Chapter 67 67

Chapter 67 67
Two months passed like a sweet summer breeze. London, with all its business dynamics and memories, was now slowly coming to an end. The Azure Peninsula project, the core of the Craig Corporation's European expansion, was now firmly on the right track. Raymond had appointed a trusted deputy CEO to oversee daily operations, allowing him to withdraw from the hustle and bustle of the old city.

"Are you sure you won't miss the coffee from your favorite bakery in Southbank, Honey?" Raymond teased inside their private jet as it cut through the clouds toward America.

Clara chuckled, shifting her gaze from the window to Raymond, who was sipping his whiskey. "I will miss it, of course. But there is something I miss much more back there. My own big bed, the scent of the garden at the mansion, and, of course, the true peace of our life."

"I agree," Raymond replied, reaching for Clara’s hand and kissing her fingers gently. "London was a witness to the storms we weathered, but America is where we plant our roots."

The journey home felt lighter. Alexander and Norah were fast asleep in their special seats, accompanied by their loyal nanny. Michael, Clara’s father, looked much healthier. His once-pale face now looked fresh, and he no longer felt breathless when walking long distances. As soon as the plane's wheels touched the runway in New York, Clara felt a warm flutter in her chest. They were back. Their true home, where everything began—and where they would end it with happiness.

Life in America returned to the normal rhythm Clara had missed. Days began with dropping Alexander off at the elite suburban school. Clara enjoyed the moments when she could hold her son’s small hand toward the school gate, listening to Alexander’s enthusiastic chatter about art class or his new friends. It was a simplicity she had lost, and now, she embraced it with gratitude.

In the afternoon, Clara sat in the mansion’s grand living room, accompanied by Mrs. Miller, who had stayed longer to mentor her. Mrs. Miller was a walking encyclopedia of the high-society world that had once been so foreign to Clara.

"Don't just be a companion, Clara," Mrs. Miller said one afternoon while sipping her Earl Grey tea. "A wife of a man like Raymond must have a voice. At galas, at charity events, you must be able to balance gentleness and authority. Look at me; I didn't run this business with fear, but with vision."

Clara nodded obediently, absorbing every lesson her grandmother-in-law provided. She began to gain the confidence to appear at various gala dinners and fundraisers alongside Raymond. She learned how to read a room, how to speak with her husband’s business colleagues, and how to maintain her position without losing her innocent yet firm identity.

"You are learning very quickly, my dear," Raymond praised as they sat in the Maybach after attending a lavish charity event in Manhattan that night. Clara wore a black silk gown with silver accents, looking elegant and untouchable.

"That’s because Grandma is so patient in teaching me," Clara replied, looking at her husband, who looked dashing in his tuxedo. "But honestly, Ray, I feel like something is missing. I love supporting you, but I want to create something of my own."

Raymond frowned, looking at his wife with full attention. "What do you mean?"

"I want to open a flower shop," Clara blurted out, her eyes sparkling. "A small flower shop with room to be creative. I want to be able to arrange flowers, to sell happiness to others. I don't want to just be a decoration in the mansion."

Raymond was silent for a moment. He thought about all the security burdens he might have to prepare. However, seeing the spark in Clara’s eyes—which he had kept locked away in the mansion for so long—he felt that stifling that desire would be a sin.

"I will give you the best spot in the city center," Raymond decided with a wide smile. "But, on one condition. Your safety is the top priority. I will provide a special team that won't disturb you, but will watch over you from a distance."

Clara smiled with satisfaction and kissed her husband’s cheek. "Thank you, Hubby. That is enough for me."

The following months were filled with pleasant busyness. Clara’s flower shop, named The Petal Haven, finally opened. Raymond kept his promise, providing a historic building with an artistic interior design and a glass conservatory in the back. Clara spent her days there, working with soil, pruning shears, and various flowers from all over the world. She felt alive again. She was not just the wife of a billionaire; she was Clara Hamilton, the owner of a flower shop loved by many.

However, behind the overflowing happiness in America, another darkness was creeping in a distant place.

In a quiet psychiatric ward that smelled of sharp antiseptic, Raquel sat in the corner of the room with a vacant stare. Her hair, once perfectly styled, was now left messy, covering her pale face. She no longer looked like the ambitious woman who had tried to bring Raymond down. She looked broken, alienated from the world she once controlled.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor, stopping right in front of the iron door of Raquel’s room. The door opened slowly, revealing a man wearing a thick black hoodie with a face mask covering half of his face. His eyes were hidden by the hood, creating a mysterious shadow that was difficult to identify.

Raquel did not turn. She remained fixed on the white wall in front of her.

The man stepped inside, his voice sounding heavy and very foreign. He stood behind Raquel, staring at the woman who had once been his primary pawn with an unreadable expression.

"Raquel," the man called. His voice sounded like a whisper carrying a chill.

Raquel shuddered. She recognized that voice, even though years had passed. Slowly, she turned her head; her dim eyes now widened, filled with a mixture of fear and painful memories.

"You?" Raquel whispered, her voice hoarse. "How could you..."

The man did not answer. He only stared at Raquel with a mysterious gaze, a thin smirk appearing behind his mask. He pulled a photo from his hoodie pocket and placed it on Raquel’s lap. It was a photo of Clara smiling in front of her new flower shop.

"She looks happy, doesn't she?" the man whispered near Raquel’s ear. "Too happy for a woman who has destroyed your life."

Raquel stared at the photo with trembling hands. She felt the fire of revenge that had once dimmed in her heart reignite, but this time it was mixed with fear of the figure standing behind her. The man looked at Raquel one more time, then slowly turned and walked out of the psychiatric ward, leaving Raquel gasping in the chilling silence.