When Courtney received the call about Brent, Claire knew she needed to get to Tony. He’d told her to stay away from the estate, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t that she wanted to save Catherine from his wrath—she wanted to save Tony from the consequences of his possible actions. She knew if he learned about the Rawlings plane while with Catherine, he’d blame her—possibly rightfully so; nonetheless, Claire didn’t want Tony to do something else that he’d regret. He didn’t need another crime added to his list.
As Claire entered the gates of the estate, she glanced in the rear-view mirror. Nichol was peacefully sleeping in the car seat. She should’ve left her with Courtney; but Courtney was too distraught to watch over their daughter. Besides, Claire’s plan was simple—find Tony, Emily, and John and get them out of the house. She could’ve called, but then she’d have had to tell him about the plane crash. Claire didn’t want to do that over the phone. As she parked the car in front of the house, she thought about Phil and Eric, where were they?
Looking up at the stately home, she pushed away the onslaught of memories, and straightened her stance. This was their home—Nichol’s home, and Claire wanted it back. Fury filled her chest as she thought about Catherine. The woman’s plan had worked successfully to force both her and Tony into hiding. Suddenly, Claire was tired of running, tired of revenge, and tired of the fight. Lifting Nichol from the car seat, Claire declared, “Look, sweetie, this is your house. This is all yours, and your mommy will not let that mean woman have it a second longer.”
Yes, she wanted to get Tony out, and she wanted to get Emily and John out, yet what Claire wanted more than anything, was to get Catherine out—out of the house—and out of their lives. Damn it! I’m Mrs. Anthony Rawlings, and I’ve had enough. No one is taking this away from our daughter!
Her mind focused like never before, making each step toward the grand doors more determined.
To Claire’s surprise, when she depressed the lever and pushed forward, the doors opened without hesitation. Looking around the empty foyer, she heard voices coming from the corridor of Tony’s office. As she walked quietly down the hallway, the voices grew in volume. She wasn’t ready to confront the entire staff, so when she heard footsteps coming her direction, she opened the door to Tony’s office and slid inside. Immediately, the smell of smoke filled her senses. Even the room appeared to be dimming with a gray haze.
This wasn’t right—this house was a fortress. She had difficulty comprehending that there could possibly be a fire, but the undeniable burning in her lungs confirmed her fear. Claire’s mind spun between the need to get Nichol out and the desire to assure Tony’s safety. “Oh, my God, where’s your daddy?” she said aloud.
“Good afternoon, Claire.”
The coolness of Catherine’s voice rendered Claire motionless. She hadn’t had time to see anything except the room where they stood, and hadn’t realized Catherine was in the attached bathroom.
“Catherine, where’s Tony? What’s happening? Is there a fire?”
Claire’s feet stayed planted to the lush carpet, as Catherine approached. Catherine’s gray eyes darkened with intensity while the distance between them lessened. She was no longer looking at Claire—her eyes were focused on the baby in her arms. Her hand reached out as she said, “So this is it—the Rawls—Nichols baby.”
Instinctively, Claire pulled Nichol away. “Don’t you dare touch her!”
“Her?! You have a daughter—Anton has a daughter, and you’ve been together, all this time”—Catherine’s gaze locked on Claire’s—“Haven’t you? You two have been together!”
Claire’s eyes blazed, displaying her lack of fear. Never had she felt such hatred. Yes, years ago she hated Tony—that was different, stemming from the anxiety of his actions. This was deep and visceral—a loathing for someone who’d been trusted and loved—to learn that person had lied—forever. Had anything she’d ever said been real?
Not only had Catherine lied, but she’d tried to harm both Claire and Tony. She’d sentenced them both to a life alone—a life without the love of the one person who completed their world. She’d sentenced them to her reality.
“Yes! Yes, we’ve been together. Our daughter is a Rawlings—we’re a family. Something we would’ve, at one time, shared with you! Instead, you gave it all up, for some sick, old vendetta!”
Catherine laughed and turned away. The smoke continued to thicken. “Share with me! Oh, so that I could clean up after you and soothe your hurt feelings when Anton upset you—so that I could be ordered out of a room—by you!” As her volume increased, Nichol began to cry.
Claire tried to soothe her daughter as Catherine’s tirade continued, “You don’t belong here. I sent you away! You—a Nichols—don’t get to have what I couldn’t. I won’t allow Nathaniel’s home to be run by a Nichols! If my daughter didn’t get to live within these walls, then neither will yours.”
“How can you be so sick? She’s an innocent child!” Claire’s yelling spurred Nichol’s cries to become louder.