Chapter Eleven
Claire
One week later.
His continued silence hurt more than the cruel words he’d spoken.
He’d barely glanced at me, like I meant nothing.
The way he’d kissed me—hungry, demanding, claiming—I’d thought.
..
No, I’d hoped .
For just one damn second.
The memory of his touch, of the pleasure he’d given me burned bright in my memory and showed up every time I closed my eyes.
But now, I might as well not exist.
How long would he act like nothing had happened?
How long would I let him?
I hadn’t meant to confront him.
It just… happened. Like my body marched to the guest bedroom door and acted without any input – or permission – from my brain.
Now… it’s been a week.
“You have to talk to me sometime, you know.” He was the one who demanded this look real, and here he was ignoring me.
His back stiffened, his head finally turning toward me.
There was something so hard set about his features it almost scared me.
Not because I thought he’d hurt me or anything silly like that, but because it made me think he had successfully shut me out for good.
I stepped closer. “It’s been a week. You can’t even look at me.” My voice cracked.
“Why?”
But I knew why.
Because admitting it meant he’d felt it too.
That I hadn’t been crazy.
Or stupid. Or hopelessly naive.
That it wasn’t just me.
His eyes met mine, ice-blue and unreadable.
The impact was like a bruise forming, dark and spreading under the surface.
“You stopped for yourself,” I said, needing him to hear it.
Needing him to admit it.
I took another step.
“Not for me.”
Something flickered in his gaze.
But then it was gone, swallowed by the same suffocating control.
He looked away.
It was that indifference that shattered my resolve.
“You’re a coward.” I spat the words at him, angry that he could so effortlessly pretend I didn’t exist, except when it was convenient for him.
“You’re afraid of what this could be if you let it.”
His jaw tightened.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs.
If he would just say something.
Anything.
But when he spoke, the words were a slap.
“You’re naive if you think this was ever more than a contract.”
I froze.
My heart stopped beating.
The room, the air, the world—everything stilled, like the moment before impact, before you realized just how hard you’d been hit.
Naive.
He wasn’t wrong.
He’d never misled me.
He’d never promised more.
He’d never been the one reaching.
That was me. Always me.
My body moved before my mind could catch up, stepping backward, away from the blow, from him.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold together what felt like falling apart.
“Fine,” I said. I didn’t recognize my own voice, it sounded so raw, so defeated.
He didn’t look at me.
Didn’t say another word.
Didn’t soften the brutal truth he’d just laid bare.
I turned, each step mirroring the agonizing beat of my heart while carrying me out of the room, out of his sight, out of a mistake that was mine alone to own.
I knew he was right, but it didn’t hurt any less.
Alexander’s words repeated in my mind, their coldness branded across every thought, every breath, even as my heart raged against the truth.
I wanted to give up.
Go home. Quit this stupid game.
But I needed to be strong.
Not for me, but for those I loved.
My family counted on me.
I wouldn’t break. Not yet.
That desperation that made me sign my name to his ridiculous contract held firm even now.
However, I was about to demand something.
I thought about my plan, alone in his room, in his bed.
And when I finally fell asleep, I had a plan.
And he wasn’t going to like it one bit.
Not that I gave a damn.
The next morning, I pushed my way toward his office, ignoring stares and whispers, holding a manilla envelope to my chest. But before I could make it through the doors, a voice pierced my skull like an ice pick.
“Trouble in paradise?”
Allison.
I’d recognize her polished, venomous lilt anywhere.
How was she always here?
Did she work here on the down low?
Was she a stalker? What the heck?
I kept walking like I didn’t even hear her.
I didn’t want to face her and make her think I knew she was talking to me.
That would prove her words right.
My pace quickened, carrying me toward Alexander before I could lose my nerve.
“I already know, Claire. You’re not that hard to read.” She stepped in front of me, and I almost tripped into her.
“You know nothing, Allison.” …
did she? Maybe Alexander had confided in her, maybe she knew something I didn’t.
She sure seemed to be around Alexander more than I ever thought she’d be.
She leaned in, and I instinctively pulled away.
“Are you sure?” She arched a perfect eyebrow at me, before taking in my hair, my makeup, my clothing, before her gaze swept back to mine.
It was clear, I’d been judged and found wanting, as always.
But I didn’t care what she thought.
“So. Are you running to him or from him?”
The question stung.
But I wasn’t about to let her in on that.
“Toward him, whatever made you think otherwise?” I knitted my brows as if she’d lost her mind.
She wasn’t going to get to me.
Not now, not ever. I wouldn’t let her.
She let out a tinkling laugh.
“He never could resist a charity case,” she said, as if speaking to herself, knowing the impact of her words on me would be all the same.
“No, darling, he’s dating me, not you.” With that, I moved to step around her, but she blocked my path again.
“I don’t know what you think you’re winning, but this is getting boring.” I feigned a yawn.
She paused, her lips curving into a slow, satisfied smirk.
Her eyes held mine with a calculated gleam that said she knew exactly what she was doing.
“Winning?” she asked, feigning surprise.
“Sweetheart, I already won.”
“I’m sure you think so,” I said.
“However, I have somewhere to be.” This time I didn’t let her stop me.
The envelope felt heavy in my hands.
I couldn’t breathe. She walked off with a laugh, as if my words meant nothing to her.
I’m sure they didn’t.
This… wasn’t going to work.
I didn’t belong here.
I didn’t have Alexander’s backing or whatever the heck it was that had Allison here.
Before I realized what I was doing, before I realized what it meant, I tore the envelope – and the request - in half.
The paper’s tear felt like a final, agonizing cut.
But it also felt like the first deep breath I’d taken since Alexander offered me a deal that sounded too good to be true.
I should have listened to my gut then.
But now.... I couldn’t pretend anymore.
Not for him. Not for my family.
I needed out, needed to escape before he destroyed my sense of self, my confidence, my life .
I didn’t know how I made it back to the penthouse, but I was in a rush.
I tore through the place, packing my things with a breathless urgency.
My things. Not the gifts he’d given me.
I left the card on the counter.
Every frantic second something inside me whispered what I refused to acknowledge—I couldn’t do this anymore.
Not after what happened between us, or his sudden, endless coldness.
I was leaving. And this time, it was real.
I didn’t know how I’d survive it, didn’t know how I’d fix the mess.
My mother’s bills, my brother’s tuition—what if I couldn’t keep up?
What if I let them down, just when I thought I was saving them?
Just when I thought I was saving myself?
But even that fear couldn’t make me stay.
My pulse pounded, aching, a warning that I couldn’t do this anymore.
Not with him. Not when I knew how it would end.
Not when he’d shown me exactly what I was worth to him.
Nothing.
Not only that, but now I knew for certain how easy it would be for him to discard me when this was over.
I needed out. Now. Before it destroyed me.
The enormity of the pain twisted in my chest, sharp and aching, as I crammed clothes and shoes into my bag, each piece a reminder of how much I’d given up to be here.
Each piece a reminder of how little it had mattered.
I didn’t know what I was doing, didn’t know what I was thinking.
I only knew that if I didn’t leave now, I wouldn’t be able to.
Pain, fear, worry swallowed every rational thought, every logical plan.
I’d find a way to keep mom’s house.
To keep Michael in school.
I had to. I couldn’t lose everything.
I’d find a way.
I’d have to.
I was so caught up in the panic of my own making, I didn’t realize he was watching me until it was too late.
“You went to the office today.”
The sound of his voice, the presence of him in the room, sent a jolt through my body.
I spun around, my heart leaping to my throat, my hands freezing mid-pack.
Of course the detail were following me, but they were like ghosts; I didn’t even know they were there.
He stood there, controlled, unruffled, the way he always was.
The way he always would be.
No matter where I stood in his life.
I couldn’t look directly at him, but I couldn’t look away.
He was too calm, too steady, and it made the chaos inside me unbearable.
“Claire,” he said, and the sound of my name broke something inside me.
I wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, wanted to scream.
I needed to run.
But instead, I shrugged.
I didn’t trust myself to speak, to say anything that wouldn’t show him just how close I was to losing it.
His gaze shifted, falling to the torn request on the floor.
He bent to pick it up, pulling the page from the envelop carefully, his eyes scanning the two halves of the paper with an intensity that made my breath catch.
When he was done, he looked at me again, this time with something unreadable, something like restraint.
Then, silence. I couldn’t bear it.
I couldn’t bear him.
He was back to watching me, too still, too quiet—like he was forcing himself not to move.
I turned away, my chest tight, my fingers numb as they fumbled with the strap of my bag.
I had to get out. I had to go before I broke, before I cried, before he saw just how far I’d fallen.
“I’m done.” The words came out raw, edged with the hurt I couldn’t hide, the hurt I didn’t want to give him the pleasure of knowing he’d caused me.
Alexander tensed—so faintly it almost went unnoticed.
He didn’t react. Didn’t reach for me.
Didn’t fight. Didn’t say a damn thing to stop me.
The bag was heavy in my hands, a tangible weight that anchored me to this place, to this choice, to this unbearable, inescapable reality.
I’d thought he might try.
I’d thought he might care.
For one stupid, hopeful second, I’d thought he might actually—
“No.” My voice was sharp, decisive, cutting off what he’d never say, what I couldn’t let myself believe anymore.
“I let myself believe for one stupid second that this was real. That you actually—”
I stopped, biting back the words that would hurt too much to say.
Alexander breathed sharply, his fingers twitching at his side—like he was about to move, about to reach for me, about to say something that changed everything.
I saw it. Saw the hesitation.
Saw the internal war he was trying so hard not to lose.
Saw the way his jaw tightened, the way his breath dragged, the way his hand almost lifted—like he was about to grab my wrist, stop me, fix this before it was too late.
I held my breath. For one aching, stretched-out second, it was like the world paused.
Like he was going to give in.
Like he was going to change everything.
But then—
Then his fingers curled into a fist, and he didn’t.
He didn’t stop me. He didn’t do the thing that would have undone everything.
And that—that was worse than if he’d done nothing at all.
I swallowed, pushing past the heaviness tightening in my throat.
“I’ll figure it out.” I said it more to myself than to him.
Because I had to. Because there was no other choice now.
I exhaled, steeled myself, and walked out.
And Alexander—
Alexander let me go.