Clara didn't pack much—just what she needed. A few clothes, toiletries, and her phone. The rest could wait. She didn't want to stay in that apartment another minute. Too many memories clung to the walls, too much unease. Too much Laura.
Nathaniel waited by the door, her bag already in hand. Lily hovered nearby, arms crossed, giving them both a hard stare. "If anything happens to her, Nathaniel, I'll kill you myself," she warned.
He only sighed. "Noted."
Clara gave her sister a quick hug. "I'll text you when we get there."
"You'd better," Lily said, squeezing her tight before letting her go.
The drive was quiet, filled only by the hum of the engine and the occasional flicker of passing streetlights. Clara leaned against the window, watching the city glide by. Her thoughts spun restlessly—part worry, part relief, part… something else she didn't want to name.
When the car stopped, her breath caught.
Nathaniel's house—more like a mansion—looked even bigger in the evening light. The garden lights glimmered in the windows, and Clara had to blink. She didn't remember it being this huge.
"I don't remember it being this big," she said quietly.
Nathaniel gave a half-smile. "My stepmother had it renovated. She likes to make everything look... extravagant."
They hadn't even made it up the steps before raised voices echoed from inside.
A woman's voice. Sharp, commanding. "No, no, no! I said polish, not drown the floors! Do I have to do everything myself?"
Nathaniel groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."
When they stepped through the door, the voice grew louder. Then she appeared—a tall woman in a crimson dress, heels clicking against marble, her perfume heavy in the air. Two maids followed, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.
"Stepmother," Nathaniel said flatly.
She turned, her painted smile snapping into place. "Nathaniel! What a surprise."
"What are you doing here," he said, crossing his arms, "and why are there maids in my house?"
She blinked at him, feigning innocence. "Is there something wrong with a mother checking up on her son?"
"Stepmother," he corrected.
She waved a hand dismissively. "Details. I thought you could use some help. This place is far too big for one person, so I brought a few maids."
"I've told you," Nathaniel said, voice tightening, "I don't need them. Stop bringing people into my house."
Her smile faltered slightly, but before she could respond, her gaze shifted—landing on Clara.
"And who is this?" she asked, her tone turning cool.
Nathaniel moved closer to Clara. "My fiancee."
The woman froze for a fraction of a second, then smiled again—but her eyes said something else. "Oh," she said, her voice laced with mock surprise. "The one whose parents died, isn't it? The poor girl you decided to help?"
Clara's stomach tightened, but she didn't flinch.
It was true. When her parents had died during her second year of university, her world had collapsed. Lily had worked herself half to death, juggling three jobs just to keep them afloat, but it hadn't been enough. Nathaniel—her childhood friend, who'd just taken over his father's company—had quietly paid what she couldn't afford. She'd promised herself she would repay him someday.
So when he came to her months later, asking her to pose as his fiancée to get his stepmother off his back, she'd agreed without hesitation. It was the least she could do.
"Why would you say that?" Nathaniel's tone snapped like a whip.
"Oh, come now," she said, tilting her head. "I'm just saying what everyone already knows. An orphan you took pity on… now your fiancée? My, how generous of you."
Nathaniel's glare could've cut glass. "Leave."
"Excuse me?" she asked, arching a brow.
"You heard me. Take your maids and leave. Now."
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. She turned sharply on her heel, calling the maids after her. Her heels echoed down the hallway until the front door slammed shut.
For a long moment, silence hung in the air. Clara finally exhaled. "Well… that went great."
Nathaniel ran a hand down his face. "She's impossible."
"She's intense," Clara corrected softly, setting her bag down. "But I'll survive."
He looked at her, half worried, half impressed. "You handled that better than I expected."
Clara shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "She doesn't scare me. I've met scarier people… and lived with Lily."
She had already spent five years listening to Laura insult and condescend her every chance she got. What was a potential stepmother-in-law going to do? The only thought that mattered was Nathaniel's—and she wasn't leaving anytime soon, she thought.
That earned a quiet laugh from him, the tension easing slightly.
As she followed him further inside, Clara couldn't help looking around. The halls were wide and quiet, the chandeliers glittering above like something out of a showroom. Everything looked expensive—too expensive. It didn't feel like Nathaniel at all.
But under the unease, she felt something else. Excitement.
She was moving in with Nathaniel—earlier than she had the first time around. It wasn't under the best circumstances, but she couldn't help the small spark of happiness that bloomed in her chest.
For once, she was where she wanted to be.
And as ridiculous as it was, she almost wanted to thank Laura for being so evil.