Too Late to Love Her: When She Divorced, He Fell Apart-Chapter 12: Do You Want to Be a Widow?

Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Do You Want to Be a Widow?
"It shows that you have little personal charm, just passing in that aspect."
Claire stared at the car roof, speaking frankly without giving him any face.
"You’re a man who likes to mess around outside; you should understand better than I do that love and sex are two different things."
She believed she spoke the truth but was unaware of which words provoked him, making him even fiercer.
Claire retaliated, scratching his back with her nails.
Tristan Lockwood’s phone suddenly rang.
Usually, she wasn’t interested in spying on Tristan Lockwood’s privacy at all times.
But Tristan’s phone happened to fall on the seat; the screen showed a bright, unmarked number, the one Claire knew by heart.
She pressed answer directly.
"Tristan, are you coming over tonight?"
The voice of Princess Pea was just as delicate as Claire remembered. Without thinking, she pressed the speaker button and placed the phone in front of Tristan, saying, "She’s asking you a question."
As soon as she spoke, Tristan was still moving, and they both made a sound that couldn’t be described verbally.
The call turned utterly silent on the other end, and a minute later, the busy tone sounded.
After it ended, Claire didn’t have time to tidy herself up before Tristan grabbed her chin, "You did that on purpose, didn’t you?"
"Are you pretending not to know?"
She was always bold enough to admit to her actions, with no intention of denying it.
He squinted slightly, his finger brushing her earlobe: "I’ll say it again, don’t play tricks with her, three strikes and you’re out, don’t blame me for taking revenge on you."
Claire knocked his hand away, adjusted her clothes, and started the car deftly, saying, "No matter how much you protect her, the marriage certificate has me standing with you, sanctioned by the state. If you have issues with me, it’s your thoughts that are the problem."
Tristan: "Do you have no idea how we got married?"
"I know." Claire nodded briskly, "I went to great lengths to trick you into bed with your ATM card. You tell me, can I easily let you escape this marriage grave?"
Her words were quite unpleasant, and Tristan’s face instantly turned cold, the atmosphere in the car dropping to freezing point.
Once home, he got out of the car directly, slamming the door with a force that made Claire’s ears ring slightly.
She and Tristan entered the house one after another; before Tristan headed upstairs, Claire suddenly said, "I heard from Nathan that Princess Pea once saved your life."
Tristan turned around, looking at her with a strange expression: "Princess Pea?"
Claire: "The one you keep hidden like a treasure."
"What now?"
Tristan scrutinized her warily, like a beast guarding its territory, eyeing her, the intruder, until she was forced out.
Claire curved her lips without any humor: "I’m just curious what charm the little sun that once illuminated your dark past has to make you act soul-less."
Once she finished speaking, her wrist was suddenly clasped tightly; Tristan stepped in front of her, staring coldly and questioning, "How do you know the term ’little sun’?"
"She helped you overcome depression, didn’t she; hence the little sun."
His grip was ridiculously strong, making her bones ache faintly.
Claire threw off Tristan’s hand with force, her heart calm as water, saying, "What, are the words ’little sun’ exclusively hers?"
His gaze deepened; maybe it was an illusion, but Claire felt Tristan’s presence was less intimidating than before, replaced by a touch of curiosity.
"Are you jealous?" He suddenly blurted out.
Claire glanced at him indifferently and said, "Know where you stand as my ATM; with your habit of changing women every few days, if I were jealous, I’d be sour enough to die myself."
After speaking, she ignored him, returned upstairs to the bathroom, and showered. Noticing she forgot the towel, she walked out directly, and upon opening the door, saw Tristan lying on her bed.
Hearing her, Tristan also looked up, his face showing a playful smile: "Weren’t satisfied in the car earlier? Want to seduce me now?"
"Why are you in my room?"
Claire’s hair and body were still dripping water; Tristan handed her a towel he’d found from somewhere, saying, "This is my room too; why can’t I come in?"
Claire didn’t know what was wrong with Tristan; usually, apart from those activities, they occasionally used the bed, but spent more time in the living room and kitchen than this marital bedroom.
But she was too lazy to figure out his intentions; men’s thoughts are unfathomable, trying so hard to understand them is less beneficial than directly sleeping.
Claire opened her eyes again to find it was the next morning. Unfortunately, she found herself in Tristan’s embrace, like a child, her whole body curled up in his arms.
Unceremoniously, she slapped his arm with a loud smack, waking Tristan and leaving a red mark.
He looked at the red handprint on his arm, coldly staring at her: "Do you want to be widowed?"
Claire changed out of her pajamas, picked a professional outfit from the wardrobe, not sparing him a glance: "I’m your first heir; being widowed would surely be a better life than now."
Tristan also got out of bed, glancing at the wardrobe as he passed by her, saying, "Why don’t you wear any of those white dresses?"
"Don’t like them."
Claire answered without thinking.
The white dress was once a secret weapon for winning Tristan’s heart. He was reserved and abstinent at that time, fond of the innocent vibe. But later, as they grew comfortable, he became more shameless.
Tristan sneered, glanced at her expressionlessly, and slammed the door on his way out.
For several days, he hasn’t been back home.
Claire didn’t care about Tristan’s mood; she recently encountered a tricky case: a girl in her twenties received a court subpoena, saying her ex-boyfriend demanded repayment of five million spent during their relationship.
"President Hale, that guy is really awful!"
Tina Hayes read the case file and cursed the client’s ex-boyfriend thoroughly.
"That guy set up a bank card for the girl during the relationship, claiming he was supporting her, but spent all five million himself! Now he’s daring to demand repayment from the girl!"
"Why are you agitated?" Claire glanced at her, "As long as Miss Holt cannot prove she wasn’t using that bank card, her ex can demand the money."
Tina: "Miss Holt was too careless; such a large transaction amount, and she didn’t think ahead! Did she really believe in love the man should naturally pay?"
"Tina."
Claire spoke gently, her eyes a bit cold.
"Don’t casually judge clients."
Hearing her tone, Tina fell silent; their boss detested gossip, especially about clients. She quickly apologized and left dejectedly.
Claire called Jane Holt.