Gabriel Kane.

President & CEO of Lumen Corporation.

Office: 125 – 1874

“12…5… 1874? Isn’t that…” Clara frowned as she read the office number on the business card Gabriel had handed her earlier.

Her mind raced, as she recognized something, but she quickly shook her head.

“No, that couldn’t be… probably just a coincidence,” she muttered to herself, trying to push the thought aside.

She slipped the card into her small purse and turned her attention back to the crowd. Amelia was nowhere in sight. Panic gnawed at the edges of her mind, though she tried to suppress it.

Her daughter had been to this mansion countless times, and Clara knew that Amelia was smart enough to navigate it safely—or so she hoped.

No, she’s fine, Clara told herself. Amelia always knows her way around. There’s no way she’d get lost here with all the security around.

Her phone buzzed in her purse. She rolled her eyes but snatched it out, curious despite herself.

“What now?” Clara barked into the phone. “I’m still looking for Amelia. Don’t bother me with anything else.”

“Looking for our daughter?” Victor’s voice came smoothly, teasing even, from the other end. “Well, she’s with me. We’re in my room. Come fetch her.”

Clara’s stomach twisted.

“…Fine. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll take Amelia and leave.”

She slammed the phone shut, her pulse quickening.

Shit, she muttered, her voice low. I have to meet him in that room…

The corridor leading to Victor’s old room felt unnervingly familiar. Clara had walked it countless times during her university days, long before she became his mate.

Memories of past laughter, arguments, and even their intimacy flashed through her mind, and she clenched her fists, forcing herself to focus.

When she reached the door, she inhaled sharply and gripped the handle. She opened the door.

Victor sat on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, exuding his usual mix of arrogance and charm. He didn’t rise immediately, merely tilting his head to observe her.

“Why are you standing there like a statue? Come in and talk with me,” he said lightly, as if nothing had ever happened between them.

Clara’s jaw tightened. She stepped forward, but not too close, maintaining a safe distance.

“Where’s Amelia?” she demanded, cutting straight to the point. Her voice carried the steel of authority she had been cultivating for the past few days.

Victor leaned back, crossing his arms.

“She’s in another room. Waiting for you. But I won’t tell you which one yet. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Come here. Let’s talk for a moment before you leave.”

Clara took a few steps forward, careful to stay out of his reach.

“Close the door.” Victor chuckled darkly.

“No. I don’t know what you’ll do if I close it.”

“HA! Clara Quinn, you know that I’ve slept with women far more beautiful than you,” he said suddenly.

“You’re nothing compared to them, especially after you aged and gave birth to Amelia! Men age like fine wine, women like… sour milk.”

Clara’s heart hammered painfully. Each word felt like a hand scraping at her confidence, dredging up old insecurities she had fought to bury. She had heard this before, countless times, but hearing it again now made her stomach twist.

“Just tell me where Amelia is,” she said. “Then I’ll leave.”

Victor leaned forward slightly.

“Do you remember this bedroom, Clara? The first time we… shared ourselves?” His voice was low, almost teasing.

Clara felt bile rise. “Victor, if you’re holding me here just to humiliate and taunt me, we can save time. Tell me where my daughter is!”

“Oh, come on,” he said, rising from the sofa and walking slowly toward her.

“Have you forgotten who you were before you married me? You were the one begging for this life. You begged me to mate you—your friends, your family warned you about me, yet you insisted. And do you know what I did? I married you. Even when some of my family disagreed. Be grateful, Clara. Don’t ever forget that.”

Clara instinctively stepped back, putting as much distance as she could between them.

“Step back, Victor, or I will scream.”

“Scream?” His laugh was dark and dangerous.

“This is my mansion, remember? My rules. My home. You think you can scream in my space, and it will matter?” His eyes hardened, losing the playful glint they had had moments ago.

“Do you realize what an idiot you are, Clara Quinn? I’m being patient with you—more patient than you deserve. Tell me what you want, and I might just give it to you. Otherwise, be quiet.”

Clara bit her lower lip. She gathered her courage, focusing on Amelia and the life she was trying to reclaim.

“My… My decision is final, Victor. I don’t want to be with you anymore. Not after everything. You ruined my life and our marriage bond. I am done.”

Victor raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. So she’s finally standing up to me… interesting, he thought silently.

His lips curled into a small smirk.

“Fine,” he said slowly, his tone losing none of its commanding quality.

“Amelia is in the next room. She already has her luggage packed—clothes, necessities, everything. Make sure she’s well-fed, understood? Otherwise… you can always come back to me for money.”

His gaze darkened. “This is your last warning, Clara Quinn. Don’t think there won’t be consequences for walking away from me.”

Clara took a deep breath, letting his words wash over her like water off a duck’s back. She felt the anger bubble but focused on her daughter.

“Anything is better than staying with you,” she said firmly.

“And it’s Clara Hayes for you now. I don’t need your surname. I don’t need your money. You and the Quinns can rot for all I care.”

She turned sharply and walked toward the next room. The relief was immediate, as though a great weight had lifted from her shoulders.

When she opened the door, Amelia’s face lit up like a sunrise.

“MOMMY!”

“Amelia!” Clara crouched, arms open wide. Her daughter ran into her embrace, and the warmth of that hug dissolved the tension that had gripped her all day.

Clara held her tightly, stroking her hair.

“I’m so sorry, Amelia. Mommy had some problems yesterday, and I couldn’t be there to take you with me.”

Amelia shook her head gently, her small hands resting on Clara’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Mommy. Daddy took me to the mall! But I’m tired now. Can we go home, Mommy?”

Clara smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Amelia’s face.

“Yes, baby. We’ll go home. Mommy will never let anything happen to you again.”

This was the start of their new life—one without Victor’s control, without the suffocating expectations of Quinn's.

Clara took Amelia’s hand, squeezed it tightly, and whispered, “We’re free now, Amelia. Free to live our life. Just us.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Clara felt a spark of hope.