Anna was fuming, her chest rising and falling with every breath. But then—her lips twitched. Slowly, her scowl curved into a grin, dark and sinister.
"If that's what he wants…" she murmured, slamming the cupboard door shut with finality.
Mariam blinked in surprise. The switch was uncanny and this… this quiet, almost mischievous reaction unsettled her more.
Something was brewing in Madam's mind. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Not lingering, Mariam gave a respectful bow and left the room.
The moment she stepped into the kitchen, a voice piped up.
"Aunt Mariam! What took you so long?"
Mariam's eyes snapped toward her niece, Kira, who was hunched over the counter with half-cut vegetables scattered around her in a mess.
Clicking her tongue, Mariam strode over and smacked her lips in disapproval. "How many times have I told you, Kira? Wash the vegetables before and after cutting them. Master is very particular about cleanliness."
Kira pouted, glancing down at the mess before looking back at her aunt with feigned innocence. "Alright, alright. I'll remember."
But then she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "By the way, Aunt… can you tell me what the master likes and dislikes? That way, I can make sure I'm… prepared."
Her tone carried a softness meant to sound harmless, but Mariam's eyes sharpened instantly.
"You don't need to know that." Mariam's voice was stern, her glare pointed. "Remember your place, Kira. We are here to work, not to cross lines that aren't ours."
Kira's lips pressed into a reluctant line, her shoulders stiff. She nodded obediently, but her eyes said otherwise.
Because Kira had no intention of being "just" a maid forever.
She had seen Daniel once—just once—and her heart had been stolen. His sharp features, his commanding aura, his sheer presence… he was everything she had dreamed of.
And then, the cruel reality. The news of his wife.
Anna Bennett.
A woman whispered to be unremarkable—fat, plain, not Daniel's type in the slightest.
'No wonder the master isn't fascinated by her,' Kira thought bitterly, her eyes flickering with an indecent glint.
Her opportunity wasn't gone. Not yet.
"Aunt…" she tried again, more carefully this time. "Is everything okay between the master and madam? This morning, I saw Master stepping out of another room." Her eyes were wide, feigning curiosity, but her words dripped with interest.
Mariam froze, her expression hardening before she leveled her niece with a cutting glare.
"That's none of your concern," she snapped. "Don't ask questions you shouldn't. Focus on your work."
Kira raised her hands in mock surrender, shrugging as if she hadn't meant anything by it. "I just asked. After all, isn't it our job to look after them? I was only curious."
Mariam didn't ease. Her tone remained clipped. "Curiosity can ruin you, Kira. Don't let it."
But Kira's mind was already elsewhere.
If Daniel Clafford truly didn't care for his wife… then maybe—just maybe—there was room for someone else.
And Kira intended to be that someone.
***
Meanwhile, Daniel wrapped up the last of his work and left the office with Henry trailing closely behind.
But his mind wasn't in the present. It was stuck replaying his earlier encounter with Hugo Bennett.
The man's purpose had been clear—testing the waters, making sure Anna hadn't said anything she shouldn't.
And yet, the thought gnawed at Daniel.
'Would Anna dare tell them about her intention to divorce me?'
The very word itself twisted in his gut, souring his mood all over again. Divorce.
Bitter. Offensive. Unacceptable.
Still, he reassured himself. Hugo would never allow it. Not with the Bennetts' survival tied to the Clafford name.
"Boss." Henry's voice broke through his dark spiral. He passed a slim folder forward. "These are the call records from Miss Kathrine's number. She hasn't used it since the night she fled."
Daniel's eyes flicked down, scanning the list. Ordinary calls. Nothing that pointed anywhere. And yet… the emptiness itself felt wrong.
Unsettling.
"Maybe she's using another number," he muttered, brows furrowing. "But even then, she'd need an ID to register it."
Henry nodded. "I agree, Boss. But… if someone is helping her, they could be the one shielding her activity."
Daniel's jaw tightened. He hadn't just been trying to track Kathrine—he'd been watching her family too.
And their silence troubled him more than anything.
The Bennetts had taken no steps to search for their missing daughter. Not a whisper. Not a shadow of movement.
Almost as if they didn't want her found.
"Keep digging," Daniel said finally, his voice cold, decisive. "There's a clue somewhere. We'll find it."
Henry inclined his head. "Understood."
The car slowed as the black gates of Clafford Mansion loomed ahead, parting to let them in.
And in that moment, Daniel's thoughts shifted, slamming into him like a weight.
Anna.
She was waiting inside.
And after the morning's humiliating encounter… he wasn't sure if he wanted to face her.
Or if he could resist the strange pull that came with it.
Daniel made no move to step out of the car. His sharp eyes remained fixed on the looming silhouette of Clafford Mansion, its windows glowing faintly against the twilight.
It was as if the house itself mocked him—reminding him who waited inside.
"Boss," Henry's voice cut through his haze.
Daniel's jaw clenched, but the hesitation lingered.
Henry leaned forward, carefully choosing his words. "Is everything okay? Do you… not want to go home?"
The question struck like a splash of cold water.
Daniel's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing into blades. His stare was sharp enough to slice through steel, and Henry immediately shrank under the weight of it.
"I-I'm sorry," he stammered.
Silence pressed down on them. Daniel rarely faltered—never allowed his composure to crack, no matter the battlefield, boardroom, or betrayal. But tonight… the thought of walking into that house, into that room, unsettled him in ways he couldn't name.
Anna's face, her words, her defiance—they clung to him like a shadow.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Daniel shoved the unease into the darkest corner of his chest and pushed the car door open.
Click.
He straightened, tugging the button of his suit into place, slipping his hand casually into his pocket. By the time his shoes struck the marble steps of Clafford Mansion, his mask was back in place. The mask of the unshakable Clafford heir.
Long, dignified strides carried him down the hall, each one purposeful, each one meant to bury the hesitation that still clawed at him.
He stopped before the bedroom door. Their room.
He had no intention of yielding to Anna's demand of moving out. This was his house. His room. His rules.
Without wasting another second, Daniel twisted the handle and stepped inside.
"…"
The sight that greeted him made his composure falter, if only for a breath.