“Adrian, I’m so sorry—I didn’t know today was the day you were getting your marriage license.”
“I’ll handle the appointment next time!”
I’d heard about how Ethan Miller had been caring for his terminally ill mother all on his own. My sympathy got the better of me, and along with it, my suspicions about him and Claire Bennett faded for a while.
But after he messed up the appointment over and over again, I had no choice but to take another hard look at their relationship.
Claire’s defense of him became more public, more shameless. She even humiliated me in front of others just to shield him.
That’s when I realized—day by day, through endless pity, she had given Ethan not only her sympathy, but her love.
After getting my hand bandaged at the hospital, I returned home. The smell of meat filled the air the moment I opened the door.
Claire was in the kitchen. She froze when she saw me, a steaming bowl of porridge in her hands.
“Take this in to him. Say you’re sorry, and we’ll put this whole thing behind us.”
Before I could refuse, she shoved the scalding bowl into my injured hand.
Her eyes flicked to the bandages around my palm, her tone dripping with disdain.
“Don’t play the martyr.”
“Adrian Walker, honestly, if you have time to throw tantrums, you’d be better off reading a book and learning some refinement.”
“Compared to Ethan, you’re really not even close.”
The burn in my palm was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
I poured the porridge out right in front of her. The bowl shattered against the floor, hot broth splattering everywhere.
I spread my hands. “Claire, maybe it’s your brain and eyes that need checking.”
“I don’t need to compare myself to him.”
Her jaw tightened with fury.
“Adrian, how could you? Claire made that porridge herself!” Ethan’s voice came from the doorway.
I turned to him, my glare sharp. “You want it?”
He froze, not yet understanding, before I grabbed him by the collar.
“Claire made this for you, right? Then you finish it all!”
I shoved his face into the steaming mess. Ethan thrashed on the floor, gagging and choking.
“Adrian, you’re insane!” Claire kicked me hard in the back, dragging him into her arms.
I ignored her screams, walking straight back to my room.
Blood seeped from my palm as I stood at the window, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.
I dialed the number my father had given me.
“Tomorrow at one in the afternoon. Can you make it?”