Too Late to Love Her: When She Divorced, He Fell Apart-Chapter 1: You Didn’t Perform Well Enough Today

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: You Didn’t Perform Well Enough Today
When Claire received the news that Tristan Lockwood had rented a hotel room with a woman, she was handling a divorce case.
A woman came, produced a stack of photos of her husband cheating, and wanted to sue for divorce, insisting her husband leaves without a dime.
"Lady, infidelity can’t be a legal reason for divorce," Claire said calmly. "If there’s no other fault, and your husband doesn’t want to divorce, you’re likely to lose the case."
She ended the conversation in five minutes and drove to the hotel.
Opening the door was Tristan Lockwood.
A loosely tied white bath towel hung around his tight waist, revealing half of his perfectly defined abs, droplets from his black hair followed the perfect curve of his jaw, falling coolly onto Claire’s hand.
His gaze upon her was unusually indifferent.
Claire took out a stack of envelopes from her bag: "Inside are photos of you and a woman entering the hotel. You have two choices: either let the woman go, or I give the photos to Grandpa."
Tristan’s eyes showed no fluctuation; looking at her like she was a stranger.
He signaled to the woman in the room: "Leave."
The woman, suddenly kicked out, was not angry but instead left a smiling remark: "See you."
The red strap slid off the woman’s shoulder, revealing faint kiss marks, her exquisitely beautiful face curved with a sweet, charming smile, sensual and alluring.
It formed a stark contrast with Claire Hale’s formal, monotonous shirt and black skirt.
The woman’s gaze lingered on Claire’s face for a brief two seconds, her smile faded, but inside she was quite startled. That face, excessively cold and distant, was graced with scintillating eyes.
Like holding a clear spring, captivating the soul.
As the woman walked away, Claire handed the photos to Tristan calmly: "Tastes are indeed varied. Wasn’t it a cute little sister last month?"
Tristan’s eyebrows subtly raised, his emotions unreadable, and after a moment, he spoke plainly: "What do you want this time?"
Claire lowered her brows, thought for a moment, and said, "I want to acquire another shop in the city center."
"Okay."
He agreed promptly, but at the same time, beckoned her with a finger.
She knew what it meant, remained standing without moving.
Tristan glanced at her lazily: "Don’t tell me you intend to leverage a few measly photos for millions."
The city center, where every inch of land is worth gold, a shop is hard to come by.
He knew her appetite was large, not interested in mere hundreds of thousands.
Claire: "I have backups of the photos."
His indifferent expression momentarily fluctuated: "Manipulating me?"
She was noncommittal, her shimmering eyes fixed on him.
As Tristan pulled Claire into the room, she found herself pinned against the hotel’s cold wall, her slender waist held firmly by his dry, large hands.
She glanced at him lazily.
He carried a natural chill, even while doing such things, remaining detached and aloof.
But his hands were skillful, fingers dexterous, paced just right.
After all, the title of Riverbend Central Hospital’s star surgeon was well-earned.
The whole course made Claire quite comfortable and satisfied. As they finished, Tristan noticed the redness at the corner of her eyes.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her white shirt slightly open, her black skirt discarded on the floor, smooth legs crossed, showing marks he left, an aesthetic of being ravaged.
The diminishing flame in Tristan stirred once again.
He asked, "Uncomfortable?"
Claire shook her head and calmly replied, "No."
During the conversation, he had dressed in his shirt and trousers, his expression still bland: "You didn’t perform well today."
Claire walked barefoot across the carpet, bent to pick up the black skirt off the floor, her fingers paused, lifting her gaze to him, waiting for what he might say.
Tristan adjusted his tie: "Back when you climbed into my bed to marry into the Lockwood Family, you were more enthusiastic than now, your skills were better too."
His tone was emotionless, like assessing a dull lunch.
The chill emanating from his eyes made him seem even more remote.
Claire zipped up, her fitted shirt and black skirt wrapping her coldly, as if the woman lost in desire earlier was someone else.
She replied calmly: "You know, initially, I wanted to marry into the Lockwood Family, naturally, I had to try harder. Who keeps studying after passing an exam?"
It was to marry into the Lockwood Family.
Not to marry him.
His fingers paused around the tie, Tristan turned, looking at her distantly and with disdain, saying, "Stop doing such things, don’t really think of yourself as Mrs. Lockwood."
"Depends on my mood."
She buttoned her collarbone area, lips slightly parted, not obedient.
With a bang, the door was shut behind Tristan as he left.
Driving back to the firm, Claire remembered these days were her ovulation period, turned the car around, and headed to Central Hospital.
After taking the contraceptive pill, while getting water in the break room, she overheard gossip: "I saw a beauty get into Dr. Lockwood’s car yesterday!"
"What’s so strange about that? With Dr. Lockwood’s family background and looks, women lining up for his bed isn’t unusual. No women seeking him would be weirder!"
"This one’s different." The girl lowered her voice. "Rumor has it she’s a hospital patient, had an appendectomy, Dr. Lockwood performed it himself, personally cared for her post-surgery, even willingly became her escort to send her home."
Claire stood in front of the water dispenser, her expression calm.
Until a burning sensation reached her skin.
She lowered her eyes, the cup had overflowed, hot water scalding her pale fingers, leaving blisters.
Two young nurses came out from inside, seeing her, immediately hushed, and left quickly.
After finishing getting water, Claire sat on the hallway bench, recalling the woman with Tristan.
The kiss marks on the woman’s shoulder were faint, her departure unusually carefree, everything too seamlessly executed, much like a theatrical act.
It seemed that Tristan deliberately released smoke and mirrors.
After sitting for a while, Claire took the elevator to the third-floor surgery department.
In the nurse’s station were the same two young nurses she saw on the first floor.
"Dr. Lockwood is in surgery, likely won’t be out for another hour. If it’s urgent, you can register with another doctor."
Claire spoke coolly: "No need, I’ll wait for him."
Her tone was naturally familiar, making the young nurse unconsciously scrutinize her.
Her features were cold, her gaze mild, but she was stunningly beautiful.
Rather than coming for medical attention, it seemed more like she came specifically to see Tristan Lockwood.
The young nurse, with a glance, noticed the faint red marks hidden under Claire’s shirt collar, instinctively opened her mouth: "You and Dr. Lockwood..."