Chapter 232: The Voice She Borrowed

"You’re drunk," the man said, catching Claire by the arm before she could stumble. He guided her toward the couch and eased her down.

"I am not drunk." Claire frowned, pushing weakly at his hand. "I’m perfectly fine."

"Of course you are." His tone was almost amused. "Then prove it. Tell me—what do you know about Project Lexan?"

Claire blinked at him through unfocused eyes.

"Project Lexan?" She waved a dismissive hand. "It’s just some trashy toy. A companion robot for toddlers."

She snorted, sinking deeper into the cushions.

"Who knows what will happen to the younger generation? Kids these days are going to spend all day talking to robots instead of people."

A low chuckle escaped him.

For all her drunken rambling, Claire occasionally managed to say something surprisingly sensible.

"But KitKat was a hit, wasn’t it?" he prompted.

Claire’s eyes brightened with recognition.

"Of course it was. Aoiryx published all those success stories." She leaned closer, lowering her voice as though she were sharing a secret. "Lives were saved. Babies even seemed to learn faster with it."

The man slipped off his leather jacket and tossed it carelessly over the back of a nearby chair.

"Or were those results fabricated?"

"Of course not." Claire scoffed. "They were real."

Her lips curled into a drunken, self-satisfied smile.

"And that damn woman got all the recognition from Morgan."

There was a flicker of interest in his eyes.

"That damn woman?"

Claire laughed.

"Isobel Lancey."

"Thankfully, I made the presentation." She pointed at herself proudly. "So she didn’t completely steal the limelight from me."

"What else do you know about Project Lexan?"

That was all the encouragement Claire needed.

She kept talking.

At first, her words were little more than drunken nonsense—complaints, gossip, fragments of resentment. But between them were details that should have only stayed within the Aioryx project office.

Decisions.

Information about the project that Claire had no business revealing.

The man listened patiently, giving nothing away. He barely interrupted her, only occasionally steering the conversation with another carefully chosen question.

By the time Claire finally ran out of things to say, her head had fallen against the couch.

He studied her for a long moment.

"So that’s everything?"

Claire gave a lazy nod.

A slow smile curved his lips.

"Since you’ve been such a good girl," he murmured, moving closer, "I suppose you deserve a reward."

Before Claire could respond, his hand slipped beneath her chin, tilting her face toward his.

Then he kissed her.

There was nothing gentle about it.

The kiss was sudden, deep, and demanding, wiping the drunken smile from Claire’s lips as surprise gave way to instinct. For a heartbeat, she simply stared at him, caught off guard by the intensity.

Then she melted into him.

Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt as she kissed him back, just as fiercely. The alcohol had loosened every restraint she might have otherwise possessed, leaving only the heat of the moment.

When he finally pulled away, Claire followed him instinctively, unwilling to let the distance remain.

She wrapped both arms around him and buried herself against his chest.

"Don’t stop," she whispered.

Her hands tightened around him, wandering restlessly as she pulled him closer.

The man looked down at her flushed face, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"So you want more?"

Claire answered by pulling him back toward her.

His smile deepened.

"Then," he murmured against her lips, "I’ll give you what you want."

...

In the private room nearby, Katherine glanced at her watch for what felt like the third time.

Her eyes drifted toward the door.

"Has anyone seen Claire?"

There was no concern in her voice—only mild curiosity. Claire had been gone for quite some time, and Katherine was beginning to wonder where she had disappeared to.

"Haven’t seen her," one of her former classmates replied. "Maybe she went to the washroom."

"Don’t worry about her," the class president said with a laugh. "We have something more important to discuss."

He turned toward Katherine with an expectant smile.

"Katherine, sing us a song. We’ve been waiting to hear your voice again."

Several others immediately agreed.

Katherine smiled politely.

She recognized the look in their eyes. They weren’t merely asking for entertainment. They were reminiscing about the days when they had all been young, carefree students with nothing more important to worry about than exams, parties, and who would end up dating whom.

Especially Ryan.

Ryan Banks was the youngest son of one of the country’s most powerful banking tycoons. Now, he was the president of the country’s third-largest bank—a man whose name carried enough weight to open doors that remained firmly closed to everyone else.

His marriage, however, had never been about love.

It was an arranged union between two influential families, little more than a carefully negotiated business alliance.

And despite being married, Ryan had never completely let go of his feelings for Katherine.

She had been his crush in college.

Years later, he still looked at her as though he was waiting for the right moment to win her heart.

If Katherine agreed to be with him, Ryan was convinced he would even be willing to divorce his wife.

Katherine caught his lingering gaze and smiled smugly.

She wanted the attention. And she loved it when people adored her.

Still, with everyone watching her expectantly, refusing would only make things awkward.

"All right," she said.

She picked up the microphone.

The room gradually fell silent as Katherine began to sing.

The melody was soft and mellow, perfectly suited to the nostalgic mood of the gathering.

Ryan listened intently.

But after only a few lines, his brows slowly drew together.

Something was wrong.

The voice was beautiful.

It was pleasant, controlled, and technically flawless.

But it wasn’t the voice he remembered.

Why does she sound so different now?

His expression tightened as memories from their college days surfaced.

Back then, Katherine’s singing had captivated him. There had been something warm and effortless about her voice—something that had made him want to listen even when he had heard the same song a dozen times.

Her voice was so beautiful when we were in college.

He stared at her, trying to reconcile the woman standing before him with the girl he remembered.

What Ryan didn’t know was that the woman he had listened to sing all those years ago had never been Katherine.

It had been her twin sister.

Kristine.