Chapter 8 - THE WHISPER IN THE CORRIDORThe federal marshals escorted Grant out through a side corridor, his head bowed, his handcuffs clinking softly against the concrete walls.
Claire remained in her seat until the gallery began to empty. As she stepped out into the marble hallway, a figure blocked her path.
It was Vanessa Reid.
The glamorous socialite was unrecognizable. Her designer coat was gone, replaced by a cheap black parka; her hair was unstyled, her face pale and drawn. The high-society friends who had once dined at her table had blocked her number and vanished into the wind.
"Are you happy now?" Vanessa hissed, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and utter despair. "You took everything from him. You took everything from us!"
Claire stopped, looking down at the woman who had once stood in ivory silk, claiming territory that was never hers.
"I didn't take anything from you, Vanessa," Claire said calmly. "You were simply squatting in a house of cards, and you blamed the wind for blowing it down."
Vanessa stepped closer, her eyes wild. "He loved me! We had a future!"
"He loved what you reflected back at him," Claire corrected softly. "An image of a successful man. The moment the mirror cracked, he stopped seeing you entirely."
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Vanessa opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She looked at Claire—truly looked at her—and saw the terrifying, unshakeable strength of a woman who had survived the worst fire imaginable and emerged forged in steel.
Without another word, Claire walked past her, her heels clicking steadily against the marble floor, leaving the wreckage of the Holloway world far behind.
