---- Chapter 7 No.7 The legal battle was waged by proxy, a war of words fought by sharks in New York while Clare healed in the California sun. Ben became her buffer, translating the dense legalese into simple terms. He was a constant, calming presence. They fell into an easy rhythm, taking long walks on the beach where her story came out in small pieces, over coffee in the mornings or watching the sunset from the deck. He just listened, his empathy a quiet, healing balm. One evening, Clare received a video call from an unrecognized number. She hesitated, then answered. Karis's face filled the screen. She was in a car, the image shaky. Her makeup was smeared, her eyes wild. "You have to stop," Karis hissed. "You're ruining him." "What are you talking about?" Clare asked, her voice cold. "The lawyers! The things you're accusing him of! It's all lies! He's a good man, Clare. You were the one who was ungrateful." "He left me on a mountain to die, Karis." "He was just trying to teach you a lesson!" she shrieked. "You ---- were out of control! And you killed his baby!" The accusation, so raw and vicious, still had the power to wound. Clare flinched. "This has nothing to do with you, Karis," Clare said, trying to keep her voice steady. "It has everything to do with me!" Karis's face contorted with a rage that was terrifying. "I love him! I've always loved him! You were just a placeholder, a pretty little doll he was playing with until he was ready for the real thing! And now you're trying to take him down, and | won't let you!" The line went dead. Clare stood in the kitchen, trembling with a mixture of anger and a strange, hollow pity for the woman on the screen. She was so lost, so consumed. A few days later, Ben suggested a trip. "Let's get out of the house. There's a little arts festival down the coast. Fresh air. Good food. No lawyers." Clare agreed. It felt good to be doing something normal. The festival was bustling, a riot of color and sound. They wandered through stalls of pottery and paintings, the smell of fried dough and salt water in the air. Clare, who had always loved art, felt a flicker of her old self. They were walking along the crowded wharf when Clare felt a ---- sudden, violent shove from behind. She stumbled forward, her arms flailing. The edge of the wharf was right there. The dark, churning water just below. An arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. It was Ben. He held her steady, his body a shield. "What the hell?" he said, turning around. Clare followed his gaze. Karis was standing there, her face pale, her eyes burning with a feverish intensity. She had been aiming to push Clare into the water. "Stay away from him!" Karis screamed, lunging at Clare again. Ben moved between them, holding Karis back by her shoulders. "Karis, stop it! You need to leave. Now." "You don't know anything!" she sobbed, struggling against his grip. "She's trying to destroy him! He's all | have!" Her frantic struggles suddenly ceased. Her body went limp. Her eyes glazed over, a look of utter confusion on her face. "Chase?" she whispered, looking around as if she'd just woken up. "Where am |?" Security guards were converging on them, alerted by the commotion. ---- Ben looked from Karis's bewildered face to Clare's shocked one. "I've got this," he said to Clare, his voice low and firm. "Go wait by the car. I'll handle it." Clare didn't argue. She turned and walked away, her legs unsteady. She didn't look back at the woman who had just tried to kill her, the woman who was now weeping in the arms of strangers, calling a name that would never save her.