Page 12 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

The tension spread like wildfire across the table. My parents exchanged puzzled glances, oblivious to the iceberg of familial resentment they were skimming across.

"Alexander," my mother said, her voice a cautious reprimand. "Be polite to Claire's family."

Polite. My blood boiled at the word. As if there weren’t traitors right here in our midst, willing to do anything to cause pain and turmoil.

Allison’s voice cut in like a blade. "It's so great to see Jen here. Maybe next time she can bring the rest of her family."

I could see her enjoying this, every little dagger she twisted into us. "Perhaps she will," I said, my voice a smooth, emotionless counterpoint to the anger building inside. "You always did like a full house."

Her eyes narrowed. The war was on.

"We all enjoy seeing you happy, Alex," she said, the way one might comment on a homeless man finding a dollar. "Even if it did take a bit of creativity to make it happen."

My father let out a chuckle, clueless as ever. "Nothing wrong with a little imagination."

Even Claire seemed to sense the danger now. She opened her mouth, probably to say something about dessert, when James decided to turn the knife himself.

"It's amazing how fast things can change," he said. "I mean, one moment you’re on top, and the next you’re not."

His grin was insufferable. And it was aimed straight at me.

"It's amazing what someone will do to get to the top," I said, cold, calculating, and ready to go in for the kill. "Like steal."

Claire put a hand on my arm. I shrugged it off.

"Can’t steal what doesn’t belong to someone else," James said, feigning pity.

I looked at Allison. She was so beautiful in the ugliest way possible. How could I have ever loved her?

"We do have news," James said, glancing at my parents, who seemed relieved and tense all at once. “We’re going to start a family.” He looped an arm with Allison’s.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I pushed my chair back and stood, the legs scraping against the hardwood floor, a noise that I knew would echo long after I was gone. "Claire," I said, my voice clipped, "let's go."

Her cheeks flushed, she stood quickly, nearly knocking over her glass. The clatter seemed to break the paralysis that held the room, and she looked back at her sister, at my family, torn between her innate sweetness and the relief of escape.

"I'm sorry," she said, the words almost lost in the shuffle of her leaving. As she caught up with me, she whispered underher breath. "I should have known Jen would follow me and ruin things. I'm sorry."

She had no idea, even now. And I wanted it to stay that way.

I didn't look back to see their reactions. The only thing that mattered was that I was getting out of there, taking Claire with me, and leaving the wreckage of this Friday dinner from hell behind.

The penthouse loomed large and hollow, the silence between Claire and me sounded louder than the closest sonic boom. She trailed behind, a shadow growing smaller and sadder until I lost her somewhere between my indifference and the beating I wanted to give my brother, James.

When I found her again, she was curled in a corner like a damaged flower, her stifled sobs shredding what was left of my conscience. "Claire," I said, my voice a graceless intrusion. "You're not—this isn’t supposed to upset you." But it had, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

She looked up, her eyes pools of raw emotion. "I'm fine," she lied, her voice as fragile as she seemed in that moment.

My attempt to brush it off felt hollow. "We don’t care what they think," I said, my words more of a command than comfort.

"They’re your family," she whispered, as if that was supposed to make their behavior acceptable. Her shoulders shook with every word, tremors in my fault lines.

This wasn’t the reaction I expected. I thought Claire's sunny disposition would shield her, that she'd weather this storm like she did everything else. Seeing her crumble shook me.

I knelt awkwardly beside her, my presence a poor substitute for real empathy. "They’re not family when they act like that." Allison wasn’t family at all.

The attempt at reassurance hung in the air between us, clearly inadequate. Claire seemed to shrink further, and I could practically feel the warmth drain from her.

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