When Sean heard Vincent’s baseless, venomous accusations, a flash of cold fury flickered in his eyes.
He started to raise his arm, ready to take a swing at Vincent, but Claire stepped in first, wrapping her arms around him.
She shook her head slightly, silently urging Sean not to do anything rash. Then she turned to face Vincent, a soft, contented smile on her lips. “Whatever you say, Vincent. If it makes you feel better to think that, go ahead.”
Vincent had expected Claire to be left speechless by his interrogation, to shrink back in shame. What he didn’t expect was her complete indifference—she wore an expression that seemed to say, “You’re right, I’m just a hopeless romantic, chasing after someone out of my league.” Her nonchalance made his rage flare, burning hot and sudden in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to shake Claire by the shoulders, to demand why she’d let herself “sink so low.”
But now, with his legs gone, all he could do was sit powerless in his wheelchair and watch as Claire clung to Sean, showing off their happiness right in front of him.
Vincent shook with anger, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the armrests so tightly it seemed they might crack under the strain.
Claire, for her part, couldn’t be bothered to explain herself to someone like Vincent, a petty clown desperately trying to provoke her.
He could think whatever he wanted. He no longer mattered to her—he couldn’t even make a ripple in her life anymore.
The more Claire acted like she didn’t care, the more unbearable it became for Vincent. He had grown used to being the center of her world—used to Claire working herself to the bone, sending him every penny she earned without a second thought. He’d always basked in the feeling of being adored, taking pride in his supposed irresistible charm.
But the devotion that had once come so easily was now gone. Claire’s tenderness belonged to another man, and Vincent could not accept it.
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