A flash of guilt crossed Claire's face—gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by self-righteous indignation.
"Liam, what are you implying?" She straightened her spine. "Even if we are close, isn't that normal? We work together day and night. Ethan is like family. Like a younger brother."
She glared at me, eyes blazing. "Are you seriously jealous of a brother?"
I sneered. "Is that so?"
I leaned in, locking eyes with her. "Is that why you treat your 'good little brother' to special milk tea?"
Claire froze.
"Are you done?" she snapped, voice rising. "You're going to keep clinging to that nonsense? Is that all you have?"
"Fine! If it bothers you so much, I'll let you have some too!"
Claire's face flushed crimson, her voice shrill with humiliation and rage.
"No need," I said flatly. "The thought alone makes me sick."
"This won't do, that won't do—what exactly do you want?" She finally snapped.
"Divorce. How many times do I have to say it?"
Claire took a ragged breath, forcing her expression to soften. One last desperate play.
"Liam, please. I love you." Her eyes welled up. "Our daughter is so young. Do you really want her growing up in a broken home? As long as we don't divorce, I'll do anything."