“Adrian, I can take those with me!”
Ethan lunged barehanded, and the scissors sliced across his skin.
His sharp cry sobered Claire instantly. She shoved me hard, and I stumbled back, glass shards digging into my palm.
“Adrian Walker, what is wrong with you?”
“Smashing things, hurting people—can you not act like a man for once?”
“Ethan just lost his mother! You lost yours too! Can’t you show him some compassion?”
Her words cut deeper than glass.
My mother’s death was my greatest regret.
Back then, Claire and I were studying overseas. Restrictions kept me from flying home.
I said goodbye to my mom through a screen.
Even now, I wake at night, haunted by the ache of missing her.
And Claire knew this.
Yet she used it against me—just to defend Ethan.
Without a backward glance, she wrapped an arm around him and left.
I stared at the blood seeping from my palm, bitterness rising until it filled my chest.
“Mom, the woman you chose turned out rotten.”
“I don’t want her anymore.”
The silent living room gave me no reply.
My mother had always adored Claire.
She and Claire’s mother, Margaret Bennett, had been best friends. They arranged our engagement when we were children.
So when the Bennett family was choosing an heir, my father staked everything to support Claire in winning the role.
At just twenty, Claire stood on my family’s shoulders and secured a billion-dollar investment.
When my mother passed, Claire knelt before the video camera and swore, word by word:
“Auntie, don’t worry. I’ll make Adrian happy for the rest of his life.”
Later, when we graduated and returned from the United States, the wedding was set in motion.
But at the start of this year, Ethan began his internship at the Bennett Group.
And the story derailed—like a train switching tracks.
As her assistant, Ethan often called Claire late at night, sending messages at all hours.
Once, even while she and I were in bed, she shoved me aside to answer his call.
I grew suspicious, searched her phone, but found nothing.
The first time I met Ethan was in Claire’s passenger seat.
That was supposed to be our marriage license day.
Before we even entered the City Hall Marriage Bureau, one call from Ethan had her driving away.
I waited outside until the office closed.
Later she returned, and Ethan, seeing me, quickly slipped into the back seat.
“If it weren’t for Ms. Bennett today, my mother wouldn’t even have been admitted to the hospital.”