"Please, sweetheart. I need to talk to Miss Claire."
Millie looked between us, her eyes too old, too understanding. She knew something bad had happened, even if she didn't understand what. She slid off my chest and padded toward the door, casting one worried glance back at Claire before disappearing.
The moment we were alone, I moved to Claire's side. She was shaking, fine tremors running through her frame, fighting to hold herself together. I knelt beside her, close but not touching, my hands clenched into useless fists.
"Claire. Look at me."
She didn't.
"I am so sorry. I don't know how she found out. I swear I haven’t told anyone?—"
"It doesn't matter." Her voice was hollow, shrouded only in fear. "She wants me gone. She'll keep doing this." She finally looked up, and the hurt in her eyes was worse than tears. "She won't stop until I leave."
"You're not leaving." The words erupted fierce and desperate, surprising even me with their vehemence.
Claire stared at me. I could tell she saw way past the facade I kept up. She saw the exhaustion. The guilt. The helpless rage at watching someone I?—
Someone I cared about.
When did that happen?
"I'm staying for Millie," she said finally, her voice finding a thread of steel. "Just Millie."
Then, almost to herself, so quiet I barely heard it, "Besides, I've survived worse than a woman in a designer pantsuit."
The fragile attempt at humor made the lump in my throat heavier. She was trying to be okay. Trying to makemefeel better about what had just happened in my own house, under my watch.
"Claire." I reached out, finally, and touched her elbow. Just a brush of contact. "I'm going to fix this."
"You can't fix everything, Mr. Ster—Nathaniel."
"Watch me."
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "Someone clearly has control issues."
"They're not issues. They're features."
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. Small, tired, but real. "Can I go home now?"
"Let me have Simon drive you."
"I can drive myself."
"Please." The word felt foreign in my mouth. I wasn't a man who said please often. "Let me do this one thing."
She studied me for a long moment, and whatever she saw made her resistance crumble. "Okay. Fine."
I helped her to her feet, my hand lingering on her arm longer than necessary. She didn't pull away.
I walked her to the front door, watching the black town car disappear down the drive before I let the fury fully surface. Then I climbed the stairs to my study, closed the door, and called Miles.
"It's Saturday, Nate."
"File a supplemental motion. Declare it’s a toxic home environment, detrimental to the child. Victoria's conducting private investigations to weaponize personal trauma against my employees."
"That'll escalate things significantly."
"Good. I want it escalated."
