"Gilbert Watson, you really think too highly of yourself. In my eyes, you're not worth such an effort."
"Oh really? Then why did you just happen to be outside my bedroom door?"
Claire's eyes turned red. If it hadn't been for her mother's medical treatment six years ago, she never would've gone there that night.
"Gilbert Watson, six years ago, I was still your wife. You stayed out all night, and I went looking for you. That was completely reasonable. What exactly are you trying to imply?" Claire said coldly. "If you don't believe the children are yours, I suggest you get a DNA test."
She turned and walked away.
Her mother's death was a wound that would never heal, and she would never forget this man's heartless indifference.
Gilbert stared at her retreating figure. Her height, her slender waist, everything about her reminded him of that night. No wonder he had felt it several times when he looked at her, it wasn't his imagination after all.
But what about Emma?
