Building Her Throne Burying My Heart (Claire) novel Chapter 11

Claire’s words stopped me cold.

I knew I wasn’t getting away from her today. She was determined to keep me here, and there was no room for escape.

When I looked up at her, for a split second, she felt like a stranger. The Claire I remembered was gentle and sweet, the kind of person who would be heartbroken for days if she saw a stray animal hurt. But the woman standing in front of me now was different—harder, sharper, almost unrecognizable.

What kind of pain could turn someone so kind into someone so angry? The thought made my chest tighten with guilt. I could almost feel the hopelessness she must have felt when she first saw that text message, the kind of loneliness that makes you feel like you’re shouting into a void with no one to hear you.

She stood there, my wallet in one hand and a photo in the other.

“Want them back?” Her voice had an edge to it. “You can only have one. The photo or the wallet. Pick.”

I stared at the things she held. This was just a test, I knew it. Still, that photo… it was the only piece of us I had left.

“Claire, do you really have to do this? I’m just a guy trying to get by.”

She didn’t flinch. “Really? If you know your place, then why did you treat me like that? Aren’t you scared I’ll report you?”

Of course I was scared. I had just lost my job. Another complaint and I’d be completely lost, not even knowing where to go tomorrow.

“I’m grateful you helped me out earlier,” I said, swallowing my pride. “I was rude, and I’m sorry.”

The words stung. I’d once risked my life for her, and now I had to stand here and apologize like I was nothing. It felt wrong, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“Can you give me my stuff back?”

She let out a cold laugh. “You think saying sorry is enough?”

Her words stung, but I held it together.

The truth was, that old photo had gotten me through so many lonely nights since we’d parted ways. It meant everything to me. But I couldn’t let her see that.

A heavy ache filled my chest, making it hard to breathe. I dug my nails into my palm until it hurt, then forced a smile on my face.

“Oh, that picture? It’s just been in my wallet forever. I never bothered to take it out.”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Work’s been busy, you know how it is. Guys don’t really care about this stuff.”

The second I finished speaking, I saw her face go cold.

“You don’t care, huh?” she repeated, her voice flat. “Fine. You don’t care.”

In a flash of anger, she threw the wallet at me. It hit my chest and fell to the floor, scattering everything inside—some nearly empty cards, my ID, a couple of worn bills, and some coins rolling across the tile.