Chapter 2

Claire's POV

I adjusted my expression and pushed open the master bedroom door.

Only a floor lamp was lit in the room, the lighting dim.

Sebastian was sitting on the sofa, holding a report in his hand.

Hearing the door open, he unhurriedly turned a page.

This excessive quietness made my scalp tingle instead.

"You're back?"

He finally spoke, his voice low and unreadable.

I changed out of my coat, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Yes, I went back to the family."

The sound of turning pages stopped abruptly.

Sebastian closed the file and casually tossed it onto the side table.

He looked up, his deep eyes landing on me.

In that instant, I had the illusion of being trapped.

"Come here."

He leaned back in his chair and extended his hand toward me.

I stiffly walked over and stood before him.

Sebastian grabbed my wrist and pulled.

I lost my balance and fell onto the armrest of the sofa, forced into close proximity with him.

"Your hands are so cold?"

My heartbeat skipped.

"It's a bit cold outside."

I lied, turning my head away, not daring to look into his eyes.

Sebastian let out a soft laugh, though the amusement didn't reach his eyes.

He forced me to turn my head and face him.

"Claire, you're very distracted today."

His fingers slid down my cheek and pinched gently.

"Did something happen?"

I bit my lip lightly and swallowed back the words that had reached my mouth.

I wasn't sure if he knew Isabelle had returned, much less how to bring up this matter.

"No."

I met his gaze, forcing a smile.

"Maybe I'm just tired."

Sebastian stared at me for a long time, then released his hand.

"If you're tired, rest early."

In the morning when I left for work, just as I drove out of the residential complex's underground parking garage, a figure suddenly rushed out.

I braked in shock, looking up to see Isabelle's twisted face pressed against the windshield.

She pounded on the hood violently, looking exactly like a madwoman.

"Claire! Get out here!"

"You shameless woman! Stealing your sister's husband, stealing your sister's son. Give them back to me!"

It was rush hour, and people were coming and going at the complex entrance.

Passing pedestrians and security guards all stopped, pointing and whispering.

Isabelle's hair was disheveled, making her look pitiful.

"I'm the child's mother! She stole my husband, stole my child!"

Public opinion exploded instantly.

"Oh my God, is this the wife coming to collect a debt?"

"So the current Mrs. White was a mistress who seized the position?"

I sat in the car, coldly watching her performance.

I locked the doors and lowered the window just a crack.

"Make any more trouble and I'll call the police."

My voice wasn't loud, but in the noisy environment it was exceptionally clear.

Isabelle's movements paused.

She pressed against the window, revealing a strange smile.

Through the glass, she mouthed the words to me.

"The son is mine by birth. You can't steal blood ties."

Those words were like a needle, precisely stabbing into the most painful place in my heart.

My fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Security finally reacted and rushed forward to pull her away.

"Move!"

I hit the gas, and the car shot forward, its body brushing past Isabelle's skirt hem.

In the rearview mirror, Isabelle was still smiling, triumphant.

When I got to the company, I sat in my office holding cold coffee, my heartbeat still not settled.

Images from childhood flashed through my mind.

Isabelle was the family jewel, I was the pedestal.

When she got in trouble, I took the blame. When she didn't want to do her homework, I did it for her.

Seven years ago, she got pregnant out of wedlock and eloped.

The family collapsed.

To preserve their wealth and glory, my parents pushed me out to fill the hole.

I knelt on the ground begging them, saying I'd just graduated, I had my own life.

Father slapped me awake.

"Isabelle is gone, you have to take her place! The family didn't raise you all these years to be a freeloader!"

Mother just cried.

"Claire, the family can't fall. Just think of it as saving your mother."

I thought about dying.

It was Sebastian who added terms to the prenuptial agreement.

He would help the family pay off debts, give me the dignity and power of Mrs. White, on the condition that I must be a perfect wife and treat Connor as my own.

This was a transaction where I traded my dignity and seven years of youth.

Now Isabelle wanted to come back and pick the fruit?

Dream on.

Since they forced me to sacrifice to create this situation, don't think I'll give it up easily now.

I don't owe the family anything.

The family owes me.

Just as I was thinking, the office door was pushed open.

Besides Sebastian, no one dared enter my office without knocking.

I quickly adjusted my expression.

"Sebastian? What brings you here?"

Sebastian wore a dark gray custom suit, carrying the cold air from outside.

He didn't answer, walking straight behind me.

A pair of large hands encircled my waist.

My body stiffened for a moment, then I forced myself to relax.

This was his territory, and I was his possession.

"Passing by, came to check on you."

His chin rested in the hollow of my neck, warm breath spraying at my ear.

"That recent acquisition case was well done."

"As it should be."

"Connor keeps asking to see you."

He suddenly mentioned the child.

My heart tightened.

Did he know Isabelle had gone to see the child? Or was he hinting at something?

"I'll go home to spend time with him tonight."

I turned around and straightened his tie, my movements practiced and natural.

Sebastian looked down at me, his eyes deep.

"As long as you're obedient."

He patted my face, his tone meaningful.

"No one can take your place as Mrs. White."

With that, he released me and turned to leave.

It wasn't until the door closed that I felt a cold sweat on my back.

He knew everything, as expected.

As long as I behaved and didn't let Isabelle make things blow up, I would still be Mrs. White.

I looked at the city beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, my gaze gradually turning cold.

Relying on a man was indeed not as good as relying on myself.