Nathaniel led Clara down the hallway, his footsteps quiet against the polished floor. The house felt different now—still and too perfect, like it didn't quite fit him.
He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. "This will be your room," he said.
Clara stepped inside, taking it all in. The room was big—bigger than she expected. Warm lighting, soft colors, a bed that looked way too expensive to lie on. It was comfortable, sure, but not what she'd imagined.
She forced a smile. "It's nice."
Nathaniel nodded. "If you need anything, my room's down the hall."
"Okay," she said, keeping her voice light. She wasn't about to admit she was a little disappointed. Staying in the guest room wasn't exactly what she pictured when he'd said she'd be living with him.
He lingered for a moment, eyes unreadable, then gave her a small smile and left, closing the door behind him.
When he was gone, Clara let out a soft sigh and dropped her bag on the bed. "Guest room," she muttered. "Right."
Still, she couldn't stop the small grin tugging at her lips. She was here. Living with Nathaniel. Earlier than she remembered, too. If Laura's scheme hadn't gone wrong, this never would've happened. For once, that woman's wickedness had worked in her favor.
She went to unpack the few clothes she brought, opening the wardrobe—and froze.
Inside were rows of clothes. New, pressed, and her size.
Clara blinked, stepping closer. Dresses, shirts, even shoes. All perfectly her.
"Seriously?" she muttered, a bit stunned.
There was no doubt Nathaniel was behind it. But how did he even know her size? She hadn't told him, and she doubted he'd asked Lily.
After a moment, she shrugged. "Of course he'd know," she said under her breath. "He always does."
It was thoughtful, in a way that made her chest feel tight. That quiet, careful kind of kindness Nathaniel always showed without saying much.
She sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room again. Everything was perfect—too perfect. It almost made her uneasy.
Then her thoughts drifted, uninvited, back to Laura.
"Ugh."
Someone had helped her. That much was obvious. There was no way she could've covered things up so fast on her own. Someone was backing her—and Clara couldn't figure out why.
"What do they even get out of it?" she murmured.
Laura always had people wrapped around her finger, but this was different. This was bigger. And if they were helping her now, it meant trouble.
Clara frowned, arms crossing loosely over her chest. She'd already spent years listening to Laura's insults, pretending they didn't sting. Whatever Laura was planning, she'd dealt with worse.
Her thoughts then drifted to the woman she saw at the event and how her smile strangely reminded her of her dad's.
Kind, warm and comforting. She missed him, she missed her mum. It wasn't fair, how they left this world too early and leaving them to suffer.
She looked around the quiet room again, the faint sound of the night breeze outside. For once, she felt calm.
She was here, with Nathaniel. Safe.
Her lips curved slightly. Maybe she should thank Laura after all.
Without her meddling, none of this would've happened.
Clear that thought, if not for Laura her last life wouldn't have been so pitiful, so in a way this was her making up for it without her knowing and still being very much wicked.
Clara lay back on the bed, her mind still restless but her body finally starting to relax. Whatever came next, she'd deal with it.
She wasn't running anymore.
*Grrrrrrr*
The silence was broken by the growling of her stomach.
"I forgot I haven't eaten food today," as she said that she could smell something good in the air.
"Mmm, what's that," she muttered rubbing her belly getting up to go and check what was smelling so delicious.