Chapter 4

His voice grew even sharper, bordering on hysterical.

"Claire, you betrayed him! How the hell am I supposed to know whose bastard you were carrying?! You won't even tell me! If you come back right now, I'll drop it. I won't ask. But if you walk away, I'll have you banned from the family plot! You'll never get near Ethan's grave again!"

My hand went numb around the phone.

Whether Noah had genuinely forgotten that night or was just losing his mind, I didn't care to find out anymore.

But I never expected him to use my visitation rights to Ethan's grave—and the keepsakes his family controlled—to blackmail me.

The line went dead silent for a moment.

He seemed to finally rein in his temper. He took a deep breath and spoke in that familiar, pleading tone he used to use.

"Claire, just come back. I don't care what you did with another man. Just come back to me."

I let out a sarcastic scoff.

"Noah, I just told you. Ethan and I weren't married. Who I sleep with is none of your business."

"Ethan's dying wish was for me to look after you. For five years, I did exactly that. I watched you grow up, I put you through college, I helped you build your company, and I watched you find someone you love."

"I fulfilled my promise to him. I don't owe you anything anymore."

"I'm going to live my own life now. Goodbye."

The sound of glass shattering echoed through the receiver.

Before Noah could scream again, I ended the call.

With my phone powered off, I finally slept peacefully on the flight.

When I woke up, I was at Charles de Gaulle Airport.

France. A country full of romance, art, and apparently, muggers. The second I stepped out of the airport, a tall man violently snatched my purse, dragging me to the concrete.

My forearms scraped against the rough ground, drawing blood. The stinging pain brought tears to my eyes.

A gentle male voice spoke up beside me.

"Claire, are you alright?"

I looked up into the concerned eyes of a French man.

He offered his hand and pulled me up.

"I'm fine."

I recognized him immediately.

This was Julien Moreau, the renowned painter in the Parisian art scene that Marcus had set me up with as my mentor.

I forced a polite smile, masking my disheveled state, and extended my hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Julien Moreau. I'm Claire Morgan."

He shook my hand with a warm smile.

"Just Julien, please. Marcus has told me a lot about you."

He handed me his phone.

"Marcus has been calling me non-stop. It seems you'll be needing a new phone first."

Only then did I remember my stolen purse.

Thankfully, my passport and cash were in my carry-on. The only thing I lost was the phone.

I took Julien's phone and dialed Marcus.

Marcus's voice exploded through the speaker, frantic and irritated.

"Claire! Has Noah lost his damn mind?! He's been blocking the entrance to our Chelsea studio for five hours!"

"He tracked your flight and now he's backing me into a corner, demanding answers. He asked if I was the one who got you pregnant! Are you pregnant? Whose kid is it?!"

His brain was moving a mile a minute, but he finally remembered to tell me to focus on my residency with Julien.

I sighed, rubbing my temples.

"Marcus, ignore him. I took care of him for five years. I did everything I promised Ethan I would do. I don't owe them another second of my life."

Marcus fell silent for a beat.

"Alright. Don't let him ruin Paris for you."

I blinked, then let out a genuine laugh.

"You knew? You knew Noah and I weren't just 'family' anymore?"

Marcus chuckled.

"You're a painter, Claire. You should know emotions bleed through the eyes. His did, too."

I immediately shut that down.

"No, they didn't. He's found his true love."

Marcus didn't argue. He just exchanged a few words with Julien before hanging up, muttering something about getting security to drag Noah off the premises.

I grabbed my luggage and got into Julien's car.