---- Chapter 27 No.27 Later that evening, back at the house, the adrenaline of the event wore off, leaving a quiet hum in its wake. Isolde poured three glasses of champagne. "A toast," she said, raising her glass. "To new beginnings." "To new beginnings," Clare and Ben echoed. They sat on the deck, the ocean a dark, breathing presence below. "| saw Chase," Clare said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. "You two handled him." It wasn't a question. "We handled him," Isolde confirmed. She looked at Clare, her expression serious. "He said he loves you." Clare swirled the champagne in her glass. "He doesn't know what that means." "Do you?" Isolde asked gently. Clare thought for a long moment. She thought about the desperate, clinging feeling she'd had for Chase. She thought about the warm, steady affection she felt for Ben. They were two different languages. "I'm learning," Clare said. "I'm learning that love isn't ---- something you fall into, like a hole. It's something you build, like a house. Brick by brick." She looked at her scarred hands. "I'm learning that my own two hands are enough to build a life I'm proud of. A partner would be nice. A companion. But a savior? | don't need one of those anymore." She took a sip of champagne, the bubbles a fizzy celebration on her tongue. "My own happiness is the most important project I'll ever work on." The declaration, spoken aloud, felt true. It was the core belief of her new religion. Chase, meanwhile, was in his own private hell. Isolde's threat, her absolute power, had terrified him. He was locked out. The separation was a physical agony. He fell back on his old, pathetic habit. He started watching her from a distance. He would park his rental car near the construction site of the arts center, watching for a glimpse of her car. It was a self-flagellation. A penance. One afternoon, he saw her. She was leaving the site, getting into her car. He had the insane urge to follow her, to break Isolde's injunction. But then he saw her expression. She looked tired, but content. She was on the phone, smiling as she talked. He knew, with a sickening certainty, that she was talking to Ben. Just as she was about to pull away, another car, a delivery ---- truck, blocked her path. She had to wait. He saw her glance in her rearview mirror. Her eyes widened slightly. She had seen him. Her smile vanished. Her face became a cool, distant mask. Without hesitation, she put her car in reverse, backed into a different parking spot, got out, and walked back into the construction site office. The message was clear. If you are here, | will not be. If you insist on being in my world, | will simply leave it. The finality of it, the quiet, absolute rejection, broke him. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, a wave of utter despair washing over him. He was a disease, and she was the cure. She was ridding herself of him. He leaned his head against the wheel, a strangled sob escaping his lips. It was the sound of a man who had finally, truly, hit rock bottom