There was no pleading or reluctance in his eyes, only a perfunctory inquiry.
Clara's lips moved, but before she could utter a sound, Vanessa's sweet, cloying voice came from downstairs. The voice was sickeningly sweet, like poison coated in honey: "Liam, my fried eggs are ready! Come down and get them for me!"
Clara's body froze instantly.
The moment he heard that voice, Liam turned around almost immediately, all his previous perfunctory patience vanishing. He didn't even glance at Clara again, hurrying downstairs, leaving behind only a dismissive remark, like discarding a piece of trash: "If you want to leave, be careful."
The footsteps faded away at the top of the stairs, followed by Vanessa's giggles and Liam's response. The laughter was like needles, pricking Clara's eardrums again and again.
She leaned against the wall, slowly moved to the sofa, and sat down, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the inside of her collar. There, sewn, was a miniature voice recorder containing the venomous conversation between Liam and Vanessa in the master bedroom the previous night.
With her eyes closed, her fingertips traced the cold pen repeatedly, and the flames of revenge in her heart burned ever brighter.
Just then, my phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated.
It was a call from a lawyer.
Clara fumbled for the answer button. The lawyer's solemn voice, like a block of ice, pierced her ears: "Ms. Clara, I've found the key information in the materials you need for your appeal—Noah is Vanessa's illegitimate son, and Liam's name is clearly listed in the legal guardian registration section."
Clara's breath hitched.
Before she could even process the news, the lawyer's next words plunged her into an icy abyss: "And I found out that Liam and Vanessa registered their marriage seven years ago, the same year you and he started dating."
boom--
It was as if a thunderbolt had exploded in her mind.
The phone in her hand fell to the carpet with a "thud." The moment the screen went dark, she reached for the water glass on the table, but her fingertips trembled so badly that the glass slipped from her hand.
Clang—
A crisp cracking sound rang out as scalding hot water splashed onto the back of her foot, shards of glass piercing her skin and drawing blood.
But Clara felt no pain at all.
Seven years.
Seven years in total.