Page 45 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

It was like being eight years old again, when Dad left and I thought it was my fault, when she told me he hadn’t really gone, just like she told me I hadn’t really lost Alexander. Her arms wrapped around me, her body shielding mine from the storm I couldn’t face alone. I felt her hand on my back, slow and steady,her touch the only constant in a life that felt like it was always somehow spinning out of control.

The tears came harder. She didn’t let go. Her grip was unwavering. Like I wasn’t just her daughter—I was her everything. And as much as I wanted to deny it, as much as I wanted to pretend I could make it without breaking, her embrace was exactly what I needed, even if I hadn’t known it before. I held on, letting the pain out until it naturally eased like my tears had taken it with.

“Shh, shh,” she murmured, the sound a soothing lull that quieted my racing thoughts and slowed the frantic thud of my heart. “No matter what happens, Claire, I love you. Above all else, I love you.”

That hurt more. How did I tell her I didn’t know how to save her home, how to keep Michael in school? That I felt I’d been selfish and made a decision for me instead of the good of my family. That I’d, in essence, betrayed them?

Her love surrounded me, held me up, held me together. I didn’t want to need it, but I did. More than anything. Internally, I swore to myself that I would figure things out. There was no other option. I’d get three jobs. Sleep four hours a night and more on days I only worked two jobs. I’d do this.

I had to.

When I was too exhausted to feel anything else, the apartment was quiet, filled with my mother’s love and my fresh resolve. Still, I was so worn out that even my thoughts came in fragments. Exhausted. Heavy. Still. It was almost enough to numb me into sleep, but then my phone buzzed with an email, and I fumbled for it, hoping I’d landed a job.

My heart stopped. Alexander. A new account in my name. The number in said account was clear; he sent the money. All ofit and then some. No doubt a tip for my exemplary behavior. My vision blurred, and I could feel my heart break again. It was all he’d promised. A promise I’d broken when I up and left. Walked out like the coward I am.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. The rest of the world dropped away, and I was left with the cold, impersonal confirmation of everything I was too afraid to admit. It was over. Our “transaction” was complete. He didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. My hands shook. My chest tightened. And before I could stop it, before I could hold on, tears were streaming down my cheeks again. And this time, it would take more than my mother’s hug to fix things.

I never mattered to him at all.

It was just business.

And this was the proof.

The emptiness settled in. The tightness of my mother’s embrace was still fresh in my mind, a warmth that only made the coldness of his gesture more devastating. Without a single doubt.

How had I let myself believe it was anything more?

He was right, I was naive.

The tears started again, hot and unwelcome, sliding down my face as I stared at the harsh digits on the screen. My vision blurred, but it wasn’t enough to hide the reality. It was always temporary, always something to end. Neat. Efficient. A checkmark in a to-do list, an item crossed off without thought or care.

And now?

Now I was alone.

Truly, unbearably alone.

I sank down, wrapping my arms around myself in the silence of the house, my tears soaking mom’s favorite throw pillow. He’d given me everything he promised.

So why was I still crying?

Chapter Fourteen

Alexander

The angry knock and seeing Claire on the camera startled me.

I hadn’t thought she would come here. Why show up now? And why show up angry? I’d honored my end of the deal like I promised, with gratuity because I knew things had been hard on her.

She was gripping a paper with her delicate fingers, the edges crumpled, her cheeks flushed with something hot and impossible to ignore. Her eyes blazed as she slammed it on the counter and slid it to me.

“Take it back.” Her voice echoed in the silence.

I didn’t react, my expression cool and unreadable. I had anticipated this, anticipated her stubbornness, just not exactly in this manner.

“That’s not how this works,” I said, my voice even and controlled.

Her breath was fast, her pulse practically audible and visible in her neck. A neck I wanted to press my lips to, to savor her softness. It did things to me, seeing her like this. Things I couldn’t quite ignore. But I kept myself collected, watching her lose her grip as if I were merely an observer. The damn bank statement lay between us like a declaration of war.

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