Claire folded her arms across her chest, her expression unreadable.

"You should have realised by now, Wendy—you were never meant to be with Archie."

My grip on Zac tightened, but I remained composed.

"I never asked for him," I said. "It was you who left. You made this bed, Claire. Now, don’t act like you’re some innocent victim."

If Zac hadn’t been here, I would have screamed those words at her.

"Stop playing the victim?" Claire scoffed. "How could I, when you ruined my life? When you killed my father?"

I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "Me? Your father died in an accident, Claire. I had nothing to do with it."

Claire’s eyes burned with resentment. "He wouldn’t have been in that accident if not for your father’s ridiculous request!"

I closed my eyes, inhaling sharply.

The past came rushing back—years ago, when Claire and I had been young. When we had been friends. When our fathers had worked side by side at Grandfather James’ company—Archie’s grandfather.

I still didn’t understand where her hatred stemmed from. All because my father had made a request? Even though he, too, had died that day?

My father had been suffering from a rare disease. Claire’s father—his younger brother—had spent days searching for medicine across the city. But exhaustion took its toll. He never made it home.

And yet, Claire refused to see reason. She blamed me for everything.

"After making my father die, you took Archie away from me," she spat. "You took everything that was mine."

"I told you—I never took him from you!" My voice trembled with frustration. "And I didn’t kill your father! You need to stop blaming me for fate!"

Claire’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Fate?" she whispered. "Fate didn’t make my father get into that car that night. Fate didn’t make Archie fall for you instead of waiting for me."

I clenched my fists. "You left him. You made that choice."

Claire shrugged, then her expression darkened.

"But I’m back now," she said softly. "And I’m taking back what’s mine."

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Zac stirred, whimpering in his sleep.

Before I could react, Claire turned towards the cot, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. She smiled, stroking his tiny hand. Then, without warning, she raised her voice.

"Please, Wendy, don’t!" she cried out, her tone laced with fear.

I blinked in shock.

"Wendy—how could you?!" Claire gasped dramatically. "You were trying to hurt Zac—!"