Chloe stared at him with dawning horror.
“You’re ruined,” she whispered.
He looked up, eyes red.
“No,” he said. “I’m not ruined.”
But outside, reporters were already gathering beyond the gates.
And inside, every room echoed with the absence of a woman he had mistaken for furniture.
At Vance Manor, Clarissa watched the sunrise from a balcony wrapped in a cashmere blanket. The estate smelled faintly of pine, rain, and childhood. Her father approached quietly, carrying two cups of tea.
“You should sleep,” Arthur said.
“I don’t think I remember how.”
He handed her a cup.
For a while, they said nothing.
Then Arthur’s voice softened. “I failed you.”
Clarissa looked at him sharply. “No.”
“I let pride keep me away. I should have come sooner.”
“I asked you not to.”
“And I should have ignored you.”
A sad smile touched her mouth.
“Dad, I needed to learn that choosing love should not mean abandoning myself.”
