The morning light seeped into the quiet room, casting soft, fractured shadows across the walls as Claire sat alone, shoulders tense, hands wrapped around a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. She felt the air shift as Cain entered, his usually confident stride now hesitant. She sensed him watching her as if searching for a way to reach her that didn't exist.
As Cain walked into the dinning table he glanced at Claire, rembering last night's incident his face displayed a ray of concern.
"Morning. How are you feeling?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence. His voice, usually smooth and assertive, now held an unfamiliar uncertainty. He looked down as though gathering himself, then added, "I...I thought I'd join you for breakfast."
Claire's lips pressed together, her face a mask of indifference as she stirred her coffee absently. "Breakfast? You didn't join me in prison and now want to join me for breakfast?"
Cain's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I just–I thought…I asked chef to prepare your favorites." He added with a faint smile.
Claire's eyes flashed with resentment. "Favorites?" She scoffed. "You seem to know a lot about what I like, yet you couldn't seem to figure out that I'd never commit such a crime?"
"Claire, I realised that I was wrong. That's why I brought you back home with me. If not, I would-" His words were interrupted by her mockery.
"You would've sent me back to jail?" She raised her eyebrows. "Then do it, Cain. If you really want to, then send me back to that prison where I belong. Isn't that what you believe? Isn't that what Maria would want? Don't you think she'd be upset, seeing me here like this, living in comfort?"
Shutting his eyes, he remembered last night's incident. He gritted his teeth just by hearing the word 'jail'. "Claire, can you please stop taunting me? I am trying to start a kind conversation," he said softly.
"'A kind start.'" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but each word cut into him. "You think eggs and coffee can erase what you did?" She let out a shallow laugh, one that held no joy, but pain. "How do you even look at me and think that?"
He tried again, his tone quieter, almost pleading. "I know I made a mistake, Claire. I know it's not something I can just-"
"A mistake?" She laughed again, bitterness curling her lips. "A mistake is spilling coffee. A mistake is forgetting a meeting. You made a choice, Cain. You threw me aside without a second thought like I meant nothing." Her hands tightened around her coffee cup as she finally looked up at him, anger flashing in her eyes. "So what's with this act now?"
He inhaled deeply, his words catching. "I'm trying to make amends. I want to take care of you."
"Care? C'mon Cain, let's be real. It's high time that you learn the meaning of the word "care". She looked at him, incredulous.
Her words stung like a slap. He looked at her, his face contorted with something she couldn't place, but he stayed silent. Without another word, he turned and left, his shoulders heavy, the door closing behind him with a soft, final click.
Cain threw himself into work, but her words lingered, each one echoing in his mind until they became a steady, punishing drumbeat. Hours later, his assistant Mark entered, holding a thick folder with an unusual expression of reluctance.
"What's this, Mark?" Cain's voice came out harsher than intended.
Mark cleared his throat, his gaze lowered. "It's the report you requested on Claire's time in prison."
A chill ran down Cain's spine as he took the folder, slowly opening it. The pages were filled with descriptions, each line revealing more than he was ready to face. There were records of sleepless nights spent on cold, unforgiving floors, injuries that had gone untreated, and the harsh treatment she'd endured day after day.
One sentence in particular stole his breath: "Prisoner withdrew completely from social interaction, displaying signs of severe trauma and isolation."
Cain's hands tightened around the pages as each line bore down on him. This was her life—all because he hadn't believed her. All because he had trusted someone else over her. How could I have been so blind? He thought.
"Oh, before I forget, find out about this woman called Beth. Whoever she is and wherever she is, arrange a meeting by this afternoon." Saying that, he walked towards his office to sign up a pile of files.
—- At the mansion
Claire stood on the balcony looking at the beautiful garden from above. She felt a bit relaxed. Suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hall. Claire looked up, only to feel her stomach drop as the maid reported the arrival of someone unexpected. Maria. She was the last person Claire wanted to see, and yet, there she was—dripping in luxury and exuding false charm.
Maria didn't wait for an invitation; she swung open the door, stepping in as though she owned this place. She wore a twisted smile, her eyes filled with something dark and evil.
"Well, well, Claire," she purred, crossing the room with ease. "Isn't it a wonder to see you… out?"
Claire's throat tightened, her body tense as she forced herself to stay calm. "Why are you here, Maria?"
Maria chuckled, lounging on the couch as if it were her own throne. "Cain hasn't visited me in two days. I thought I'd drop by and see what's keeping him since he's been…taking such good care of me," she said with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Then you should contact Cain. Why did you come to me?" Claire sneered with irritation.
Maria leaned forward, her expression turning ice-cold. "Oh, but I've come to my best friend's place, haven't I? And you know what? She clicked her tongue, swirling her finger around her hair, she blinked mischievously. I made sure you were punished in prison. Every scream, every bruise—that was my little gift to you."
Claire felt a surge of anger, but she held it back, meeting Maria's gaze with defiance. "You will pay for everything you did to me."
"Maybe," Maria replied with a cold shrug. "But by then, you'll be too broken to matter." She leaned back, settling comfortably as if she planned to wait for Cain's arrival, a twisted satisfaction in her gaze.