Claire's POV
It was after work hours when I stood up from my desk. I glanced in the direction of his office, and from the full windows, I can see his light are off and his office is empty.
Where has he gone? I wonder. I didn't even notice him leaving.
I grabbed my bag and headed out.
On the ride home, I rehearsed possibilities under my breath. What could I possibly use as an excuse to justify why I'm leaving home.
"A business trip… no. A company retreat? Too vague."
I sighed. "Renting a place closer to work?"
That would be quite dumb, seeing how we are struggling with our mortgage.
None of it sounded convincing enough to survive my mum's questions. And Grandma's would be even tougher to beat.
When I got home, voices drifted in from the living room. Their voices were low, strained, heavy with worry.
I found them in the living room, documents spread across the table, bank statements, credit notices, the mortgage papers we'd been circling for weeks now.
"If we push the payment by another week—" my mum was saying.
"The bank won't wait forever," Grandma replied.
The sight of it hardened something inside me.
My resolve settled, firm and unyielding.
Everything felt grounded at that moment, seeing how hard they were working towards the payment. How tired and bothered they've become.
I stepped in. "Hey."
They both looked up.
"You're late," Mum said. "We were just going over the mortgage again."
I nodded, then took a breath. "Uhm, so I need to tell you both something."
They both looked up at once.
"Alright, we're all ears" grandma replies, her face etched in worry.
" So, I'll be travelling for work. For a bit."
"Work?, With who?" Mum asked immediately.
"My boss."
"Just you?" Grandma frowned. "You're not taking on extra work because of the mortgage, are you?"
"No! It's not that," I said quickly. "Everything's fine. I actually spoke to my boss about it and he's agreed to give me an advance. It'll help clear the mortgage"
Their expressions changed instantly.
"Oh, Claire," Mum breathed. "That's wonderful. "
"So there is a way," Grandma said, smiling. "You must work hard. Make sure he's pleased with you."
"I will," I said, forcing a nod. "Everything's under control."
Mum hesitated. "How long will this work trip be?"
"I'm not sure yet," I said lightly. "I'll let you know."
"Alright dear, just keep us posted okay. We'd miss you so much."
Guilt pressed heavy against my chest, but I swallowed it down. This lie had a purpose. A good one.
I looked around the house, the walls that had watched me grow up, the rooms filled with laughter, arguments, memories layered so deeply they felt permanent.
Keeping this house was worth it.
Whatever it took.
Later, in my room, I dragged out my suitcase.
"Just the essentials," I whispered to myself.
Clothes. Shoes. A few personal items. I zipped it shut, then stuffed the rest into a duffel.
"I'm not taking everything," I decided aloud. "This isn't permanent."
It would be rather foolish, to pack so much and feel too comfortable over there at his place.
Louis' POV
I had to leave work earlier than usual today.
"Reschedule everything after four," I said, already shrugging into my coat.
My assistant looked up. "Is everything alright, sir?"
"Yes," I replied. "I just have prior commitments."
He hesitated. "Should I inform Miss Claire?"
"No," I said immediately. Then, more evenly, "I'll speak to her tomorrow."
Even though Claire was my secretary, her role wasn't traditional.
She didn't just type up documents or answer calls. She managed my schedule with precision, marked my calendar, ensured every email reached me, and made certain that every final document was flawless before it landed on my desk. She had an almost obsessive attention to detail, the kind that made chaos feel organized before it even existed.
My assistant, Devon, on the other hand, was my right hand, the one who went everywhere with me. He coordinated my movements, made sure my logistics aligned perfectly with Claire's made schedule for me, and made sure every plan was executed exactly as intended.
Between the two of them, my work and personal life ran smoothly.
I didn't go home first. I went to my lawyer, Mr. Hunter.
"This needs to move quickly," I said, placing the documents on his desk.
He skimmed them once, then twice. "Marriage certificates usually take time."
"Time is something I don't have," I replied.
He leaned back. "And you're certain?"
"I am. I am very certain" I say, with every conviction.
When I stood to leave, he added, "You're treating this like a formal engagement."
I paused. "That's because it will be." It has to be.
On my way out, I quickly placed a call to my bank manager to proceed with the payment to Claire. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, to be sent to her.
From there, I went to the jeweler.
"Are you looking for something traditional?" the woman asked.
"No," I said. "Something specific."
"Any particular stone, gemstone perhaps? What kind of cut would you prefer?"
"Anything in the color purple?," I questioned, as I deliberated over myself . "Light purple."
She smiled faintly. "That's quite uncommon."
She brought out a velvet tray, eyes flicking between the pieces.
I'd picked up one of the rings. Remembering how she seems to love the color purple, I chose an amethyst ring.
I knew her favourite colour was purple. It was very obvious, to me at least. Every shade of it.
She always wore it somehow. A brooch. A hair tie. Her heels. Her wristwatch or bracelet. Even her desk carried hints of purple, small and unintentional, but consistent enough to notice. That was how I knew.
"So is she." I answer after a beat.
The
I picked up another ring, turning it beneath the light.
Light purple. Clean cut. Elegant without being obvious . I inspected it longer than necessary, turning it beneath the light, checking the band, hoping I'd judged her ring size correctly.
"What size is this?"
"Seven."
I considered it. "That should fit."
"Would you like it resized?"
"Not yet."
On the drive home, I wondered briefly why I hadn't delegated this. My assistant could have handled it.
Instead, I'd wanted to see it myself. To hold it for myself.
At home, I handed my coat to the butler, Benedict.
"I'll be having a guest moving in tomorrow," I said.
"Yes, sir."
"I want the bedroom beside mine prepared."
He paused. "The master bedroom?"
"No," I said. "The second one."
"Very well."
"And ensure it's done tonight. Move all the clothes and accessories I brought the other day into the room. Arrange everything properly, and make sure the items from my trunk are included as well."
A few days ago, on my way back from work, I suddenly felt the urge to go to the store. I bought everything in purple I could find. I couldn't explain why, and I wasn't ready to face it. Everything had stayed in the trunk of my car.
But with her arriving tomorrow, I needed it all set. I wondered what expression would cross her face when she saw it.
I went upstairs and locked the ring in the safe. I lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at it.
"I don't know why I'm doing this," I murmured.
Later, I summoned the staff again.
"She may not want to stay," I said.
Benedict inclined his head. "Shall we prepare the guest wing instead?"
"No."
A beat.
"She stays close."
He nodded, understanding more than he let on.
Six bedrooms. Endless space.
And yet, I chose the one beside mine.
When the house finally fell quiet, I stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door of the room that would soon be hers.
Tomorrow, she will move in.