Alexander carried Claire directly to the master bedroom on the second floor of the estate, a lavish space designed with an almost intimidating grandeur. The room was vast, with towering windows overlooking the meticulously kept gardens, a massive four-poster bed draped in rich fabrics, and antique furniture that looked as if it belonged in a museum. He didn't speak a word as he navigated the opulent space, his strides long and purposeful. Claire, still feigning unconsciousness, felt the jarring movements of his walk, the subtle strain in her healing body, but she remained motionless in his arms, her breath held tight.
He reached the expansive bed and, with a controlled movement, gently lowered her onto the silken covers. The softness of the mattress was a welcome relief, but the proximity to Alexander was anything but. As he straightened, his gaze, devoid of warmth, swept over her. Claire felt a prickle of unease as his eyes lingered on her legs, which were still partially visible beneath the hem of her skirt, the bandages stark white against her pale skin.
"What did the doctor say?" Alexander's voice, deep and resonant, cut through the silence. It was clipped, impersonal, lacking any hint of genuine concern, sounding more like a query about a damaged asset than a fragile human being. He began to unbutton his tailored suit jacket, his movements fluid and precise, clearly intending to stay.
Claire didn't reply. She kept her eyes fixed on the intricate pattern of the bedspread, willing herself to disappear. His presence alone was suffocating, bringing back a fresh wave of the terror she had barely escaped. Her mind raced, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't betray her fear, wouldn't give him any more power over her.
Alexander paused in the act of removing his jacket, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "Did you have a problem with hearing?" he asked again, his tone laced with an edge of impatience now. His voice was sharper, a clear demand for a response.
Claire glanced up, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting moment. His gaze was unwavering, piercing, making her feel as though he could see straight into her soul. She quickly looked away, forcing herself to maintain a semblance of composure.
"It will be fine," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, hoping the vague answer would satisfy him. Fine was a lie, but it was the only defense she had.
Alexander completely removed his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby armchair with a casual grace that bespoke immense power. He then stood, his hands on his hips, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. "Whatever relationship you had with that guy is gone," he stated, his voice flat, devoid of emotion, yet carrying an undeniable finality. "And you are my wife now."
The words hit Claire like a physical blow. She pushed herself up from the bed, ignoring the dull ache in her legs, her face contorting in disbelief. "What guy?" she asked, her voice hoarse with confusion and outrage. Her carefully constructed facade of calm shattered.
Alexander's expression hardened, a sneer twisting his lips. "Acting like you don't know," he scoffed, his eyes narrowing. "Don't bother with the innocent act, Claire. It doesn't suit you."
Claire felt a hot flush creep up her neck. The sheer arrogance, the immediate assumption of guilt, was infuriating. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, but she blinked them back furiously. She wouldn't cry in front of him. She would not give him that satisfaction. She took a deep, shaky breath, fighting for control. "Talk clearly," she said, her voice trembling with suppressed rage, "so that I can understand what ridiculous accusation you're trying to throw at me."
Alexander's eyes blazed, his patience clearly snapping. He took a menacing step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl.
"Fine. You want clarity? Okay. Whether you dated Zane Harrington before you got married or not is not my business. That's your past. And for that little stunt, that little accident involving my sister..." He paused, his gaze raking over her, cold and accusing. "...I can forgive you. For that."
Claire's face turned sharp, a mask of disbelief and pain. Her mind reeled. Zane Harrington? Where did Zane Harrington come up in this situation?
Alexander, seemingly impervious to her distress, continued, his voice dripping with condescension. "But I cannot forgive you if you show your cunning side and start having affairs. You are a Sterling now. You will behave accordingly."
Claire's fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. A bitter, almost hysterical smirk twisted her lips. "So," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "is this whole situation, this grand retrieval, all because of Zane Harrington? What a nice story. Truly fascinating." The irony was a sharp, painful blade. To be accused of something so utterly false, to have her deepest, most innocent connections twisted into a weapon against her, was unbearable.
Alexander's jaw tightened. He took another step, his hand reaching out, gripping her shoulder with surprising force, pulling her closer until their faces were inches apart. His eyes, dark as a storm, bore into hers. "You can't forget your little love?" he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, laced with an unfamiliar edge that might have been jealousy, or simply possessiveness over what he now considered his property.
Claire's eyes, already sharp with anger, blazed. This was the moment she couldn't stay still. This was the line he had crossed. The casual dismissal of her pain, the insult to her love, the vile accusations – it all ignited a fire within her. With a surge of adrenaline, she pushed Alexander away from her, the unexpected force of her shove catching him off guard. Before he could regain his balance, her hand flew, a sharp, resounding slap landing squarely on his cheek. The sound cracked through the luxurious silence of the room like a whip.
Alexander's head snapped to the side, the crimson imprint of her hand blooming vividly on his pale skin. His eyes, when they met hers again, were cold, dangerous, and utterly devoid of the slight surprise they had held moments before. He was obviously not happy with the slap. His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching furiously.
Claire, panting, her hand stinging, stood her ground, her chest heaving. Tears, hot and furious, welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "Does your sister tell about that?" she challenged, her voice raw with emotion, yet clear. "Then why don't you ask herself how she knew about my relationship with Zane?"
Alexander looked at her, motionless, the fury in his eyes warring with a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps confusion, or a dawning realization. He didn't move, didn't speak, simply stared at her, the red mark on his face a stark testament to her defiance.
The tears, no longer controllable, began to fall, tracing hot paths down Claire's cheeks. Her voice cracked, but she pushed through the pain, determined to make him understand, even if it was futile.
"Zane was just my childhood friend," she choked out, the words laced with anguish. "Yes, it's true that he confessed to me. But we are nothing more than friends. And your sister... Alexander, ask her! Ask her friend....Zane rejected Delilah, and she's just trying to play all this game to ruin me!" The truth, raw and painful, spilled out, a desperate attempt to clear her name, to defend the innocent bond she shared with Zane.
Alexander listened, his expression still unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze never wavered. When she finished, he finally spoke, his voice low, dismissive, cutting through her pain like a sharp blade. "I don't have any interest in childish discussions of..."
His words were interrupted. Claire, fueled by a fresh wave of indignation, cut him off, her voice rising. "Then listen! I don't want this childish topic of who likes whom and who rejected your sister! This is my life you're talking about!" She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, her resolve hardening. "I have my life. I gave up everything to marry you, to save my family, to save your family's reputation! And that's the worst thing that has ever happened to me!" The words were a torrent of pent-up frustration and sorrow, a raw confession of the immense sacrifice she had made.
As the last word left her lips, the fight drained out of her. The adrenaline faded, leaving her utterly exhausted. She felt her legs give way, and she sank onto the edge of the massive bed, her body trembling uncontrollably. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing, the weight of her stolen life, her shattered dreams, crushing her.
Alexander was perplexed. His rigid posture softened almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes scanning her shaking form. He stood for a long minute, a silent, unmoving sentinel, his expression still carefully blank, yet something in his gaze had shifted. He didn't offer comfort, didn't speak another word. Then, with a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Claire alone in the vast, silent space, her sobs echoing in the oppressive grandeur. The heavy door clicked shut behind him, sealing her once more in her gilded cage.