Chapter 432 - 435: Turns Out She Lives Here

Wren Sutton mulled it over. She couldn’t keep this from Adrian Lancaster—she had to tell him. But that didn’t mean she had to tell him right now.

He’d just had a vasectomy today and needed to rest and recuperate for at least a week.

The doctor had been very clear: he was to avoid any significant emotional distress during his recuperation, or it would hinder his recovery.

So, for Adrian Lancaster’s sake, Wren Sutton decided to keep it to herself for the time being. She wouldn’t say a single word. She would act as if she hadn’t run into Claire Bennett today, as if she didn’t know the secret about her prosthetic limb.

She would wait a week, and then, depending on the circumstances, find the right time to tell him.

’That’s settled, then.’

Wren Sutton let out a long sigh, pushing down the turmoil in her heart as she stood up and left.

She walked out of the hospital and got into the car. The driver pulled away smoothly, exiting the hospital gates and merging into the bustling traffic of a main city artery.

The driver asked respectfully, "Young Madam, where to next?"

"Home."

"Yes."

Ten or so minutes later, the car arrived at a busy intersection, waiting patiently for the light to turn green.

Wren Sutton put down her phone and glanced idly out the window.

As her gaze swept across the street, it suddenly locked onto something.

Claire Bennett was walking out of a pharmacy by the side of the road, a plastic bag full of pillboxes in her hand.

She was still wearing the same dark-colored long dress and a wide-brimmed hat.

What was different, however, was her gait. It was now steady and smooth, her steps even and firm. She looked just like any able-bodied person; you couldn’t tell at all that she was wearing a prosthesis.

In that instant, Wren Sutton understood everything.

The scene before her only confirmed it: Claire Bennett had gone to that exact clinic this morning.

Claire Bennett’s prosthesis must have had some kind of problem this morning, which was why her left leg seemed to struggle and she walked with a limp.

After an inspection, adjustment, and maintenance by a specialist, the prosthesis was back to normal, and Claire Bennett’s gait had naturally returned to normal as well.

A jolt went through Wren Sutton. With no time to think, she pointed to a car up ahead.

"Slow down. Don’t get too close. Follow that car ahead, but keep a safe distance. Don’t let her see us."

The driver had been with the Lancaster family for years and was calm and experienced. He immediately nodded.

"Understood."

The driver eased off the accelerator, maintaining a distance of two to three car lengths. He didn’t follow too closely or make it obvious, judging the distance perfectly.

He hung back, neither too close nor too far. He deliberately mistimed his turns and lane changes to match hers, tailing her covertly the entire way without giving anything away.

They drove through the city blocks for ten or so minutes before the car ahead slowly pulled into a gated, high-end apartment complex and parked in front of one of the buildings.

Immediately after, Claire Bennett got out of the car. She pulled the brim of her hat down low, kept her head bowed, and quickened her pace as she walked through the main entrance of the apartment building.

Through the car window, Wren Sutton watched Claire Bennett’s figure hurry away and disappear.

’So this is where she lives.’

’Why isn’t she living with the Bennett Family?’

’And with the Bennett Family on the verge of bankruptcy, Claire Bennett doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.’

Countless questions swirled in her mind.

The car was silent.

Just then, the previously silent driver spoke up.

"Young Madam, these buildings here... years ago, they were properties owned by the Marshall Family. Later on, the Marshall Family sold off their assets, and they were passed on to someone else."

At his words, Wren Sutton froze, her face a mask of astonishment.

"What did you say? These apartments belonged to the Marshall Family?"

The driver nodded earnestly, not daring to lie. "It’s the absolute truth. They definitely belonged to the Marshall Family before. They have a new owner now, but I’m not sure who it is."

"..." Wren Sutton’s breath hitched, and that wild, terrifying suspicion surfaced in her mind once more.

’Aston is a huge city, yet Claire Bennett just had to pick a place to live that was once owned by the Marshall Family.’

’Why the Marshall Family, of all places? There are so many neighborhoods, so many apartments in Aston.’

’Another coincidence.’

’Claire Bennett, Maya Marshall...’

The images of the two women overlapped and intertwined in Wren Sutton’s mind, separating only to merge again, back and forth, pulling at her, tormenting her until her head throbbed.

After a moment, Wren Sutton took a deep breath, forcing down the storm of emotions raging inside her and keeping her expression calm.

"Turn around. Let’s go home."

"Yes, Young Madam," the driver replied. Not daring to delay, he quickly drove off, the car’s tail lights disappearing down the road.

「Meanwhile, in a high-rise apartment.」

Claire Bennett entered the apartment and locked the door behind her. The gentle mask fell from her face, replaced by a cold expression as she walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

She cautiously pulled back a corner of the heavy curtains and raised a pair of high-powered binoculars, scanning the entire street below—the parking spaces, the corners, the blind spots.

As she entered the complex just now, Claire Bennett had sensed a car following her from a distance.

She didn’t know who it was, much less why they were tailing her.

She scanned the area carefully. Through the binoculars, the street below looked clear and orderly. Traffic was flowing normally, with no suspicious vehicles parked by the roadside and no figures lurking in the corners.

Everything seemed normal, as if the feeling of being followed had just been her imagination.

Claire Bennett’s fingers slowly tightened on the binoculars. The lenses reflected a cold, white light, and a sharp, wary glint flashed in her eyes.

She trusted her intuition more than what she saw through the binoculars.

’Someone is definitely watching me.’

Whoever it was, they were cautious and discreet enough to have made a clean getaway the instant she suspected something, leaving no trace behind.

’Who could it be?’