---- Chapter 18 No.18 Chase sat in the bar, the echo of her words ringing in his ears. Mr. Strong. The formality was a slap in the face. A wall he couldn't breach. He had come prepared for a battle, a negotiation. He was not prepared for irrelevance. He ordered another whiskey. He thought about her words. "I've cut that part of me out." A brutal, violent image. He had always been the one in control. Now, she had performed surgery on her own heart and excised him completely. The powerlessness of it was suffocating. He went back to his hotel room and stared at the four walls. The opulent suite felt like a prison cell. He realized, with a sickening jolt, that his life back in New York was just as empty. The parties, the meetings, the sycophants... it was all a performance. Clare had been his only real audience, the only one whose applause truly mattered. Without her adoration, his world was just a collection of expensive things in empty rooms. He was beginning to understand that his need for Clare wasn't about control. It was about dependence. He was the ---- parasite. He had needed her light to feel his own warmth. The thought was terrifying. He stayed in his room for a day, the curtains drawn. He didn't eat. He just drank and stared at the ceiling, trapped in a loop of her final, cutting words. Meanwhile, Clare was in her studio. The confrontation had left her shaken, but also strangely liberated. She had said everything that needed to be said. She had drawn the final boundary. She sat at her wheel, her hands moving with a newfound confidence. The clay rose under her touch, forming a tall, elegant vase. It was the best thing she had ever made. She knew he was still here. A lingering presence, a darkness at the edge of her new, bright world. But it was a distant threat now, not an immediate one. That night, she had the dream again She was in her studio, but the door was locked from the outside. A large shadow fell across the frosted glass. The handle rattled, violently. She backed away, her heart pounding. The glass cracked. A hand, his hand, reached through the broken pane, fumbling for the lock. She woke up in a cold sweat, the feeling of being hunted, of her sanctuary being invaded, clinging to her. ---- It was a warning. The monster was still outside the walls. And he was getting desperate.