Chapter 2

Emily smiled, her eyes crinkling. "I'm already thrilled with this one."

She turned toward me, batting her lashes. "Claire, you must have a whole garage full of cars to pick from, right?"

"None right now," I replied evenly. "I'll have my own soon."

Richard's brow furrowed. "When did I promise you a car? You don't need one. Focus on keeping the kitchen running."

A scoff escaped my lips. He assumed any car in my life had to come from his wallet. He missed the point: I would buy my own.

"Claire doesn't work, so a car would be a waste," Emily chimed in, right on cue. "Cooking and tidying up around the house, what an easy lifestyle."

Richard glanced my way and nodded. "True."

The sheer absurdity made my head spin.

He had a sensitive stomach, so every meal required hours of prep.

He refused to hire housekeepers because he disliked strangers touching his belongings, leaving me to scrub both floors every afternoon.

He overlooked every bit of labor, showing up to enjoy a hot meal in a pristine home.

My eyes stung. "Richard, anyone in the world can call my life easy, but you don't get to."

A flicker of guilt crossed his face as he met my gaze.

Before he could speak, Emily cut in. "Claire, you have no clue how hard Mr. Grant works. I see the brutal hours he puts in every day. You really ought to show some empathy. Even as his assistant, I hate seeing him so worn out."

Richard looked down at her with a fond chuckle. "Look at you, worrying about me. Guess spoiling you paid off."

Emily tilted her chin up. "Too bad your fiancée doesn't appreciate you. Guess I'll have to pick up the slack."

Richard tapped her forehead playfully. When he turned back to me, the warmth vanished from his eyes. "Hear that, Claire? Emily runs around putting out fires all day, yet she never complains."

I looked down, done wasting my breath. "Right. I have the easiest life in the world." I turned on my heel and walked into the bedroom.

Before the door clicked shut, Emily walked right in. She went straight to the closet, pulling out Richard's suits and dress shirts for her weekly dry-cleaning run.

This time, her eyes landed on the bottom corner of the closet, where a pile of cheap matching clothes sat. Leftovers from our broke startup days. Mementos neither of us had the heart to toss.

Emily glanced at them and called toward the living room, "Mr. Grant, there are some old rags in here. Mind if I trash them?"

Before I could say a word, Richard's deep voice drifted in. "Do whatever you want with them."

Silence locked my throat. I looked at the faded clothes in her hands. Back then, broke and scraping by, we were truly happy.

I didn't stop her. Let them go in the trash.

Emily gathered up the clothes, fixing her eyes on me with a gloating smirk. A complete turnaround from her sweet act in front of Richard.

She sneered, "Why cling to garbage, Claire? Richard fell out of love with you ages ago. Don't you see it? You begged for that car and got shut down. I mentioned it in passing, and he bought it on the spot. Must sting, huh?"

I stared at her, and then broke into a chuckle.

Flustered and irritated, she stared back in total bewilderment.

"Emily, you're almost adorable," I said calmly. "Every cheap little scheme is written all over your face. Don't you know?"