Chapter 450 - 453: Not Giving Adrian Lancaster Any Leverage

The hotel’s heavy, soundproof wooden door clicked shut. The subtle mechanical noise completely silenced the world outside.

Adrian Lancaster’s steady footsteps faded into the distance.

The sprawling presidential suite instantly plunged into a dead silence.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city was shrouded in a heavy twilight. Moonlight streamed through the double-paned glass, spilling onto the polished marble floor and reflecting the room’s cold, lonely luxury.

The expression on Claire Bennett’s face cracked, inch by inch, before completely shattering.

She froze on the spot, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably. The docile look in her eyes vanished completely, replaced by a surging, sinister crimson.

The next moment, Claire Bennett let out a sharp gasp and violently swiped her hand across the coffee table in front of her.

The motion was savage and absolute, fueled by a long-suppressed rage.

"BANG! CRASH!"

An entire, priceless bone china tea set, a hardcover club brochure, and a gilded desktop ornament were all sent flying.

The porcelain smashed against the floor, instantly exploding into countless sharp shards. The crisp, piercing cracks echoed continuously, reverberating through the sealed room.

Fruit tea and other expensive infusions splashed across the floor, spreading along the grain of the floorboards and soaking the light gray wool carpet, leaving large, dark stains.

She was like a caged beast finally breaking its bonds. Her chest heaved violently, her breaths coming in ragged, scorching gasps. Her fingertips had turned white from the force of her actions.

A dull ache emanated from where her left prosthetic leg attached to her body—a pulling pain caused by her emotional outburst and violent movements.

This physical pain was nothing compared to the torment in her heart.

Still not having vented enough, Claire Bennett staggered forward and rushed into the bathroom. She swept everything off the vanity and onto the floor.

Bottle after bottle of high-end skincare products, glass vials of essential oils, a gilded makeup mirror, and an exquisite jewelry box crashed to the floor one after another, rolling and shattering.

The sound of shattering glass was incessant.

Thick lotions and essential oils pooled on the floor, their sticky fluids coating the fine glass shards in a disgusting mess.

"Wren Sutton, you bitch!"

Claire Bennett’s voice was a low, distorted, hoarse hiss, filled with a venom so profound it was as if she were weeping blood. She spat out every word through clenched teeth, the hatred in her heart threatening to consume her.

"It’s all your fault! Everything is because of you!"

"If it weren’t for you, I would have been Mrs. Lancaster long ago."

"You stole my life! Give Adrian Lancaster back to me! Give him back!"

Claire Bennett’s eyes were crazed, her bloodshot gaze burning with fury. Her face was twisted with resentment.

She snatched a throw pillow and began to furiously rip and beat it.

Fine downy feathers filled the air, drifting down to the ravaged floor and adding to the chaos.

’In her mind, the root of all her misfortunes, all her unfulfilled desires, and all her struggles, was Wren Sutton.’

’It was Wren Sutton who had stood in her way. It was Wren Sutton who had stolen her life. It was Wren Sutton who had usurped the happiness that should have been hers!’

The room was in utter shambles.

After her outburst, a draining exhaustion suddenly washed over Claire. Her arms fell limply to her sides, and her ragged, heavy panting was jarringly loud in the silent room.

She stumbled back a few steps until her back hit the cold, hard wall. A bone-deep chill spread up her spine and through her entire body.

The next second, Adrian Lancaster’s words—’trying to kill us’—detonated in her mind.

BOOM.

Claire Bennett’s pupils trembled violently, then contracted to pinpricks.

The heat of her frenzy vanished in an instant, replaced by a bone-deep panic and terror.

’She had always believed that the car crash she’d orchestrated during the Mid-Autumn Festival was a flawless execution.’

’All traces at the scene had been cleaned up. All indirect clues had been severed. The ones who carried it out were separated by layers of deniability, and the few who knew the truth were all firmly under her control.’

’Claire Bennett had been certain it would be seen as a perfect, tragic accident. Even if Adrian Lancaster had his doubts, he would never suspect her.’

But she was wrong.

Horribly wrong.

’Adrian Lancaster wasn’t oblivious at all.’

’His words, "trying to kill me," hadn’t been a casual remark. They had been a quiet test.’

’He suspected the car crash wasn’t an accident. He suspected someone had deliberately tried to murder him.’

’He might even have faintly suspected it was her.’

A wave of panic seized Claire Bennett’s heart, its grip tightening around her throat until her breathing grew constricted and her chest ached.

’No.’

’She couldn’t lose. She couldn’t afford to lose.’

’She absolutely could not let Adrian Lancaster get any leverage on her.’

At that moment, the first person who flashed into Claire Bennett’s mind was Laura Lawson.