Chapter 7

"Midway Airport," I instructed indifferently.

"Yes, Miss Vaughan," the driver replied.

*Miss Vaughan.* I hadn't heard that name in three years. It felt like a key turning in a lock, opening the door to my dusty, sealed-away past.

As the car drove out of the Blackwood Manor gates, I didn't look back. In the rearview mirror, the opulent cage grew smaller and smaller until it finally vanished around the bend.

The sensation of freedom was like a gust of fresh wind, filling my chest.

Meanwhile, at the VIP exit of O'Hare International Airport.

Damian stood at the very front, flanked by eight bodyguards and four assistants, a spectacle grand enough to draw sideways glances and camera snaps from countless travelers. He paid them no mind; his entire focus was fixed on the exit.

He checked his watch incessantly, adjusted his tie, and took deep breaths. He was gripping the bouquet so tightly that several petals drifted to the floor.

"Sir, Miss Lancaster's flight has landed," an assistant whispered.

Damian nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing. He visualized the coming scene: Claire walking out, seeing him, breaking into a delighted smile, and throwing herself into his arms. He would present the flowers and whisper in her ear, "Welcome home, my muse."

Three years. He had waited three years for this day. No, longer than that—from the moment he first saw Claire playing the violin at a charity gala ten years ago, he knew this woman had to belong to him.

But back then, Claire had a boyfriend and no interest in a "merchant reeking of copper." He could only wait, like a hunter biding his time for the perfect shot.

Three years ago, Claire suddenly decided to go to Europe to further her music studies. Simultaneously, Damian's parents began pressuring him to marry, demanding he start a family and produce an heir for the Blackwood dynasty.

So, he devised a plan: find a stand-in, a temporary wife who could fend off family pressure while allowing him to remain "single" in spirit, waiting for Claire's return. When he spotted Catherine Vaughan at a business event, he knew he had found the perfect candidate—similar features, a destitute family background; everything was under his control. Simply perfect.

Now, the time for harvest had finally arrived.