Chapter 8

Midnight. The Manhattan sky was violently torn apart by jagged flashes of lightning. Thunder rattled the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse.

BANG.

The heavy front door was kicked open with such explosive force it slammed against the wall, cracking the plaster.

Cooper stormed into the foyer. He was drenched in rain, his hair plastered to his forehead, smelling heavily of ozone and expensive scotch.

In his right hand, he gripped the black Japanese bento box. The veins in his forearm bulged against his skin.

Claire stepped out of the hallway, wearing a thin silk robe, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

Before she could speak, Cooper hurled the bento box directly at the marble floor at her feet.

The plastic shattered. The stainless-steel inner core bounced with a deafening, metallic crash, spraying leftover sauce and rice across Claire's bare toes. She flinched, stumbling backward.

Cooper's eyes were bloodshot, burning with a psychotic level of rage. He looked like a predator ready to tear her throat out.

He lunged forward, backing her up until her spine hit the cold wall of the hallway.

"You think you're clever?" he roared, his voice louder than the thunder outside.

He slammed his hands against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in.

"I took Kendall to Le Bernardin tonight," he spat, his breath hot and smelling of liquor against her face. "I ordered the exact same cod you put in that box. Do you know what she did?"

Claire's breath caught in her throat.

"She screamed," Cooper yelled, his face twisting in disgust. "She panicked because she is deathly allergic to that specific fish! She could have gone into anaphylactic shock! I know you know she's allergic! This was a deliberate attack! You looked it up just to poison her!"

The lie had collapsed. The biological impossibility had exposed the entire charade.

"You set us up," Cooper sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "You cooked that garbage, slapped her name on it, just so you could watch us make fools of ourselves at a Michelin-star restaurant. You manipulative, disgusting bitch."

Claire looked up at him, the lightning illuminating her pale, terrified face.

"No," she whispered frantically. "Cooper, listen to me. I made that for your heart. Your liver enzymes are spiking. You can't process heavy sodium or-"

"Shut up!"

The word heart snapped the last thread of his control.

His right hand shot out and wrapped around her throat. He didn't squeeze hard enough to cut off her air, but the physical degradation of the grip was absolute. His thumb pressed against her pulse point.

"Do not ever use my medical history as an excuse for your pathetic jealousy," he hissed, his eyes black with hatred. "If you ever try to humiliate Kendall again, I will make you wish you were dead."

He shoved her back against the wall, releasing her neck as if her skin had infected him.

He turned on his heel, marched into the master bedroom, and slammed the door. The lock clicked loudly.

Claire slid slowly down the wall until she hit the floor. Her knees pulled up to her chest.

She looked at the ruined bento box scattered across the marble. Slowly, numbly, she reached out to pick up a jagged piece of the shattered plastic lid.

The sharp edge sliced deep into her index finger.

A drop of bright red blood welled up and fell onto the white marble.

Claire didn't flinch. She just stared at the blood. The diet plan was dead. He knew she was watching him. The crisis inside his chest was only going to accelerate, and she was running out of ways to stop it.