27| Unwelcome Visitor

Sophie was closing up after another busy day at the shop. Lily and Marianne, their part-timer, had already left, but she decided to stay back to finish inventory.

She had just sent home her last customer—a kind office worker who often bought flowers for his wife—when the soft chime of the shop's bell startled her.

Strange. She was certain she had flipped the sign to Closed.

"I'm sorry, we're closed for today," Sophie called out, her usual cheerful tone automatic. But as she looked up, her smile faltered.

Claire Montgomery.

Her designer heels clicked sharply against the tiled floor, each step measured and deliberate.

Everything about her—her perfectly tailored coat, the slight tilt of her chin—exuded effortless sophistication. The kind of confidence that didn't need permission to command a room.

Her eyes swept over the shop, taking it in with an almost predatory gaze.

"Oh, hello, Sophie."

Her voice was smooth, pleasant—but with an edge.

"I hope you can make an exception for me."

Sophie's grip on her clipboard tightened slightly, but she forced herself to remain professional.

"Sure, Claire. Is there something specific you're looking for?"

Claire waved a perfectly manicured hand, as if the details didn't concern her. "Not really. You're the expert—surprise me."

Sophie resisted the urge to sigh.

"Sure," she replied instead, polite but resigned.

The sooner she put a bouquet together, the sooner Claire would be out of her shop.

"You don't mind if I look around, do you?" Claire asked, her tone deceptively casual. "I've always wondered where Ethan's wife spends her days."

Sophie's smile stiffened.

She forced herself to nod, her fingers tightening around the stem of a lily as Claire wandered the shop.

Her movements were deliberate, her gaze lingering a little too long on everything but the flowers—as if she were inspecting something more personal.

Eventually, Claire drifted closer, pausing near a display case beside Sophie.

She let her gaze linger on the blooms before speaking.

"You know, I've always been amused by people who spend their time making pretty things."

Her voice was light, almost mocking.

"It's not particularly lucrative, is it? But I suppose they must find something fulfilling about wasting their time."

Sophie felt her shoulders stiffen, but she kept her voice level.

"I guess you don't have a hobby, then, Claire?"

Claire let out a light laugh.

"A hobby? What's the point of spending time on something that doesn't benefit you?"

She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving in amusement.

"Utterly pointless."

Sophie didn't look up, focusing instead on wrapping the bouquet in brown paper.

"If it makes you happy, I'd say that's a pretty good benefit."

Claire arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Has anyone ever accused you of being... wishy-washy?"

Sophie's hands paused for only a moment before she responded calmly. "No, you're the first."

"Odd," Claire remarked, tapping her long fingers against the counter.

Then, her lips curved in satisfaction.

"You're probably wondering about my relationship with Ethan."

Sophie glanced up briefly, choosing not to engage, but Claire pressed on regardless.

"We're just friends, of course. We practically grew up together. Very close," she said, emphasizing the word in a way that made Sophie's stomach twist. "But don't worry—we're just friends."

Claire's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Ethan has always drawn attention—like a piece of prime meat. And trust me, I've always been very good at swatting away the flies."

Sophie's jaw tightened, but she kept her composure. Breathe.

She reminded herself that Claire was only saying these things to get under her skin.

Claire leaned casually against the counter, watching Sophie with glinting amusement, like a predator circling its prey.

"You know, the last time I saw you, you looked like a deer in headlights."

She sighed, as if in mock sympathy.

"You really can't show weakness in high society. If you ever need help navigating that world, I'd be more than happy to offer my guidance. Ethan and I are so close, it would be rude not to."

Sophie tied the ribbon around the bouquet a little too tightly, but her smile remained fixed.

"Thanks for the offer," she said, her fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed the ribbon, "but I think I'm doing just fine."

Claire's smirk deepened, eyes flickering with satisfaction.

"I understand if you feel threatened. Being married to a man like Ethan isn't easy."

Her voice dripped with mock concern, but her words were sharp, precise—each syllable meant to wound.

"He's destined to conquer the world, and it takes a very special kind of woman to support a man like that without feeling... overshadowed."

Sophie set the bouquet down firmly.

Then, she met Claire's gaze head-on.

"What would you know about being married to a man like Ethan?"

For the first time, Claire's smirk faltered—just slightly. But she recovered quickly, straightening as she delivered her next words with a quiet, cutting precision.

"I don't want to be the one to say this, but it's honestly pathetic."

She tilted her head, inspecting Sophie like she was some kind of charity case.

"A man like Ethan, standing beside a... nobody like you?"

Sophie felt the sting of those words, even though she had expected them.

The last thing she needed was another reminder of the vast gulf between her and Ethan's world.

Her heart clenched, but she didn't respond right away—because she knew Claire would savor any reaction.

So instead, she smiled.

"You seem so knowledgeable about different 'positions,' Claire. Please, educate me," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Claire smirked, tilting her head just slightly, as if amused by the challenge.

"Oh, don't be upset, Sophie."

Her tone was mocking, almost playful.

"It's just surprising, that's all—that he would settle for... a flower shop owner."

The word settle hit Sophie like a slap.

But she refused to let it show.

Instead, she kept her voice smooth. "I don't know when you last checked, but not everyone is obsessed with status. Besides, we're married. Would you call that a lack of good judgment—at least according to your standards?"

Claire picked up a delicate orchid from a nearby display, twirling it between her fingers idly, as if the conversation bored her.

"Oh, of course. I'm not questioning his judgment."

She looked up, smiling with mock sweetness.

"It's just... unexpected. He's always been so driven, so ambitious."

Sophie's grip tightened on the counter.

She could feel the cracks forming in her carefully held composure.

Claire knew exactly what she was doing.

"You seem to know everything, Claire," her voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it now.

Then, she tilted her head, matching Claire's smirk with one of her own.

"Why don't you write a book about it?"

Claire's smile widened, her eyes glinting with triumph.

"Well," she said, placing the orchid back with calculated care, "I do know Ethan needs someone who can match his drive and ambition. Someone who truly understands what it means to support him."

Sophie held her gaze, unflinching.

"And I assume you mean someone like you."

Claire's smirk deepened, satisfaction dripping from every inch of her posture.

"I guess you're not as naive as you look, Sophie."

Her tone was mocking, patronizing, each word laced with condescension.

"But I do hope you can keep up with him. He's not the easiest man to live with, as you've probably noticed."

Sophie's grip on the ribbon tightened, her patience wearing dangerously thin.

"What do you know about living with him, Claire?"

Claire's faux-surprised expression twisted into something sharper, crueler.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if offering some wicked little secret.

"Oh? Didn't he tell you?"

A pause.

Then, with a mocking smile, she delivered the blow.

"We lived together, Sophie. For quite some time."

Sophie's breath caught.

Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs.

Claire tilted her head, watching the effect of her words unfold like she had planned every second of this moment.

"I was the one he turned to when he was angry, when he was sad—" she paused, savoring it, then added with mock sweetness, "almost like we were married."

The words were like knives, each one carving deeper into Sophie's already fragile confidence.

No. Don't believe her.

Her stomach twisted, her fingers trembling slightly as she struggled to process what she had just heard.

"Stop."

Her voice came out shaky but firm.

Claire's smirk didn't waver.

If anything, it darkened.

"When he kisses you, Sophie, do you know who he's really thinking about?"

Sophie's breath hitched.

"When you're together, does he whisper my—"

"That's enough!"

Sophie's voice rang out, sharper than she had intended.

Her hands trembled at her sides, but her gaze didn't waver.

Claire took a small step back, but there was no sign of defeat.

No remorse.

Only satisfaction.

She let out a dramatic sigh, placing a delicate hand over her chest like she had been so terribly misunderstood.

"Well, I should be going. I've taken up enough of your time."

She turned toward the door, her heels clicking against the floor with grating confidence.

Then—she paused, looking back one last time.

And with one final, precise cut, she said—

"Oh, about the flowers? I've changed my mind. I'm not sure how I feel about this... establishment."

Sophie's fingers curled into fists at her sides.

After everything Claire had said, the last thing Sophie wanted was to sell her any flowers, even if she had been willing to throw down a thousand dollars.

Which was strange, considering her own policy—to serve everyone, no matter their background.

God, she hated herself when it came to Ethan.

She loved how giddy he made her feel, how easily he could turn her day around with just a look.

But she hated the insecurity that came with it even more.

She had always thought Ethan would end up marrying someone elite—someone who belonged to his world.

She just didn't think she'd ever meet that potential elite.

And now, standing in front of her? Claire.

Perfect, poised, polished Claire.

Sophie didn't like her—not her fake politeness, not the way her words dripped with superiority, not the way she had to pretend to like her at first when all she wanted was to tell her to leave and never come back.

Sophie wished she had just admitted from the start that she hated her instead of pretending to be polite.

She wished she hadn't played nice.

Because Claire?

Claire was quick—too quick—with demeaning words, too skilled at word games, and Sophie kept falling right into them.

And honestly?

Sophie wasn't sure she wanted to become good at those games.

Did she need a tougher skin to survive this world?

Or did she need to accept that maybe she just didn't fit in it?

And then—there was this. This gnawing insecurity she could never quite shake.

We lived together.

She had never wanted to dig into Ethan's past. That was a rabbit hole she had sworn she wouldn't fall into. But sometimes, the thoughts crept in anyway.

And today had made it so much worse.

Why did David have to tell her that Claire was like family to Ethan?

Had Ethan opened up to Claire in a way he hadn't with her?

She had always known Ethan had walls around him.

But the idea that Claire had been on the other side of those walls?

That thought was unbearable.

It wasn't just the idea of a past relationship that hurt.

It was the idea of Ethan trusting Claire, letting her in, in a way he hadn't with Sophie.

She wanted to be the one—the only one—he had in his life.

She wanted him.

But did he even want her?

Her stupid, one-sided love.

Wasn't she tired of this?

She had known—from the very start—that being married to Ethan wouldn't be easy.

But she hadn't thought it would be this hard.

Hadn't thought she would spend so many nights wondering if he even desired her.

They weren't lovers.

They weren't even truly partners.

They were... polite.

Like roommates who happened to wear rings.

Did he even see her as a woman?

She wanted him.

But did he want her?

She had told herself she could be content just being beside him.

But now... she wasn't so sure.

A lump formed in her throat as the realization sank in.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.

She wouldn't break.

Not here. Not now.

-------

Don't forget to vote and leave a comment

🩷🩷