Chapter 5

Claire walked down the hallway, guided only by memory.

She stopped in front of a familiar wooden door.

This was it.

After Serena had returned to the Thompson household, Elena had "gently suggested" that the master bedroom be given to her instead.

So Claire had packed her things and quietly moved into this room—barely half the size.

On her first day there, Serena had leaned against the doorframe with a smug smile and a voice dripping with false concern.

"Sis, this room's kind of dark, isn't it? Are you sure you're okay with it? I could talk to Mom about getting you a better one."

Claire had simply shaken her head. "No need. This one's fine."

But it hadn't been fine.

In winter, it was freezing. In summer, stifling. The only window faced a brick wall, so sunlight never reached the room.

Back then, she'd said nothing. She thought silence would mean less drama.

Looking back now... what a joke.

She reached for the doorknob and turned it gently.

The door creaked open.

The room looked almost untouched, just as she'd left it three years ago—except now the air was heavy with dust and the musty scent of abandonment.

The curtains were drawn, the light inside dull and gray.

She stepped in.

BANG!

The door slammed shut behind her.

The sharp click of a key turning echoed through the silence. Then—

Another sound: the distinct metallic snick of a key being pulled out.

Claire's heart dropped.

She spun around—too late.

The door was locked from the outside.

She grabbed the handle and twisted, yanked—but it didn't budge.

Then—

A rough arm seized her from behind, pinning her with brute force.

"Ah—!" Claire gasped, pain shooting through her arm.

⋯

Outside, the lawn glittered under warm lights. Laughter flowed with the breeze.

Serena sipped from her juice glass, her eyes flicking up toward the second floor every now and then.

If her timing was right… things should be unfolding now.

That idiot Claire was probably already in the room.

A small, satisfied smile curled on Serena's lips.

Not far away, Nelson stood engaged in quiet conversation with an older guest—but his eyes kept drifting.

Not missing a beat, Serena set her glass down and walked over, voice tinged with worry.

"Nelson… Claire's been gone a while, hasn't she? Do you think she's okay? Maybe the dress is tricky—she might need help with it."

Her tone was gentle, thoughtful—just enough concern, nothing overdone.

Nelson looked up toward the second floor.

"Let's go check." He set his glass down, voice calm—but his steps were already urgent.

Serena's eyes flickered with triumph as she hurried to follow. "I'll come too. I'm really worried about my sister."

A few curious socialites exchanged glances and casually trailed behind.

Then more guests, sensing something amiss, began to follow.

A sizable group made their way upstairs.

The hallway was silent.

Serena walked ahead, her steps slow and deliberate.

From inside the room—

Faint sounds.

A man's muffled groans. The scrape of shuffling feet.

Serena's heart leapt with anticipation.

She quickly covered her mouth with one hand, eyes wide in feigned horror. "Oh my god... did you hear that? What's happening in there?"

Nelson's face darkened instantly.

His jaw clenched. His gaze turned sharp as ice.

The crowd behind them began to stir, murmurs rising like a wave.

Serena, catching the shift in attention, stepped forward. Her hand reached for the door.

"Claire? Are you okay?" she called out, voice trembling just enough to sound believable.

Creeeak—

The door swung open.

Light poured into the room.

And there stood Claire.

Her hair slightly tousled, her expression icy calm.

At her feet, a large man lay curled on the ground, arms and legs bound with torn strips of fabric. A rag stuffed in his mouth muffled his groans.

Claire's foot rested firmly on his shoulder, pinning him in place—effortless and composed.

The scene was surreal.

The crowd froze.

Serena's carefully crafted expression of panic cracked, eyes wide in genuine disbelief.

Claire looked up slowly, her voice cool and clear.

"Serena," she said, "you look… disappointed. Were you hoping I'd be the wreck you imagined?"

Serena blinked, then quickly found her voice.

"What are you talking about? I was worried! We heard noises—what were you even doing in here? How could you just tie someone up? Are you insane?!"

Nelson stepped forward, his voice low and cold.

"Claire," he said, "you'd better explain."