Laura, sensing that Claire needed some time alone, gently took her hand and led her to the bathroom. Neither of them said a word. There was no need to. Claire stepped inside without hesitation and quietly shut the door behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Claire walked to the sink and stared at her reflection. Her face looked composed on the surface, but her eyes betrayed her—wet with unshed tears. She tried to breathe, to calm herself, but the pressure in her chest only grew heavier. Then came the first tear. A single drop trailed down her cheek. And just like that, the dam broke.
The tears came faster than she could stop them.
Her shoulders trembled as sobs racked through her body. She pressed her palms to the cold edge of the sink, gasping for air like someone drowning. Her mind swirled with pain that had long been buried, clawing its way back up.
How long had it been since someone stood up for her like Leon did today?
Yes, she had her mothers—Lana and Luna—who had always stood by her, and Laura, who never left her side. But that pain... the one carved deep into her soul... it came from the one man whose love she had once cherished most—her father.
The same man who hadn't believed her.
The same man who had shattered her.
Her thoughts dragged her back to that night—five years ago—etched into her memory like a scar that refused to fade.
Her father's mistress, Jamille, had accused her of seducing her own stepbrother. And somehow… there had been proof. A video played in front of family, friends, and high society guests. Her lips on his. A kiss she never remembered giving. She had been drugged, disoriented—conspired against.
"I didn't do anything, Dad! Please, believe me! I'm innocent!" Claire—then Aire—had screamed through tears, humiliated, exposed in front of everyone she knew.
Her voice had trembled as she pointed at Jamille. "Please, Dad, this woman is trying to frame me!"
But instead of comfort, she'd received a slap so hard it had echoed over the silence of the shocked crowd.
"You shameless girl," her father had yelled, his eyes burning with disgust. "Was this how I raised you? To go around whoring and kissing men? Don't you dare accuse her when she's done nothing to you!"
"Nothing?" she'd choked out, disbelief and betrayal coiling around her heart like a vice. "She's ruining your marriage, Dad, and you're letting her. She's the whore, not m—"
Another slap silenced her, this one so hard she'd stumbled back.
"Watch your mouth," he growled. "And tell me, who was the other man in the photo you were caught kissing?"
Claire had stared at the image, blurry and dark—her in the arms of someone. The man who had saved her. Her big bro.
Her voice had trembled as she tried to explain. "He's the one who saved me from Connor. Connor tried to force himself on me. I kissed them because I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing. I was scared. I wasn't myself."
"Please," she had sobbed. "Believe me."
But her father's voice had been colder than ice. "There was no reason to kiss anyone, Aire. No excuse. You've disgraced me tonight."
"I didn't do anything!" she'd cried.
"I've had enough!" he snapped. "You are no longer the heiress of my company, nor are you my daughter. You've brought nothing but shame to my name. Get out!"
Gasps had echoed around the room, and in the sea of judgmental eyes, all she'd seen was mockery, pity, and hatred. That same night, her father had thrown her and her mother out—Lana, who had pleaded, begged—but he hadn't budged.
Back in the present, Claire's chest heaved as fresh tears streamed down her face.
She had come to believe that men were never to be trusted. They left. They betrayed. They didn't listen. And when it mattered most… they let you drown.
That belief had become her shield. Her armor. She'd built her walls so high no one could reach her heart again.
But Leon...
Today, he hadn't doubted her. Even after that scene with the jealous actress, he hadn't questioned her or pulled away. Instead, he had stood beside her. Defended her. Praised her in front of the entire room. It wasn't just his words—it was the way he'd looked at her.
That tiny crack in her wall? She could feel it widen.
And for the first time in a long while, Claire felt something inside her waver. She was scared— of what she might feel for him.
Outside, Laura leaned against the wall, hearing the muffled sobs. She didn't intrude. She knew Claire was fighting demons that went far beyond today's events. She only hoped that when Claire walked out, she'd feel a little lighter.
Eventually, the door creaked open.
Claire emerged, her eyes red, her expression composed but fragile. She didn't say anything, and she didn't need to. Laura simply gave her a knowing nod, and they both headed toward the exit.
Across the street, Leon's sleek black car was already parked, waiting.
Neither of them wanted to draw more attention, so they crossed quickly, climbed into the back seat, and shut the doors behind them.
As the car pulled away from the agency, Claire leaned back and closed her eyes.
Her heart was heavy.
The car was silent, no one saying a word, Claire tried to hide her face from Leon, facing the window while her mind was deep in thought. After dropping Laura, Leon drove them to his apartment.
Claire stepped out of the car, unsure why they were at Leon's apartment, but too drained to question it. She followed him up the stairs in silence, her body still aching from the confrontation, her heart even more so.
As soon as they entered, Leon shut the door behind them—but before she could take another step, he grabbed her wrist and gently, yet firmly, pulled her toward him. The next moment, her back hit the wall, her breath catching.
His hands were on her shoulders now, tightening slightly as he looked down at her. "Why did you flinch, Claire?" he asked, voice low, sharp. "When I touched you… why did you pull away? Do I disgust you that much? Or are you just trying to avoid me?"
Claire stared at him, wide-eyed, her throat tightening. She hadn't expected that—hadn't expected the hurt simmering beneath his anger.
"I'm sorry…" she mumbled, voice barely a whisper as tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to." Her emotions were a mess right now.
The moment her tears fell, Leon's features softened. The frustration in his eyes faded into something gentler—something aching. "I'm sorry," he said, this time quieter. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Claire shook her head quickly, eyes still wet. "No… it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong."
Without saying a word, Leon gently took her hand and led her to the couch. She sat down, still dazed, while he disappeared briefly, returning moments later with a first aid kit. Sitting beside her, he opened it, pulled out antiseptic and cotton, and began tending to the cut on her cheek with such care it made her chest ache.
She couldn't stop looking at him.
Why is he like this?
Her voice came out trembling, fragile. "Why are you so nice to me?"
Leon paused, his fingers still brushing against her skin.
Claire continued, voice cracking with every word. "Our marriage wasn't planned. We didn't know each other. You didn't even like me at first. So… why are you helping me? Why are you being so nice now? Why do you care if I ignore you in public?"
Tears welled in her eyes again. "It's not like it was an arranged marriage… We're just… strangers…"
Leon said nothing.
Instead, for the first time, he reached up—cupped her tear-stained cheek—and kissed her.
Softly.
Gently.
Right on the lips.
It silenced her completely.
Her eyes widened, heart skipping, then racing, then spinning wildly as his lips lingered for a breath too long before he pulled away, his forehead resting against hers.
"I care, Claire," he whispered, voice like a quiet storm, "because you're my wife. Stranger or not… you matter to me."
This time, his words struck deeper—stripped of hesitation, layered with truth.
"Because I love you."
Claire's breath hitched.
At the confirmation of those three words, her body trembled, and her emotions—already on the edge—finally burst like a dam. The tears fell again, harder this time, raw and unstoppable. Her lips quivered as her hands reached for him, and when Leon pulled her into his arms, she clung to him like she would fall apart without him.
She couldn't keep it in anymore.
She had tried.
Tried to be strong. Tried to bury the feelings growing louder inside her heart. She had told herself it was just the kindness, the comfort, the way he stood by her when no one else did—but it was more. So much more.
He had always been there, quietly catching her when she stumbled, shielding her when she felt most vulnerable. When the world had turned its back, Leon hadn't. He defended her. Believed in her. Saw her.
And now…
She couldn't pretend anymore.
Yes, she loved him. She loved him dearly.
Even as the guilt still twisted deep in her chest—of the lies she couldn't confess yet, of the reason she was here—she let her emotions take over, just this once. Let herself fall.
Even if tomorrow everything shattered…
Tonight, she would let go. Let herself feel.
Let herself be loved.
And love him back.
Leon held her close, her sobs quieting into soft hiccups against his chest. He slowly tilted her chin upward, his thumb gently brushing against her jaw, urging her to meet his gaze.
Claire's tear-stained face tilted toward him, her eyes shimmering with raw vulnerability. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her lashes clumped from crying, but to Leon, she had never looked more beautiful.
Leon didn't rush. Without saying a word, He leaned in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to one eyelid, then the other—tasting the salt of her tears as he did. His warm lips moved gently, reverently, as though trying to kiss away every ache she carried inside.
It was slow and tender at first—gentle, searching—but as her hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, as her lips moved with his, the kiss deepened. It grew urgent, raw, honest, Fueled by the emotions they could no longer bottle up. Regret. Longing. Love. It all bled into that kiss, their lips moving in perfect sync, pouring out everything they couldn't say.
His hand slid to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her to him. His other hand found her waist, grounding her, holding her like he never wanted to let go.
Claire melted into him. For the first time in so long, she didn't feel like she had to hide. She let go. She let herself feel it all—and she kissed him back with all the warmth she'd been too scared to show.
When they finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, neither spoke. There was no need for words. Claire simply rested her head against his chest, lips still tingling from the kiss, and a soft smile touched her face.
She liked it.
She liked the way he held her, the way he touched her like she was fragile but precious, the way they hadn't needed words at all.
She didn't fight it anymore. Not tonight.
With her eyes growing heavy and her heart finally still, she slowly drifted off to sleep in his arms.
Leon stared at her, brushing her hair back as he held her close on the couch. His fingers gently caressed her scalp, soothing her, grounding her.
But behind his calm eyes, questions stirred.
He looked at her and whispered so quietly, "Why are you not telling me yet, Claire…?"
He glanced down at her bruised wrist, the faint scar she always tried to hide, and the heaviness settled in his chest.
Leon kissed her forehead tenderly and held her just a little tighter.
"How long are you going to carry it alone?" he whispered again, brushing a final kiss on her forehead. "How long until you tell me the truth?"