Chapter 6 - The Robe on Her Shoulders
The mistress pulled the robe tighter around herself.
For the first time, she looked uncomfortable wearing it.
Good.
Claire wanted that discomfort to grow.
Not because the robe mattered more than the affair.
Because the robe was intimacy stolen in fabric form.
A woman could be kissed in secret.
Called beautiful.
Promised things.
But putting on the wife’s robe meant walking into her skin.
It meant accepting the illusion that Claire had already been removed.
The mistress looked toward the staircase.
“Is that your bedroom?”
Claire followed her gaze.
The staircase curved upward beneath a framed oil painting Ethan had once hated but Claire loved. He had agreed to hang it because she said it made the house feel less like a hotel and more like a place people lived.
Had the mistress walked past it?
Touched the banister?
Opened drawers?
Sat at Claire’s vanity?
Claire’s stomach turned.
Ethan saw her face and said quickly, “She hasn’t been upstairs tonight.”
Tonight.
Another fatal word.
Claire’s eyes snapped to him.
“Tonight?”
He froze.
The mistress closed her eyes briefly.
Her own mistake mirrored in his.
The house kept giving them away.
Claire took one step toward Ethan.
The cleaning cart remained between them, a ridiculous barrier of spray bottles and towels that somehow felt like the only honest object in the room.
“Was that supposed to comfort me?”
“Claire.”
“No. Say it again. Tell me which nights she did go upstairs.”
His face hardened.
“Careful.”
The word turned the air sharp.
Grace moved in the doorway.
Claire lifted one hand slightly, signaling her not to enter.
This was still dangerous.
Not physically, perhaps.
But emotionally.
Financially.
Legally.
Socially.
Ethan did not need to shout to destroy. He knew how to turn rooms, lawyers, staff, friends, and rumors into weapons.
The mistress seemed to understand that too.
Her entitlement thinned into fear.
“Ethan, you said she was separated from you.”
Claire looked at him.
Separated.
Her lips trembled.
“We had breakfast together this morning.”
The mistress’s face drained.
Ethan’s jaw worked.
Claire continued.
“You kissed my forehead before leaving for the office.”
The mistress stared at him.
“You told me she lived at the lake house.”
Claire laughed once, broken and sharp.
“I chose the curtains in this room two weeks ago.”
Ethan’s face twisted with rage now.
Not guilt.
Rage at being exposed from two sides.
Claire saw the man beneath the charm.
May you like
The one Grace had tried to warn her about.
Read Chapter 7 👉 Because Ethan’s lies began colliding, and the mansion turned from a romantic hideout into a room full of witnesses.
