Chapter 16
Sophie Lane closed her eyes, letting his alcohol–laced kisses trail down her neck, but her nails dug sharply into her palm. “Claire… don’t leave me…” Daniel Reed murmured the name over and over as he led her toward the bed. His fingers threaded through her hair, and he even found himself trying to smooth the crease between her brows–just as he had done countless times before.”
The alcohol blurred the line between reality and memory. The warmth in his arms, the scent in the air–he forced them to belong to Claire Whitmore. All the affection, dependence, and reluctance he had tried so hard to suppress surged up in a drunken tide.\
Sophie kept her eyes shut, feeling the tremor in each “Claire” he breathed out. So, this man still carried that woman in his heart.&
But it didn’t matter. After tonight, he would never be able to get rid of her.”
Through the gap in the curtains, moonlight fell across Daniel’s face, illuminating the mix of pain and longing in his expression. He clung to her as if she were some priceless treasure recovered from loss, whispering that name again and again–completely unaware that he had mistaken the person in his arms.
And he had no idea that this drunken obsession he dared reveal only under the haze of liquor was, in truth, the deep–seated feeling he didn’t want to admit éven to himself.
By the latter half of the night, Daniel awoke with a sharp, throbbing headache.
The hangover left him weak, and as he propped himself up, his gaze fell on Sophie sleeping beside him. Memories of the previous night’s chaos rushed back. He jerked away as if burned, sobering instantly.”
It wasn’t Claire…
Last night… he had mistaken Sophie for her?\
Stumbling into the bathroom, he gripped the toilet and retched violently.”
Cold water splashed over his face, the icy sting clearing his mind a little, but the reflection in the mirror couldn’t hide the flicker of panic in his eyes–a panic he didn’t even notice himself. Why had he spent the entire night calling Sophie by Claire’s name?[
At the Whitmore Group headquarters conference room, Claire Whitmore stood before the projection screen, her fingertip tapping the table as she gave precise instructions in a calm, steady voice.”
“I’ve reviewed the risk assessment report for the Southeast Asia renewable energy project. The legal department needs to add compliance clauses for local labor laws within three days. The marketing department should immediately begin competitive research. We’ll hold a special progress meeting next Wednesday.”
The executives in attendance nodded repeatedly, their initial skepticism toward her long gone.”
Over the past few months, Claire had proven herself through sheer capability.
The overseas project risk control system she led the revision of had cut potential losses by 30%. Her digital marketing proposal had driven a 58% month–on–month increase in online sales for the group’s sub–brands.
Her father watched her deftly coordinate the room and couldn’t hide the pride in his eyes. Turning to Ethan Cole, he said quietly, “She’s finally found her rhythm again.”
Ethan’s gaze never left Claire. The tilt of her chin as she spoke, the slight furrow of her brows when she thought–every detail stirred a quiet warmth in his chest.
After the meeting, he walked up naturally, handing her a cup of water at just the right temperature. “Regarding the clauses you mentioned earlier, I asked a friend at the law firm to prepare a case file for you. It’s already in your inbox.”
Claire accepted the cup, feeling the gentle warmth of the ceramic seep into her fingertips. “You’ve gone out of your way again.”
Lately, Ethan had become her steadfast anchor–keeping his office light on whenever she worked late; finding top–tier resources the moment she hit a professional roadblock; even preparing background briefs on conference attendees she mentioned in passing.”
That evening, the Whitmore Group hosted its annual charity gala, where Claire made her first public appearance as the company’s representative.”
She wore an ivory custom gown, standing gracefully beside her father, unfazed by the media’s flashing cameras. Ohe reporter asked pointedly, “Ms. Whitmore, you’ve kept a low profile for years. Now, returning suddenly to a role, are you concerned about accusations of nepotism?”
management
Before her father could respond, Claire smiled. “I understand the public’s concern. But the Whitmore Group’s standards have never been lowered for a surname. In the past three months, the project results I’ve led have been publicly posted on our website. I believe capability is the best answer.“}
Applause broke out at once, and Ethan, watching from the crowd, couldn’t hide the pride in his eyes.
Partway through the evening, Claire stepped out onto the terrace to get some air. Ethan followed shortly after, draping a shawl over her shoulders. “It’s windy out here.”
Bathed in moonlight, her profile seemed softer. “Do you remember,” he asked gently, “when you were little, you snuck into one of these parties in your mom’s high heels and ended up falling on the lawn?“}
Claire laughed, the sound warm with nostalgia. “And whose fault was it for laughing and saying I looked like a wobbly little
duck?”
“Mine,” Ethan admitted with a tender smile. “But I was also the one who picked you up and brushed the grass off your dress. Claire… I couldn’t always be there for you before. But from now on, I want to be.”
The night breeze carried his words, their sincerity unmistakable.
Claire’s heart gave a sudden jolt, warmth flooding her cheeks.
Over these past weeks, his care, respect, and unwavering support had quietly melted the frost around her heart./
Looking at the man who had quietly protected her since youth, her eyes grew hot. She gave a soft, almost shy, “Mm.”
From the distant ballroom, músic drifted out. Ethan reached for her hand, hesitant at first, and after a moment’s pause, she placed hers in his. His palm was warm and steady, as though it could shield her from every storm ahead.
