Chapter 89 89

Chapter 89 89
I glared at Raymond, my annoyance flaring at the sudden interruption. "Why are you yelling?" I asked, raising my voice.

"Well, I yelled because we've been calling your name for almost a minute and you didn't hear us," Raymond replied, his expression a mixture of concern and exasperation. "You were completely lost in your thoughts. Where did you go just now?"

I blinked, realizing that I had indeed zoned out completely. The last thing I even remembered was ending the call with Wilson, and then my mind had drifted off into some contemplative space I hadn't intended to visit. It was as if I'd been pulled underwater, submerged in thoughts I couldn't quite grasp but felt pressing against my consciousness nonetheless.

"Sorry," I muttered, shaking my head to clear the fog. "What did you want?" I asked calmly this time.

"It wasn't us," Sophia interjected, gesturing toward the doorway with a slight tilt of her head. "Samantha wanted to know what you'd like for dinner." She added.

I turned to see Samantha standing across from us, her hands clasped patiently in front of her, waiting for my response with that composed demeanor she always maintained. The poor girl had probably been standing there the entire time I'd been lost in my own head, watching me stare into space like someone who'd forgotten how to be present in the moment.

I rolled my eyes at myself for being so distracted. "Whatever the chef makes for dinner is fine, Samantha. As long as it isn't something heavy. I want something really light for dinner tonight."

My appetite had been unpredictable lately, especially in the last two weeks. It had been fluctuating between nonexistent and ravenous depending on my stress levels. And after the day I'd had, the encounter with Clara, the property viewings, and now this conversation with Raymond and Sophia about Wilson, I felt completely exhausted and I knew my stomach wouldn't handle anything too rich or complicated. Simple was what I needed. Simple and uncomplicated, unlike everything else in my life right now.

"Of course, Miss Claire," Samantha replied with a polite nod, her voice as steady and reassuring as always.

Before she could turn to leave, I remembered something. "How's Belle doing? I haven't seen her all day."

The question came out before I'd fully thought it through, but I realized I genuinely wanted to know. Belle had become such a bright spot in the house, her presence a reminder that innocence and joy still existed in the world even when everything felt heavy and complicated. I'd been so consumed with my own problems that I hadn't checked in on her since this morning, and guilt pricked at my conscience.

Samantha's face softened into a warm smile, the kind of expression that only appeared when someone talked about a child they were fond of. "She's been in her room all afternoon, completely absorbed in her coloring books. She's quite determined to finish her drawing."

There was a note of admiration in Samantha's voice that made me smile despite my exhaustion.

She paused, and then added with a slight chuckle, "She keeps saying it's a special gift for you and Mr. Raymond. She won't let anyone see it until it's perfect. I tried to bring her a snack earlier, but she barely looked up from her “work”."

I felt my heart warm at that, a genuine smile spreading across my face. Despite everything weighing on my mind, the chaos of running into Clara, the uncertainty about Wilson, and most especially the pressure of expanding the company, the thought of Belle working diligently on a gift for us brought an unexpected lightness to my chest. It was the kind of pure, uncomplicated gesture that reminded me why I was working so hard to build something stable and lasting.

Raymond smiled too, that gentle expression he always got when anyone mentioned Belle. His entire demeanor shifted, the protective older brother melting away to reveal the softer side he didn't show to many people. It was one of the things I loved most about my brother, his capacity for tenderness despite his often stern exterior.

Sophia nodded knowingly, a mix of pride and mild exasperation crossing her features. "Whenever Belle is determined to do something, she'll do it even if it takes her skipping meals. That girl has more focus than most adults I know."

She shook her head with a rueful smile, as if recalling numerous instances of Belle's stubborn dedication to whatever task had captured her attention. "Last week, she decided she wanted to build a tower out of her blocks that reached the ceiling. She worked on it for three hours straight, rebuilding every time it fell. She didn't stop until she succeeded."

"That's really impressive from a child as young as she is," Raymond said, his admiration evident in his voice. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a thoughtful expression. "Most kids her age have the attention span of a goldfish. The fact that she can focus like that shows real character."

He turned to Sophia with an approving look that held genuine respect. "Her future is going to be very bright, Sophia. You're doing an amazing job raising her.”

He continued, “Really, you should be proud of yourself. Raising a child while dealing with everything you've been through, it's not easy, and you're doing it exceptionally well."

Sophia's face glowed with pride, her eyes glistening slightly with emotion. For a moment, I saw the vulnerability beneath her strong exterior, the woman who worried every day about whether she was doing enough for her daughter, whether she was making the right choices, whether Belle would grow up happy and secure despite the circumstances of her early life.

"Thank you," Sophia said softly, her voice thick with feeling. "I just try to encourage her curiosity and let her be herself. I don't want to stifle who she is or force her into some mold of who I think she should be. She's her own person, even at four years old, and I want her to know that's okay."

There was a depth to Sophia's words that resonated with me. In many ways, I'd been trying to do the same thing for myself lately, figure out who I was outside of the expectations others had placed on me, outside of the roles I'd been forced to play. Maybe that's why Belle's determination struck such a chord. She knew what she wanted and she pursued it with single-minded focus, unburdened by doubt or the fear of judgment.

"She's lucky to have you," I added quietly, meaning every word. "Not every child gets a mother who sees them so clearly."

Sophia met my eyes, and in that moment, I saw a reflection of my own journey in hers. We were both women who'd been knocked down, betrayed, left to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives. And we were both fighting to build something better, something stronger, something that couldn't be taken away by the people who'd hurt us.

Samantha excused herself with another polite nod and left to inform the chef of everyone's meal preferences for dinner. Her footsteps echoed softly down the hallway, fading into the background noise of the house. The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that only exists between people who know each other well enough not to feel the need to fill every gap in conversation.

I let my gaze wander around the living room, taking in the familiar surroundings. The evening light was filtering through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Everything looked peaceful, ordinary even, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. My phone sat on the coffee table where I'd placed it after Wilson's call, its dark screen hiding the conversation that had just taken place but somehow still feeling present, like an unanswered question hanging in the air.

But Raymond, being Raymond, wasn't about to let my earlier distraction slide. I should have known better than to think he'd forget about it. My brother had always been persistent when it came to things that concerned me, sometimes annoyingly so, but I knew it came from a place of love and protection.

He leaned forward in his chair, fixing me with that penetrating gaze that had always made it impossible for me to hide anything from him. It was the same look he'd given me when we were kids and he'd known I was keeping secrets, the same look that had broken through my defenses more times than I could count. His expression was casual, almost relaxed, but I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, the analytical mind that never quite shut off when it came to protecting the people he cared about.

"So," he said, drawing out the word deliberately, "are you going to tell us why you were so lost in your thoughts just now?"

His tone was light, conversational even, but there was an undercurrent of genuine concern woven through it. He paused, letting the question settle between us before continuing. "What were you thinking about?"

I felt my shoulders tense involuntarily at the question. Of course Raymond had noticed and he wasn't going to let it go. He had always possessed an uncanny ability to read people, me especially, and to sense when something was bothering me even when I tried my best to hide it. It was both a blessing and a curse, having someone who knew me that well.

"Nothing important," I said, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue even as I spoke it.

Raymond raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying my deflection for a second. "Claire, you were staring into space for a full minute. That's not 'nothing important.' That's something weighing heavily on your mind."

Sophia shifted in her seat, tucking one leg beneath her as she turned to face me more directly. "Is it about Wilson?" she asked gently, her intuition as sharp as ever. "About what he wanted to talk to you about?"

I hesitated, caught between the instinct to brush off their concerns and the realization that maybe, I needed to voice some of the thoughts swirling chaotically in my head.

Keeping everything bottled up inside had never served me well in the past.

"I don't know," I admitted finally, my voice quieter than I'd intended. "Maybe partly about Wilson, but also about everything else.

"That's a lot to process in one day," Sophia said sympathetically. "No wonder you zoned out."

"But Wilson is part of it, isn't he?" Raymond pressed, refusing to let me deflect from the core issue. "You're worried about what he wants to talk to you about."

I pulled my legs up onto the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees in a gesture that probably made me look like a child seeking comfort. "I guess I am, a little. You guys got in my head with all your warnings about being careful and setting boundaries."

"That wasn't our intention," Sophia said quickly. "We weren't trying to make you paranoid or second-guess every interaction with him."

"Weren't you though?" I countered, not unkindly. "You basically spent the last twenty minutes telling me that Wilson might have ulterior motives, that I shouldn't trust him too quickly, that I need to protect myself from getting hurt again.”

They were yet to respond when we heard Belle's loud scream from upstairs.