Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom novel Chapter 277

Second Floor, The Sewing Room

All it took was a gentle push of the window, and the entire garden below stretched out before her in a riot of color and fragrance.

It was Sean's idea to set up the sewing room directly overlooking the garden. He'd thought that whenever Claire grew weary from her needlework, she could simply stand by the window, breathe in the fresh air thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and let herself relax, if only for a moment.

Right now, Sean lounged lazily by that very window, his gaze following Claire and Mandy as they moved about the garden below.

He listened to their conversation drifting up to him, his deep-set eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. He couldn't help but lift an eyebrow, an intrigued smile curling at his lips.

May really had raised an astute daughter.

He'd always assumed the biggest threat to Claire would be the men outside, circling like hawks. Who would've thought it'd be Mandy who managed to spirit her away instead?

Still, he showed not a trace of annoyance. Instead, he watched with a calm, almost indulgent interest, eavesdropping on their every word.

He heard Claire hesitate, then say softly, "I... I promise."

"Really?" Mandy's face lit up in an instant. She bounced forward, throwing her arms around Claire in a tight hug, her voice bright and barely able to contain her excitement. "Claire, when should we leave?"

"How about tomorrow? I'll book our tickets in a bit."

Claire couldn't see Mandy's lips or hear what she whispered against her ear, but she was sure Mandy was already bubbling over with plans.

Hurriedly, Claire gave Mandy a gentle push, adding, "I'll go with you, but..."

"But?" Mandy's smile faltered, anxiety flickering in her eyes. "But what?"

A troubled look crossed Claire's face. She bit her lower lip, then said quietly, "I promised Mr. Foster I'd finish embroidering ‘Radiant Beauty' for Grandma. At her birthday party, Mr. Foster spent two million to win the piece at auction, but because I was careless, Vanessa tore it to shreds."

Her eyes clouded with guilt and self-reproach.

"And besides, I owe Mr. Foster so much. When I was at my lowest—truly desperate—he was the one who pulled me back. If not for him, the night Irene woke up, I would've thrown myself off that bridge."

That night, she'd even drunk two bottles of his vintage wine, each worth a fortune. She'd ended up in the hospital, unable to handle it, and he'd quietly paid her medical bills, too.

All these things—one after another—she'd kept close to her heart.

She owed Mr. Foster more than she could ever repay.