---- Chapter 26 No.26 The ceremony was a blur of speeches and applause. Isolde spoke eloquently about the importance of the arts. The mayor spoke about urban renewal. Then, Isolde called Clare and Ben to the stage. As the new director of the ceramics program, Isolde wanted Clare to say a few words. Clare's heart hammered, but as she stood at the podium, looking out at the expectant faces, a strange calm settled over her. She spoke about the healing power of creation. About how working with her hands had given her a new sense of purpose. Her words were simple, honest, and heartfelt. When she finished, the applause was warm and genuine. After the speeches, as they mingled with the donors, Isolde formally introduced Clare to the foundation's board members. She took Clare's hand and placed it in the hand of the board's chairman, a distinguished older gentleman. "This is Clare Jennings," Isolde said, her voice full of pride. "The future of this center is in her very capable hands." It was a public anointing. A transfer of power. From across the room, Clare felt Chase's eyes on her. A ---- desperate, burning gaze. She ignored it. She gave the chairman a confident smile and began to discuss her vision for the studio. Chase couldn't take it anymore. He started moving through the crowd, his eyes locked on her, his purpose clear. He was going to confront her. To make a scene. He never made it. Ben, who had been watching him out of the corner of his eye, moved to intercept him. He blocked Chase's path, his body a quiet but immovable obstacle. "| think you've overstayed your welcome," Ben said, his voice dangerously low. "Get out of my way," Chase snarled. "I need to talk to her." "No," Ben said. "You don't. You need to leave. Now." "You have no right -" "Actually, | do," a new voice cut in. It was Isolde. She had appeared at Ben's side, her eyes like chips of ice. "This is a private event, Mr. Strong. And you are not on the guest list. Security will be happy to escort you out." Cornered, stripped of his power, Chase finally broke. The facade of the confident CEO crumbled, revealing the desperate, broken man beneath. "| love her," he said, the words a raw, pathetic plea directed at ---- Isolde. "I made a mistake. | just want a chance to tell her I'm sorry." Isolde's expression was unmoved. "That is entirely up to her," she said. "But | can tell you this. Your chance will not be tonight. It will not be at her home, or at her studio. It will be if, and only if, she decides she wants to see you." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You once told her that a baby didn't fit your timeline. Well, Mr. Strong, an apology doesn't fit hers. So | suggest you go back to New York and wait. And if you bother her again, in any way, | will use the full force of my considerable resources to make your life a living hell. Am | clear?" The threat was calm, clinical, and absolutely terrifying. Chase stared at her, then at Ben, then across the room at Clare, who was laughing at something the chairman had said, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding. She was in a different world now. A world he could not enter. Defeated, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. The ghost had finally been exorcised.