Chapter 4
It was already late at night when Emily returned home. As she was about to open the door, she heard a series of noises coming from inside.
"Philip, are you going to throw me out because of her?" Claire asked.
Emily peeked through the cracked door and saw Claire clinging to Philip, her arms wrapped around his waist, her body pressed to his chest.
"Philip, you said you'd treat me well for the rest of your life. Was that all empty words?" Claire added.
"Now that you're married, you're going to leave me behind, aren't you? Do you want me to get rid of her? Please, don't abandon me," Claire pleaded.
The veins stood out on Philip's hands, his Adam's apple bobbing as he nervously rubbed his fingers together.
Anyone could see he was fighting hard to suppress his urges.
"Claire, I'm not going to leave you behind, but I'm married now. Someday, I'll have my own kids. You can't cling to me like this forever," Philip said.
But before he could finish, Claire cut him off sharply.
"I won't allow it. I won't let you have kids, and I won't let that woman have your child," Claire cried out.
As she spoke, Claire started yanking at her own clothes, her actions growing more and more out of control.
"Philip, please look at me, okay? I'm a woman, too. I can give you children. Anything she can do, I can do as well," Claire pleaded.
Philip gripped her hands tightly, his eyes twitching as he struggled to keep himself together.
"Claire, you're drunk," Philip said.
"I'm not drunk," Claire snapped back.
Suddenly, Claire jerked her head up and pressed a desperate kiss to Philip's face.
"Please don't push me away," Claire pleaded.
Philip froze, his breath suddenly erratic. His hands, veins bulging, wrapped tightly around Claire's waist as he pulled her in and kissed her fiercely.
"Claire," Philip murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
"I'm here," Claire whispered, her voice trembling.
"My Claire," Philip whispered, possessiveness lacing his words.
"Philip, I'm yours," Claire whispered.
His voice shook, betraying how close he was to losing control.
Emily bit down hard on her lower lip, as if only the sting of blood could help her stay sane.
She stood outside in the cold, biting wind for as long as the sounds from inside went on.
Early the next morning, Emily hauled her packed belongings to the trash can by the door and tossed them all in.
"What are you doing?" Philip asked.
She turned around and saw Philip standing in the doorway.
Claire latched onto his arm, a smug look on her face as she pulled at her collar, showing off a patch of flushed skin.
"Who knows what's up with our place? There are still so many bugs in the dead of winter. You should watch out, Emily," Claire said.
Philip looked away awkwardly, clearly wanting to dodge the topic.
"What did you toss in the trash?" Philip asked.
"Just some junk I don't need anymore," Emily replied.
Emily looked on with an indifferent gaze, a trace of disgust flickering in her eyes.
Philip was momentarily stunned. As he was about to speak, Claire quickly grabbed his hand, cutting him off.
"Aren't you supposed to head to the office early today?" Claire chimed in.
At the sound of Claire's voice, Philip snapped out of it.
"I've got some things to handle today, so I'll be back late. Be good at home, alright? Don't be difficult," Philip said.
Claire nodded, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a kiss on Philip's cheek.
"Come home early, okay? I'll be waiting for you," Claire said.
As soon as Philip left, Emily was about to head upstairs to get some rest, but Claire stepped right in front of her, blocking her path.
"So, did you enjoy the show last night?" Claire smirked.
Emily froze, but Claire didn't miss a beat, her grin growing wider.
"I bet you've never had Philip treat you like that, have you? To him, you're something for him to use whenever he feels like it, aren't you?" Claire sneered.
She did it all on purpose last night.
Emily's face went pale, her fists clenched tight.
"Drop the act. I know everything, even the secrets Philip keeps in his private retreat," Claire sneered.
"You think marrying Philip means you own his heart? Dream on. He only has eyes for me. Now that he's got me, he'll hate you even more. Just wait. You'll be kicked out soon enough," Claire taunted.
Emily scoffed, her tone icy and mocking.
"Women like you can't live without a man to hold onto. All you ever think about is how to keep Philip around," Emily sneered.
Emily closed the distance between them, step by step.
"But when people find out what you two have been up to, what are you going to do? What about Philip?" Emily threatened.
Claire's face fell, but before she could say anything, Emily had already turned and walked into her room.
That evening, Philip still hadn't come home. Emily headed downstairs to grab some water and found Claire sitting on the couch, shooting daggers at her.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
"Go open the door. Maybe it's Philip. Go on, make yourself look good for him," Claire taunted, her voice thick with mockery.
Emily felt a little thrown off, but she still walked over to open the door.
As soon as the door swung open, a homeless man reeking of alcohol burst in and slammed Emily to the floor.
"Help me!" Emily cried out.
With both her hands pinned by the drunk, Emily could only look at Claire, her eyes pleading for help.
But Claire watched her with icy indifference.
"You wanted to wreck things between Philip and me, huh? Tonight, I'm going to destroy you," Claire spat.
"Claire, you'll pay for this," Emily cried out.
Emily screamed, unable to stop the helpless tears pouring down her face, no matter how hard she tried.
Claire smirked, watching Emily struggle with icy amusement.
"Give me a break. No matter what I do, Philip always has my back. He knew I was the reason you lost your babies three times, but he let it slide. You don't measure up to a single finger of mine," Claire spat.
The drunk puckered up, about to plant a kiss on Emily, but she didn't hesitate and kicked him hard between the legs.
The drunk howled in pain and let go, and Emily scrambled up, trying to run for the door. But before she could make it out, the drunk grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back hard.
The drunk slapped Emily hard across the face.
"You bitch! How dare you hit me!" the drunk snarled.
And before she could react, he struck her again, her face instantly swelling, red and almost unrecognizable.
"Claire, I won't let you get away with this," Emily snarled.
Blood trickled from Emily's lips, but Claire sat back on the couch, legs crossed, popping fruit into her mouth, unfazed by the chaos.
"I'll be waiting," Claire smirked.
The next moment, the sound of fabric tearing echoed through the room as the drunk ripped Emily's dress, leaving her pale back exposed.
"No!" Emily screamed in terror, her voice cracking with fear.
The drunk didn't stop, his hands pawing at her back, shamelessly touching her, while Claire stood there, coldly recording every humiliating second on her phone.
But Emily wasn't about to give in. Desperate, she scrambled up from the floor, snatched a vase from the living room, and smashed it over the drunk's head with everything she had.
The drunk clutched his wounded forehead, shouting a string of curses. Then, he grabbed another vase and, with a wild swing, hurled it straight at Emily.
In the next instant, warm blood trickled down Emily's forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, she felt the world spinning before everything faded into darkness.