Chapter 3

Claire Bennett POV

Two weeks later, I was discharged from the hospital.

The early winter wind was bitterly cold. Wrapped in a thin trench coat, I stood at the gates of the villa halfway up a hill on the outskirts of the city.

This had once been the home Ethan Foster and I moved into as newlyweds. Every corner had held my hopes for our future. Now, the villa was nothing but a vast, magnificent tomb, steeped in decay and despair.

The driver opened the door for me. I walked inside without expression, then paused just as I entered the living room.

Mia Collins was lounging on the leather sofa. She was wearing my favorite silk nightgown, the one Ethan Foster had commissioned especially for me from a French couture atelier, and holding the coffee cup I always used. On the table lay the wooden comb Ethan Foster had sanded by hand, the one I treasured too much to use.

When she saw me, Mia Collins set down the coffee cup. A blatantly taunting smile curled her lips as she rose like the true lady of the house and slowly walked toward me.

“Claire Bennett, you're finally out of the hospital.” Mia Collins deliberately turned in front of me, showing off the obviously ill-fitting nightgown. “This is so comfortable. Ethan Foster said it looks much better on me than it does on you. Oh, and he had the mattress in the master bedroom upstairs replaced too. He said the old one was too firm and he didn't want me to be uncomfortable.”

I watched her silently, as though she were a lifeless plastic mannequin. There was no anger, no jealousy, not even the faintest ripple of emotion. I was too tired. Even breathing exhausted me, let alone getting caught up in such petty games.

Without a word, I looked away, stepped around Mia Collins, and headed straight for the stairs. All I wanted was to return to my cramped spare bedroom.

Mia Collins hurried after me and grabbed my wrist. “Who do you think you're fooling?! You're nothing but a useless woman who can't even have children. Ethan Foster could never love you! Why are you still hanging around here?”

I stopped and coldly pulled my hand free. “Let go.”

Just then, the fingerprint lock on the front door beeped, followed by the steady sound of dress shoes against the marble floor.

A calculating glint flashed in Mia Collins's eyes. The instant Ethan Foster pushed open the door, she let out a piercing scream, clawed wildly at the air, and toppled backward off the first two stairs, landing on the floor with a heavy thud.

“Ah! My back!” Mia Collins curled up on the floor in pain, tears instantly spilling down her face. Sobbing pitifully, she pointed at me on the stairs. “Claire Bennett, I already said I'd give you back the nightgown. Why did you push me…?”

Ethan Foster stood in the doorway, still holding a container of seafood chowder from my favorite restaurant on the west side of the city. His brows drew sharply together at the scene, and he strode toward us.

I stood on the stairs, watching the pathetic performance with indifference. Three years ago, I would have scrambled to explain. Three days ago, I would have desperately defended myself. Now, I only found it laughable.