When Claudia opened the door, she found Clarence standing there, his face a wreck with dark circles under his eyes. He was hanging by a thread. The aftermath of everything—the botched proposal with Jasper, Lydia's car accident, Claudia's police report, the family fights, Claudia taking it out on Lydia, burning down the old house—it was all piling up. He'd been running from one disaster to the next, trying to clean up the messes, but never quick enough to catch his breath. After rushing to Altrix City to handle the situation with the old house, his phone had gone into overdrive. Call after call—each one more brutal than the last—he could barely lift his head anymore. Now, even the buzz of his phone made him twitch. At first, he thought it was some business rival. But then, when he realized the whole family was being hounded, it clicked. This had Claudia's name written all over it. Only she would strike with such petty, vindictive vengeance. His usually sharp features were drained, the renowned Lancaster good looks lost beneath layers of exhaustion. "Claudia, can we just call a truce? You've made your point," he continued, voice strained. "The house is gone. Why keep pushing? You might hate us, but our parents are old. They can't handle this." Even his plea had an edge of accusation. Claudia stood there, arms crossed, her chin raised in defiance. She didn't respond—she asked instead, "How does it feel? Being scolded with no one giving a damn about the truth?" Clarence's jaw clenched. "…Not great." "Do you remember when I was in eighth grade?" Claudia's voice was sharp. "Lydia's roses died, she cried, and you blamed me. Made me plant new ones under the scorching sun. Or the New Year's Eve dance, when Lydia ruined her shoes? I barely even got backstage before you tossed mine away too. Neither of us danced that night. Or that family trip in high school—when I got lost, you blamed me for dragging Lydia out so she'd faint." And those were just the ones with evidence. There were countless other times when blame just fell on her, no questions asked. The roses had been yanked out by a relative's kid. Lydia's shoes had been ruined by some jealous admirer. Lydia's fainting spell had been from Zane dragging her onto wild, dangerous rides. It was always the same—one incident after another. No chance for Claudia to speak her side, just punishment. "You never let me explain," she said, her voice flat. "Just judgment. Punishment. Over and over again." "That's because you always clashed with Lydia…" Clarence's voice trailed off. "Remember when I got into that fight in kindergarten?" Claudia pressed, her eyes cold. "You rushed over from school, said your sister could never be wrong. If I didn't like someone, then I was the problem." It was never about what was right or wrong. Their hearts were always swayed, and every excuse bent toward Lydia. Claudia's gaze didn't waver, even though her eyes shimmered. "When we were kids, you used to protect me like that too." … Clarence came to demand answers but left empty-handed. He hadn't even managed to get her to stop the harassment calls. The moment his back was turned, Claudia's sad expression evaporated, replaced by a cold indifference. See? She could play the victim too. But love stolen at Lydia's expense meant nothing to her. What Lydia had taken wasn't toys, or houses—it was the certainty that she would be loved unconditionally."You're not happy?" A large hand gently covered her eyes. Claudia jumped slightly, not realizing Sterling had been standing there. She caught his hand, holding it still. "I'm fine. They won't bother me for a few days now." Clarence's guilt would buy her some peace, at least for a little while. As for Sterling's little "curse-calling service," Claudia had no intention of stopping it. Why turn down someone else's money and effort to get back at her? Even if Sterling had his own reasons. With the Lancasters temporarily at bay, Claudia and Sterling settled into a cozy, homebound rhythm. Claudia's work as a freelance illustrator was going well. After her injury ended her dancing career, she threw herself into art full-time. She was thankful she'd never told the Lancasters about it. Who knew what they might've done if they knew her hands were her livelihood? With a patient at her side, Claudia's routines started to shift. They went to bed earlier and woke up with the sun. She'd take a short walk and come back with breakfast. Mornings were spent either with one of them working or her drawing. Around noon, Sterling would cook and drag Claudia in to chop vegetables. Sometimes at night, they'd watch a movie together. Other times, they worked in comfortable silence. Two strangers, living like an old married couple. It worked because one didn't like going out, and the other couldn't. Oddly, neither of them ever felt bored. Even though Claudia kept to herself, Whitney made sure she was never out of the loop.After the proposal fiasco, Whitney had gone home seething. She had hesitated at first, worried about Claudia's feelings for Jasper, but when Claudia shut things down, Whitney wasted no time plotting her revenge—dragging both Jasper and Lydia out for a well-deserved beating.