Chapter Two

Claire's POV

I kept driving north.

With every mile I put behind me, it became a little easier to breathe.

In my previous life, I had never left Boston during those three years. I had been trapped in that mansion, little more than a pretty decoration.

This time, I wanted to get as far away as possible.

After six hours on the road, I pulled into a gas station to fill up and take a break.

Inside the convenience store, a television mounted on the wall was replaying the scene I had caused at the gala the night before. The red wine hitting Everett’s face. My ring falling into the champagne tower. Glass shattering across the floor.

The clerk stared at the screen and shook his head.

“Rich people and their drama. She threw away a million-dollar ring like it was nothing.”

I looked at Everett’s furious face on the screen and smiled to myself.

Good.

He could clean up his own mess. He could explain to those investors he cared so much about why Mrs. Thorne had publicly walked out on him.

At the register, I picked up a map of Maine. I traced the coastline north until my finger stopped on a tiny dot near the edge of the map.

Port Haven.

Twelve hours from Boston.

That was it.

Once the tank was full, I got back on the road.

It was nearly dark when I arrived in Port Haven. The town had only one main street, with a grocery store, a hardware store, a clinic, and a library lined up beside one another.

The air smelled of salt and pine.

There were no luxury cars, no expensive suits, and no fake smiles.

Something tight inside my chest finally began to loosen.

I parked outside a real estate office. An elderly woman with white hair stepped out and took in my expensive black dress and exhausted face.

“You’re running from something.”

I was silent for a moment, then nodded.

The woman patted my arm.

“Then you came to the right place. You can call me Mrs. Whitcomb. I have a cottage up by the cliffs. It’s old, but the view out there can do wonders for a person.”

The cottage was small. Its paint was peeling, and part of the porch had collapsed.

But the moment she opened the door, I saw the Atlantic through a floor-to-ceiling window that spanned the entire wall. The setting sun had turned the water red and gold.

I pressed my hand against the glass.

For the first time since my mother died, I felt like I could breathe again.

The Thorne estate had been filled with cold marble and million-dollar paintings. Every room was too large and too empty. The room with my mother’s piano had always been kept locked.

Everything in that house had reminded me that I did not belong there.

Yet this rundown little cottage felt like a place where I could truly live.

“I’ll take it.”

Mrs. Whitcomb blinked.

“You don’t even want to know the rent?”

“No. It’s perfect.”

She did not ask any more questions. She simply nodded.

“You can move in tomorrow.”

The next day, I went into town for supplies.

The owner of the grocery store smiled warmly at me.

“You’re the new woman staying in the cottage by the cliffs, aren’t you? If you ever need anything, go see Dr. Mercer next door. He’s a good man. He’s taken care of half the people in this town.”

Next door was a small clinic with a blue sign that read, “Port Haven Family Clinic, Dr. Owen Mercer.”

I nodded but did not give it much thought.

Back at the cottage, I unpacked the things I had brought with me. Most of them had belonged to my mother.

There was a photograph of us together in the park and another of her teaching children to play the piano. I placed them on the windowsill.

The last thing I unpacked was her keyboard. It had been cheap, and the keys had yellowed with age, but it was hers.

I sat down and played the first song my mother had taught me when I was six.

My mother had been a piano teacher, and I had studied piano with her since I was a child. But after I married into the Thorne family, the grand piano at the estate was nothing more than decoration. I was not even allowed to touch it.

This time, I was going to reclaim everything I had lost.

When the final note faded, I closed my eyes.

For the first time, I felt at peace.

Hundreds of miles away, Everett’s father slammed his hand down on the conference table at Thorne Medical Group.

“What the hell happened last night? The media is having a field day! Investors are asking whether we still have this company under control!”

Everett kept flipping through the documents in front of him without looking up.

“She just lost her mother. She had an emotional breakdown. She’ll come back once she calms down.”

At the other end of the table, Celeste spoke softly.

“Everett, maybe you should go find her.”

Everett glanced at her. His expression softened for a moment before he gave a cold laugh.

“Where could she possibly go? She has no family, no money, and no connections. Sooner or later, she’ll realize she can’t survive without the Thorne name.”

“What if she takes the contract to the press?”

Everett snapped the file shut.

“She won’t. And even if she does, who’s going to believe her? A woman who spent three years living in luxury as Mrs. Thorne, complaining about the deal that paid for her mother’s treatment?”

He was certain I would return.

As far as he was concerned, I had no other choice.

What he didn’t know was that I would never go back.

That evening, I stood at the edge of the cliff as the wind off the ocean blew through my hair.

My phone was turned off and tucked inside a drawer at the cottage. Everett had called thirty-seven times since the previous night.

I had not answered once.

At the estate, I checked my phone the moment I woke up every morning. I checked to see what Everett needed, which events I had to attend, and what duties I had to fulfill as Mrs. Thorne.

This time, I didn’t even need my phone.

I was free of the Thorne name and the cold, distant man who had always ordered me around.

It was just me and the ocean.

I looked toward the horizon.

The shadows of my past were gone. So was my fear of the future.

There was only this moment and absolute freedom.