Chapter 2
Right now, Simon was just a small-time lawyer, stuck with minor cases, spending his days at the firm sipping coffee and killing time.
The receptionist hesitated for a moment before picking up the phone to call Simon Reed.
Three minutes later, a tall, lanky man walked out from the end of the hallway, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, holding a coffee mug with "Working Overtime Makes Me Happy" printed on it.
Simon Reed raised an eyebrow when he saw Claire Jennings.
"Ms. Jennings?" Simon asked.
"Mr. Reed," Claire said as she sat down in the reception area, cutting straight to it.
"I need three things done. First, I want a draft of a marital property agreement. Second, I need you to look into someone's immigration records for the past ten years. Third..."
She paused, her fingers tapping lightly on the table.
"Tell me this. If a husband fakes his own death, how does the law define that?"
Simon's hand froze mid-air, the coffee mug suspended in front of him.
He slowly set the mug down and sat across from her.
"Ms. Jennings, are you sure you want to talk about this here?" Simon asked.
"Is there something I shouldn't say?" Claire asked.
"Your husband is Edward Harper," Simon said, meeting her gaze. "Everyone in Riverside City knows him."
Claire let out a small smile.
It barely touched her lips, but her eyes were icy.
"That's why I came to you and not to the Harper family's official attorney," Claire replied.
Simon stared at her for five seconds, then pushed his coffee mug aside and pulled out a notebook from his drawer.
"Alright, start from the beginning," Simon said.
Claire didn't start from the beginning.
It would take too long, and there was no proof for things that had not happened yet. She would only sound like a lunatic if she said any of it.
She just said, "Look into Isabelle White."
Simon's pen paused mid-sentence.
"Isabelle White? Which one are you talking about?" Simon asked.
"She's Edward's college classmate. Right now, she runs a floral studio in Cloudvale. Officially, she's got no ties to the Harper estate," Claire replied.
"So why do you want to look into her?" Simon asked.
Claire looked down at her hand, her fingertips lightly brushing over the wedding band on her ring finger.
It was platinum with a two-carat diamond, and Edward had put it on her finger himself.
He'd told her then, "You're my one and only."
One and only?
She believed him. Even after her bones were shattered, she still clung to that belief.
"Because," Claire said, and her voice was as calm as if she were talking about the weather, "in fourteen days she'll pretend to rescue my husband from a car accident, and then she'll spend the next twelve years taking everything from me, piece by piece."
Simon's pen slipped from his hand and landed on the table with a soft thud.
He started to say something, closed his mouth, and decided to play it safe.
"Do you have any proof?" Simon asked.
"Not yet," Claire said as she stood up and picked up his business card. "But give me fourteen days and I'll have what you need."
"Fourteen days?" Simon repeated, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
"That's right," Claire said, tucking the card into her pocket. She strode toward the door, stopping for a moment in front of the glass entrance.
"Mr. Reed, do you believe in fate?" Claire asked.
Simon shook his head without thinking.
Claire glanced back at him, a confident smile on her lips that sent a chill down his spine.
"I don't believe in fate either. So I'm going to rewrite my own story," Claire said.
As Claire stepped out of the law firm, the sunlight hit her like a spotlight.
She paused on the steps, drawing in a deep breath.
The air carried the smell of new spring grass and the savory smell of a breakfast cart griddling sandwiches across the road, and it carried the smell of being alive.
Her phone rang.
The caller ID lit up with Edward's name.
She stared at his name on the screen, her thumb hovering over the answer button.
In her last life, she would've answered on the very first ring, her voice brimming with hope and need.
She'd say, "Edward, when are you coming home?
"Edward, the baby kicked today.
"Edward, I really miss you."
It was disgusting to remember.
Claire pressed the answer button, her voice as gentle as ever.
"What's wrong?" Claire asked.
On the other end, Edward's voice was low, carrying that familiar gentle concern.
"Janet told me you grabbed your coat and went out?" Edward asked.
He was keeping tabs on her.
That was not right either. In her last life she never saw it as surveillance, because she always believed it was real concern, and even love.
But now she wondered why he would bother watching a wife who was no longer useful to him.
What he was really watching was the heir to Harper Holdings, and that was the baby she was carrying.
"Yeah, just out for a walk," Claire replied, her voice calm and steady. "The doctor said a little exercise is good for the baby."
"Don't go too far, and be careful," Edward said, pausing for a moment. "I'll come home early tonight and have dinner with you."
He had said the exact same thing in her last life.
He was so gentle, so considerate and perfect.
He was a template of a perfect husband.
But who would've thought? On the flip side of that perfect husband template, there was another woman's name written all over it.
"Okay," Claire said, then hung up.
Standing by the curb, she let her phone screen go dark and watched her own reflection flicker in the black glass.
There were fourteen days left.
She had fourteen days to lay her traps.
She did not need much, because there were only three things to get done.
First, she had to protect her own life and make sure her body stayed whole.
Second, she needed to secure the nominee shareholding agreement at the heart of Harper Holdings.
Third, before Edward "died," she had to reclaim her legal identity and take back control.
The man at the breakfast cart called out, "Hey, miss! You want egg or sausage on that?"
Claire shook herself out of it and walked over.
"Egg and sausage, and put some extra sauce on it," Claire said.
She was starving.
In her last life, she had shortchanged herself badly. This time, starting with one breakfast sandwich, she was going to take back everything she had gone without.