"Wendy," a sweet voice greeted me.
I exhaled slowly, refusing to let her presence unnerve me.
Claire’s footsteps echoed closer, her stiletto heels clicking against the floor. Yet, she moved carefully—as if not wanting to wake Zac.
How motherly.
"I already know, Claire," I murmured, keeping my voice level. "There's no need to pretend anymore."
"Ah, Wendy," she sighed dramatically, though her cunning eyes never left mine. "Archie and I love each other. We were always meant to be together."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Is that so? Then why did you leave him at the blessing ceremony? Why drag me into this farce of a marriage, only to return years later acting as if nothing happened?"
Claire folded her arms across her chest, her expression unreadable.
"You should have realised by now, Wendy—you were never meant to be with Archie."
My grip on Zac tightened, but I remained composed.
"I never asked for him," I said. "It was you who left. You made this bed, Claire. Now, don’t act like you’re some innocent victim."
If Zac hadn’t been here, I would have screamed those words at her.
"Stop playing the victim?" Claire scoffed. "How could I, when you ruined my life? When you killed my father?"