"It's beautiful... Is it for me?" Claire asked. Her eyes had caught a medium-sized pink box sitting on the bed. Inside, a pristine white gown lay nestled like a secret. A small spark of hope flickered in her chest; they were in their private bedroom, after all.
"No. It's for Isabella. Don't touch it," Daniel replied, his voice cold. "You can buy your own, can't you? Go on, I'll transfer the money."
"Why only one?" Claire's lip curled into a slight pout. She carefully placed the dress back into its box, sensing his territorial sharp edge. "You knew I'd be home. You left it on the bed... I just thought..."
The man turned, his gaze leveling hers. "Even if your face is a mirror of hers, I only want to see this gown on Isabella. Don't let your expectations get ahead of you."
Claire Evangeline Rowan. At twenty-five, she was nothing more than a ghost-wife in the eyes of Daniel Alexander Harrison.
