It wasn't even a full week after the hospital when Claire showed up uninvited.
Jade had just finished folding the last of Cole's dress shirts, methodically smoothing the crisp fabric with trembling fingers, when the doorbell rang. The penthouse was silent except for the soft tick of the wall clock and the distant hum of traffic below. She hesitated, something in her chest already sinking before slowly walking to the door.
She opened it to find Claire Blaine standing on the threshold, composed and glacial, like a judgment handed down by a court Jade hadn't agreed to stand trial in. She was dressed in tailored beige, her heels sharp and polished, her expression tighter than the bun coiled at the nape of her neck.
Jade blinked.
Claire didn't wait for permission. She stepped inside like she owned the place. Like she always had.
"You're still here," Claire remarked, looking around the space with thinly veiled disdain.
Her eyes flicked over the folded laundry on the table, the untouched tea on the counter, the faint signs of a life being quietly held together.
Jade's grip tightened around the towel she was still holding. "I live here."
Claire tilted her head slightly. "Temporarily," she corrected, as if speaking to someone who didn't understand how leases or marriages worked. "Or did Cole forget to mention that?"
Jade said nothing. Her heart was already in her throat, thudding hard.
Claire walked further in, her stilettos tapping on the hardwood. She made her way to the living room, sat down with theatrical grace, and crossed her legs like she was settling in for a deposition.
"Let's not drag this out," she said, brushing invisible lint from her coat sleeve. "This… arrangement. It was doomed from the start."
Jade stiffened. "If you're here on Cole's behalf—"
"I'm here for the family," Claire cut in sharply. "The reputation. The legacy."
Jade's breath caught. "I'm not some PR disaster. I'm his wife."
Claire smiled, cold and paper-thin. "A title doesn't make it true."
The words sank deep.
"You were a fling that lasted too long," Claire went on. "A wild decision he couldn't cleanly undo. You, with your tragic roles and emotional instability. Honestly, it's like he married one of his clients instead of a real partner."
Jade's fingers dug into the towel.
"I loved him," she said, the confession slipping out like a last thread unraveling.
Claire tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes.
"Loved him?" she echoed. "Sweetheart, Cole doesn't want love. He wants control. Stability. Discipline. That's how he's built his career, how he made partner at twenty-nine. You think tears and tragedies impress someone like him?"
Jade stood very still.
"I supported him," she said quietly. "Every late night. Every case. Every press nightmare."
"And you still made him weak," Claire said, standing. Her eyes narrowed. "The miscarriage, the breakdown, the photos outside the hospital, your grief made headlines. Cole's name was dragged through tabloids. Sympathy doesn't win court cases, Jade. Strength does."
Jade looked away. Her vision blurred for a moment. She couldn't tell if it was from anger or exhaustion.
Claire stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You embarrassed him. You turned his life into a performance he didn't audition for. You were supposed to be the quiet, decorative wife. Not a hurricane in heels."
The silence between them stretched and strained.
Then Claire delivered the final blow.
"Cole only ever loved Vivien. You know that, don't you?"
Jade's breath caught in her throat.
Claire's voice softened, almost kindly, like pity layered over poison.
"He might have married you, but his heart? His loyalty? That was always hers."
Jade stared at her, stunned. "Then why did he marry me at all?"
Claire shrugged. "To silence rumors. To keep appearances. Because a cold lawyer marrying an actress made headlines that suited him, back then. It gave him an edge. But it was never about you."
Jade's voice cracked. "I gave him everything."
"And now it's time to walk away with what little you have left."
Claire turned to leave, but paused with her hand on the doorframe. Her gaze flicked over Jade one last time.
"You're just an entertainer, Jade. And the curtain's closing."
She walked out.
The door clicked shut like a verdict.
Jade didn't move. She didn't cry. She didn't scream.
She stood in the living room, the folded laundry still warm beside her, the towel clutched in her hands like a lifeline and realized something she'd been denying for months:
She'd never been part of Cole's world.
She'd just been… tolerated in it.