Claire's POV
Vera's words sliced through me like a knife, cutting so deep I could barely tell where the pain ended, and I began.
What was left to fear anymore?
Right then, a sharp, coppery taste filled my mouth. I coughed, and blood spilled over my lips, hot and bitter. Strangely, it made me feel lighter, like something had broken loose inside me. Maybe it was strength, or perhaps it was madness. Either way, I didn't hesitate.
I lunged at her.
Fists, nails, teeth—anything I could use to hurt her, I used it.
Her shrieks echoed through the room, shrill and panicked, and for the first time, I felt a shred of relief.
"Give Ayla back to me! Give her back!"
"Vera!"
Jason rushed in, panicked. Without hesitation, he slapped me.
On cue, Vera stumbled back into his arms, whimpering with perfectly-timed tears, "Jason... I was just worried about Claire and came to check on her. But she tried to kill me!"
Disoriented, I staggered blindly, reaching out in the dark for anything solid to hold onto.
The butler quickly caught me and helped me stand.
"Take me to see Ayla," I said hoarsely. "I'll give you anything you want. Please."
That was when Jason finally noticed something was off.
He looked at me more closely. A flicker of confusion crossed his face.
I couldn't see him. I was blind.
And the thought clearly unsettled him.
Why had Claire suddenly gone blind?
And more importantly, where the hell was Ayla?
Vera let out a breathy laugh. "Jason, surely Claire's not dragging out that whole 'Ayla is dead' story again? I literally just saw her running around on the deck earlier."
Jason latched onto her lie like it was a life raft. He shook his head, dismissing the thought before it could grow roots.
With a tight frown, he pulled out the divorce agreement, scribbled his name across it in angry strokes, and threw it at me.
"Go ahead. Keep putting on this little act. I've never seen a more pathetic excuse for a mother screaming about Ayla being dead. Don't you think you might actually kill her?"
He sneered. "You don't deserve to be my wife, Claire."
And then Jason turned and walked away, arm-in-arm with Vera.
...
Later that evening, I made a call.
I handled everything related to the company and made some final arrangements. Then I gave the butler everything I had on me—cash, jewelry, every last valuable thing.
In exchange, he handed me a small urn.
With the divorce papers in one hand and Ayla's ashes in the other, I made my way up to the deck alone.
The sun had dipped below the horizon. Fireworks were already starting to bloom in the sky above—bright colors exploding over the dark water.
On the other hand, Jason was somewhere behind me, throwing a grand party on the ship, pretending like his life was still whole.
The deck around me was empty now.
I stepped to the railing, the ocean stretching out forever in every direction.
"Ayla, baby, Mommy's sorry. I couldn't take you home."
I clutched the urn close to my chest.
"In the next life, I still want to be your mom. No matter what."
The sky flashed with light, glittering and loud like the world was celebrating something.
I wrapped my arms tighter around Ayla and stepped over the edge.
The sea welcomed me.
'Jason, I don't ever want to see your face again—not in this life, and not in the next.'
