Chapter 7

Claire hit the floor with a sickening thud, and the photo frame she'd been cradling against her chest slipped free and went skidding across the tiles.

It shattered on impact — glass splintering into jagged fragments, the edges slicing across the photograph of her and her mother.

Tears poured down her face. Claire's breathing seemed to slow to nothing. She stared at the wreckage, then reached into the broken glass with trembling fingers to retrieve the photo. Ethan grabbed her from behind, locking his arms around her to stop her.

She was breaking apart. He could see it. He caught her bleeding hands and pressed his lips to her forehead, murmuring over and over, "Claire, please stop crying. You'll cut yourself — please don't use your hands. I promise the photo will be fine."

Claire thrashed in his arms, half-mad with grief. "Let go of me! This is the only photo of my mother and me left in the world. It's mine!"

Ethan held her tighter, seizing her bloodied fingers. "Stop, you're hurting yourself — your hands are already bleeding."

Julian watched the scene unfold and was about to speak when he saw Vivienne reach for the photo. In the next instant, both men's faces changed.

Vivienne's hands were slick with blood — cut to ribbons by the glass. Ethan released Claire instantly and seized Vivienne's hand, his voice rising in alarm. "Vivienne, you're bleeding —"

Vivienne looked stricken with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Claire. I just thought your mother was so beautiful... I kept the photo by my bed because I was so grateful for her kindness. I never meant for this to happen."

Claire stared at her. What kindness could Grace Sterling possibly have shown this woman's family? The only thing Vivienne and Diane had ever done was steal her father. And Vivienne had the audacity to keep Grace's photo on her nightstand? What kind of person did something that twisted?

If her mother could see this, how heartbroken she would be.

Grief filled Claire's chest, but no one was paying attention to her. Julian's face was grim as he dialed the family doctor, barking orders to come immediately.

Vivienne waved it off with a coy smile. "It's nothing. A little blood doesn't matter — as long as the photo's okay."

They fussed over Vivienne, asking if it hurt, stroking her hair. Meanwhile Claire carefully lifted the blood-soaked photograph. It was an old print from years ago, and the blood had seeped into the paper, staining her mother's face red.

Just like the day of the accident. When Claire had woken from the haze of unconsciousness, she'd found herself cradled in her mother's arms — and Grace's face had been a mask of blood.

Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. The last thread of her composure snapped, and she collapsed — blacked out from the sheer force of her anguish.

In the final seconds before darkness took her, she saw two figures sprinting toward her. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. Inside her chest, there was nothing left to feel.

When she came to, Vivienne was sitting beside her bed, wearing a mask of remorse. But her words told a different story. "I really was just trying to help, Claire. You're not mad at me, are you?"

Claire said nothing. Vivienne's expression shifted to a smirk, the pretense dropping away. "See how easy it is to replace someone? But this is only the beginning. I'm going to make every person who ever loved you love me instead."

Her eyes glittered with certainty. "Julian. Ethan. They'll both be mine."

Claire stared into the middle distance, hollow-eyed, giving no response. Vivienne's lips curled with cruel satisfaction. "Want to know why Julian turned on you so suddenly?"

Claire's gaze drifted up. She fixed Vivienne with a flat, steady look. "Why?"

She needed to know why her brother had stopped loving her. If she'd done something wrong, she'd fix it — anything, as long as he didn't stop loving her.

Vivienne had clearly anticipated this reaction. She stirred a cup of medicine and smiled. "All I did was have a psychic tell him you carry negative energy — that you're cursed, and that your mother's death was your fault. And just like that, he believed it."

The words struck Claire like a physical blow. So that was it. No wonder Julian had turned cold overnight. A psychic had told him his mother died because of Claire, and he'd believed it.

He'd believed every word. He even thought their mother's death was Claire's doing. No wonder they all kept their distance — that was the reason all along.

Claire's nails dug into her palms. She closed her eyes against the pain.

Over the next few days, Ethan came to see her two or three times. She never said a word. He'd crouch beside her bed and ramble. "Claire, the doctor says you fainted from extreme distress. Please don't overthink things."

"Vivienne was only trying to save the photo. I know you resent her for being Diane and your father's daughter, but once you get to know her, you'll see she's actually a good person."

It wasn't until he mentioned the photo that she showed any sign of life. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Claire, your brother took the photo to get it cleaned. I need to head to the office, but I'll come back later."

Julian came in the evening, holding the washed photo. Grace's face was barely visible now — blurred beyond recognition. "Even with Vivienne doing her best to save it, the photo was too damaged."

Claire looked at the ruined image, at the ghost of her mother's face, and her voice came out flat. "Throw it away."

Julian's grip tightened on the photo, shock crossing his features. "Claire, Vivienne nearly cut her hands to pieces saving this."

If Vivienne hadn't taken the photo in the first place, none of this would have happened. But Claire didn't say it. There was nothing left to say.

Instead, she spoke. "Julian... you think I killed Mom, don't you?"

The silence was absolute. Julian didn't answer, but she already had her answer.

She remembered the funeral — the relatives who'd looked at her with open loathing. "How come her mother died in the crash but she survived? I bet she's the one who caused it."

Julian had been seventeen. He'd torn into everyone who dared whisper about her. He'd nearly cut ties with half the family over it. Then he'd held her, his voice breaking, trying desperately to calm her down. "Don't listen to them. It was just an accident. It's not your fault. You're my favorite sister — always and forever."

Now, looking back, it all felt like a dream.

Richard appeared, his face thunderous. "These past months with you gone, everything was peaceful. The second you come back, chaos. When are you going to be as well-behaved as Vivienne?"

Claire sat silent through his tirade. When he finished, she finally spoke. "I'll move out."

Her mother had left her a company. She didn't want to stay in this house a moment longer.

Julian seemed to read her mind. Something in his expression went rigid before he spoke. "Claire, I've already given Vivienne your company to manage as a learning opportunity."