The Ninth Time I Took Off My Wedding Ring Chapter 08
“Claire!” Clifford’s voice tore through the night air. “Seven years–you’re still my wife!”
Nathaniel slowly rose from his seat, positioning himself protectively in front of me, his expression serene as if Clifford’s appearance were merely an insect that had wandered into the wrong party.
“Who is he?” Clifford pushed past the security guards trying to restrain him, his gaze fixed on Nathaniel, his voice distorted with rage. “This is bigamy! What you’re doing is illegal!”
I stood up from my chair, looking at this man I once thought would spend his life beside me. He’d grown thin, his hair indeed half–white now, his eyes sunken like a beaten dog. Yet my heart felt nothing–not even pity.
“Clifford,” I said calmly, adjusting my sleeves as if handling an inconsequential document, “we terminated the separation agreement long ago. Two years ago, remember?”
“So what if we terminated it!” Clifford’s voice cracked. “You promised you’d restore it! It was just a fight!”
Nathaniel helpfully raised his wrist, the sapphire crystal of his watch reflecting Clifford’s distorted face. “Mr. Montgomery, you should brush up on your legal knowledge.”
Clifford reached out, trying to grab me. “Come with me, Claire. She can’t threaten us anymore-”
Before his hand could touch me, Nathaniel precisely caught his
wrist joint. A soft “click,” and Clifford grunted in pain, forced to release his grip.
Clifford stumbled backward, then suddenly broke into a grin. That smile reminded me of a dying animal’s final struggle- fervent and desperate.
“I had someone break her leg.” His eyes blazed with an eerie brightness as he pulled out his phone, showing a photo on the screen–Brianna lying in a hospital bed, her left leg in a cast.
“She’d been faking her limp to fool us. Now she’s really lame. Fair, isn’t it?” He gazed at me intently, like a devotee awaiting divine approval. “I removed the obstacle for you.”
I fell silent for a moment, suddenly remembering that night two years ago.
“Clifford,” I said softly, “two years ago when I overdosed, the nurse asked me for my emergency contact.”
I looked at him, watching the color drain from his face instantly. “I gave her Flora’s number. Because at the time, you were in Brianna’s hospital room, saying she needed someone to help her through her surgical recovery.”
“But she wasn’t even injured then, was she?”
Clifford opened his mouth but no sound came out.
I retrieved the black envelope from my purse, the Hayes–Wilder
family crest embossed in gold foil on the seal.
“The engagement party is on the fifteenth of next month, at St.
Peter’s Cathedral.” I placed the envelope on the table. “If you want to attend the ceremony, remember to wear formal attire.”
With trembling hands, Clifford opened the invitation. Beside Claire Hayes’s name stood Nathaniel Wilder. The two names side
by side, like an uncrossable boundary.
“You never wore…” his voice was hoarse, “any ring I gave you for more than a month.”
“Because every time, you’d take it back for her.” I lowered my
gaze. “Give it to me, take it back, give it to me again–like a recycled prop.”
Clifford suddenly dropped to his knees, ignoring the stares of all
the family patriarchs around us. He clutched at my dress hem,
his voice shattered like glass:
“I’ll transfer all my assets to you… I’ll never see her again…
Claire, just look at me…”
His fingers clung desperately to my skirt. “I’ve been searching for you for two years. The doctors say my heart could give out any day… just take pity on me…‘
Nathaniel finally stood, shielding me behind him. His movement
was gentle but carried undeniable authority.
“Montgomery, let go.”
Clifford held on stubbornly, like a drowning man grasping the last straw.
Nathaniel bent down, whispering in his ear: “My grandfather had an old saying ‘A person or two can disappear in the swamps, and even the alligators won’t bother digesting them.“”
Clifford’s fingers froze instantly.
Nathaniel escorted me away, my heels clicking over the
invitation that had fallen to the floor. Behind us came Clifford’s heart–wrenching cries, but I didn’t look back.
The moment we stepped out of the venue, the night breeze dispersed the perfume from my hair. I remembered what
Clifford had said seven years ago at our first wedding: “Claire, we’ll never truly be apart.”
He was right. We would never truly be apart–just as a criminal can never be separated from his crimes, just as a hunter can
never be separated from his prey.
Only now, I was the hunter.