I Was His Wife, Then His Widow, Then No One's But My Own novel Chapter 477

Clara Sinclair had informed her family long before she returned home. Her mother had completely made over her bedroom with fresh sheets and duvet covers, and personally visited the market to buy ingredients for her favorite meals.

When Clara walked through the door dragging her suitcase, Lydia's eyes instantly welled with tears.

"Look how much weight you've lost. Have you not been eating well abroad? Your wrists are so thin, it's like a strong breeze could snap them."

Clara laughed, pushing her suitcase aside. She opened her arms and pulled her mother into a tight embrace, playfully whining, "Mom, I haven't lost weight. I'm just toned and fit. Besides, the food over there can't even compare to your cooking. I missed your BBQ ribs so much I'd lose sleep over it."

Lydia chuckled through her tears. "You always know exactly what to say. Go wash your hands and let's eat."

The atmosphere at dinner was as festive as a holiday. Her mother had prepared a lavish spread of six dishes, all of Clara's absolute favorites.

Robert Sinclair had a few glasses of wine in high spirits, his voice brimming with pride. "My little girl has changed. You've grown into a remarkable woman."

Clara smiled and passed her dad a plate of seaweed salad, a rush of warmth washing over her heart. Out in the world, she was a fierce director, the most relentless negotiator in the eyes of her clients. But here at home, she was just a daughter whose parents worried if she was eating enough and dressing warmly.

Clara stuffed herself with two massive servings of dinner. Later that night, she lay in bed for hours, utterly unable to sleep.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind continuously conjuring the shadowy, elusive face of that man. She lightly slapped her cheeks, forcing herself to snap out of it. "Go to sleep. Stop obsessing over this."

But the moment she closed her eyes, his image only grew clearer. She suddenly recalled the dim lighting of the bar that night. He had tilted his head slightly to listen to her, a faint, captivating smile on his lips. Looking back on it now, it was probably just the patient, calculating gaze of a predator watching its prey.

Frustrated, Clara pulled the covers over her head and rolled over. When sleep still refused to come, she sat up and grabbed her phone to text Nora Newman.

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