Chapter 4

Elena POV

The next afternoon, James came home early. He told me he had booked my favorite French restaurant and hired the violinist I loved to play for us.

"Go change your clothes. Let's go out," he said.

"I'm not going," I replied instantly.

"Elena, you've been locking yourself in this room since the funeral. You're going to make yourself sick," he said, his eyes filled with genuine worry. "Just come out for some fresh air, okay?"

How ironic. I had spent years begging for his attention, and now that my heart was completely dead, he was suddenly playing the caring husband.

Before I could refuse again, he grabbed my hand and practically pulled me into his car. "It doesn't matter what you're wearing. It's just the two of us anyway."

I tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight.

But when we arrived at the restaurant and the hostess led us to our table, I froze.

Sitting at the table, wearing a delicate white dress, was Clara.

I turned to James and smiled mockingly. "So this is your idea of 'fresh air'?"

"She feels incredibly guilty about what happened to Anna," James whispered, tightening his grip on my wrist. "When she heard I was taking you out, she begged me to let her come. She wants to apologize to you face-to-face."

Clara stood up, her eyes immediately welling with tears. "Elena, I am so, so sorry... I know nothing can bring Anna back, but I truly want to make it up to you..."

"Shut up!" I snapped, slapping her hand away. "Apologize? Make it up to me? What kind of game are you playing now, Clara?"

Clara's tears fell instantly. "I know you've always hated me, and I know you blame me for Anna's death... but losing Anna broke my heart too..."

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. "Enough, Clara! If you're actually sorry, go kneel at Anna's grave! Don't bring your pathetic acting in front of me!"

Clara froze, then looked at James with a trembling lip. "James..."

James frowned, looking at me as if I was being entirely unreasonable. "Elena, she came here in good faith. Can't we just leave the past in the past? We are family."

"Who is her family?" I interrupted, my eyes cold as ice. "My only family was my daughter, and she is dead."

The air in the restaurant turned freezing cold.

Without another word, James grabbed my shoulders and forced me into my seat. "We didn't come here to fight. Sit down, eat, and listen to the music."

He clapped his hands, and the waiters began serving the dishes. The violinist started playing a beautiful, soft melody.

The food was everything I used to love, and the music was perfect. But I couldn't swallow a single bite. Sitting across from Clara made me feel physically ill.

Halfway through the dinner, I excused myself to the restroom.

When I walked out, Clara was waiting for me by the door.

The weak, tearful girl was gone. Instead, she had a smug, wicked smirk on her face.

"How does it feel, Elena?" Clara whispered, leaning in. "To have hope dangled in front of you, only to have it ripped away into total despair? It must hurt like hell, right?"