't erase scars, Cain. And if Maria comes back, if your family interferes… Can you protect me from them? Are you strong enough, loyal enough, sincere enough to stand by me? Do you even love me enough to try?"
The weight of her words hung heavily in the room. Cain's jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides, but he didn't respond.
Claire shook her head, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I'm going to bed," she said quietly, walking away without another glance at him.
Cain stood there for a long time, her words echoing in his mind. **You can't bring the old me back. Do you love me enough to try?**
The next morning,
Breakfast was a silent affair. Claire ate mechanically, her eyes fixed on her plate, while Cain sat across from her, his thoughts distant. The tension between them was palpable, but neither said a word.
After breakfast, Cain left for the office, his usual confident stride slower, weighed down by the previous night's conversation. Claire, however, had other plans.
Her cousin had called again, pestering her relentlessly. With a sigh, she decided to visit her family. It wasn't a meeting she was looking forward to, but avoiding it any longer would only prolong the inevitable.
Claire soon arrived at her uncle's grand house, the warm autumn sun casting long shadows across the driveway. To her surprise, she was greeted with open arms. Her aunt enveloped her in a tight hug, her smile as bright as the sun.
"Oh, Claire, it's so good to see you!" her aunt gushed, ushering her inside. Her cousins surrounded her with gifts—small trinkets and luxury items they claimed were bought just for her.
Her uncle clapped her on the shoulder, his voice dripping with affection. "Claire, my girl, you look just like your mother. It's like having her here with us again."
The overwhelming warmth and kindness felt wrong, unnatural. Claire's instincts prickled with suspicion. These were the same people who had turned their backs on her when she needed them the most. And now, they were acting like the perfect, loving family.
Her aunt treated her like a princess, offering her tea and homemade delicacies. Her uncle showered her with compliments, and her cousins seemed eager to please.
But Claire remained silent, her gaze sharp as she observed them. **What are they playing at?** she wondered, her suspicion growing with every passing moment.
After an hour of relentless pampering, her uncle cleared his throat, his demeanour shifting slightly. "Claire, since we're family now, let's put the past behind us and stay happy together," he said, forcing a chuckle.
Claire raised an eyebrow, her patience wearing thin. "What's this really about, Uncle?"
He hesitated, then pulled out a set of papers from behind his back, placing them on the table in front of her. "It's Nana's will," he said with a sheepish smile. "She left everything to you, but… well, as a family, we should share, shouldn't we?"
Claire stared at the papers, realization dawning on her. The fake smiles, the sudden kindness—it all made sense now.
A cold laugh escaped her lips, sharp and humourless. "So that's what this is about," she said, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. "You want Nana's property. That's why you're all pretending to care."
Her uncle's smile faltered. "Claire, it's not like that. We're family—"
"Don't," she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. "Don't you dare call yourself my family. You abandoned me when I needed you. And now you want to share Nana's property? You think I'll just hand it over to you?"
Her aunt tried to intervene, her voice sickly sweet. "Claire, sweetheart, we only want what's fair—"
"Fair?" Claire interrupted, standing up. "What's fair is that Nana left everything to me because she knew exactly what kind of people you are. And I'm not signing anything. This is hers, and I won't let vultures like you get your hands on it."
The masks dropped instantly. Her uncle's face twisted in anger, her aunt's kind demeanour vanished, and her cousins sneered at her.
"You ungrateful brat," her uncle snarled. "After everything we've done for you—"
"You mean the years of neglect and betrayal?" Claire shot back, her voice steady despite the rage simmering beneath.
They advanced on her, their patience gone, but Claire held her ground, her chin raised defiantly.
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