The atmosphere in Claire’s office was as polished and pristine as always, but after her last remark, I felt an odd mix of amusement and unease. Was she joking? Was she serious? With Claire, it was always hard to tell.
I took a slow breath. “I really do need to talk to my mom about it first.”
Claire gave me a knowing look, but she didn’t press the matter. “Of course. Let me know what she says.”
That was the end of the conversation—or at least, it should have been. But as I sat there, pretending to focus on my phone, my mind kept circling back to the idea of living alone. It wasn’t a foreign thought; I had considered moving out more times than I could count. But Claire offering me a place? That complicated things.
Before I could dwell on it any further, my phone buzzed. A message from Irene.
 
Irene: “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”
 
I had completely forgotten. I quickly typed back a response.
 
Me: “Yeah, of course. Where are we going?”
Irene: “That new pasta place near campus. Stella’s coming too.”
 
I smiled at that. It had been a while since the three of us sat down together. Lately, between work and classes, my life had been nothing but schedules and expectations. A break would be nice.
Claire’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Something interesting?”
I glanced up, realizing she was watching me. “Just plans with friends.”
She nodded, seemingly disinterested, and returned to her work. But something in her gaze lingered for a fraction too long before she looked away.
.
.
.
The restaurant Irene picked was warm and bustling with life, the scent of garlic and fresh herbs filling the air. I spotted them immediately, sitting by the window. Irene waved as soon as she saw me.
“You’re late,” Stella teased as I slid into the seat beside her.
I sighed dramatically. “Blame Claire.”
Irene smirked. “Oh? Boss keeping you busy?”
“More like keeping me on my toes,” I muttered, picking up the menu. “She’s... a lot.”
Stella leaned in, curious. “Is she as terrifying as people say?”
I hesitated before answering. Claire was intimidating, but not in the way people assumed. It wasn’t just her sharp words or the way she commanded a room—it was the way she read people, the way she seemed to know exactly what to say to make you question yourself.
“She’s intense,” I admitted. “But also... oddly fascinating.”
Irene raised an eyebrow. “Fascinating?”
I groaned. “Not like that.”
Stella laughed. “Suuure.”
Before I could protest further, our food arrived, saving me from having to defend myself. As the conversation shifted to lighter topics—Stella’s latest dating disaster, Irene’s upcoming exams—I let myself relax for the first time all day.
And yet, even as I laughed along with them, I couldn’t shake the thought that Claire’s offer would eventually need an answer.
.
.
.
When I got home that night, my mom was still awake, watching TV in the living room. She glanced up as I stepped inside, her expression unreadable.
"You're home late," she remarked.
I nodded, dropping my bag onto the couch. "Had dinner with Irene and Stella."
She gave a noncommittal hum and turned back to the screen. I hesitated before speaking again.
"Mom, I wanted to ask you something."
She muted the TV, her gaze shifting to me. "What is it?"
I sat down across from her, suddenly nervous. "It's about moving out."
Her expression hardened. "Didn't we already talk about this?"
"I know, but this is different. I've been transferred to another department—"
"What?" Mom's reaction was immediate, sharp. There was something almost unsettling in her stare, and for a moment, I didn't know how to continue—or what excuse to make.
Before I could say another word, the sound of a car pulling up outside broke the tension. The low hum of an engine. A supercar. I turned toward the window and caught a glimpse of a sleek white Porsche Taycan. My stomach dropped.
That looks just like Mrs. Claire's car.
Mom frowned. "Is someone visiting?"
"I'm not sure. Let me check," I said, already heading for the door.
As soon as I stepped outside, I saw her—Mrs. Claire, effortlessly stepping out of the car in her usual poised manner.
I hurried toward her. "Mrs. Claire? What are you doing here?"
She met my gaze without hesitation. "Meeting your mother."
I froze. My mind raced for an explanation, but before I could say anything, she continued.
"Is she home?"
"Uh, yeah... She’s inside. I was just about to—"
"Perfect timing, then," she said smoothly, striding past me toward the house.
I swallowed hard and followed after her, my heart pounding.
I quickly stepped ahead and opened the door for Mrs. Claire, my mind scrambling for the right way to introduce her. My mom had already stood up from the couch, her eyes flicking between the two of us with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
"Mom," I started, forcing my voice to stay steady, "this is Mrs. Claire Linwood-Anders. She's—"
"Mae's boss," Mrs. Claire interjected smoothly, stepping forward with an air of effortless confidence.
Mom's eyebrows lifted slightly, and I could see the gears turning in her head. She gave me a questioning glance before turning back to Mrs. Claire.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Linwood-Anders," Mom said, her voice polite but cautious.
Mrs. Claire smiled, extending a hand. "Likewise, Mrs. Engrid. Thank you for having me at such a late hour."
Mom shook her hand, her expression unreadable. "I wasn’t expecting company."
"Apologies for the sudden visit," Mrs. Claire said, her tone as composed as ever. "But I thought it was best to speak with you directly."
I stiffened. Speak with her? About what?
Mom's gaze flicked to me. "Is this about Mae’s transfer?"
Before I could find the right words, Mrs. Claire answered smoothly. "In a way. But I'd prefer we discuss it inside."
Mom studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Please, have a seat."
Mrs. Claire took the invitation with her usual poise, stepping further into the living room. I followed closely behind, my pulse hammering as I sat beside her, waiting to hear what she had to say.
Mom’s expression remained neutral, but I could tell she was piecing things together. As Mrs. Claire settled onto the couch, I took a seat beside her, trying to shake off the nervous energy creeping up my spine.
A moment later, my stepfather, William, appeared from the hallway, dressed casually in a T-shirt and lounge pants. He paused, taking in the unexpected guest.
"We have company?" he asked, glancing at Mom.
"This is Mrs. Claire Linwood-Anders," Mom said, her tone even. "Mae’s boss."
William’s brows rose slightly as he stepped forward, offering a polite nod. "Nice to meet you. I’m William."
Mrs. Claire gave a small, professional smile. "Pleasure."
William glanced at me, then back at Mom, clearly sensing the tension in the air. "Should I give you three some space?"
"That depends," Mrs. Claire said, crossing one leg over the other. "This conversation concerns Mae’s future, so if you’d like to be involved, I have no objections."
I swallowed hard. My future? What was she about to say?
William glanced at Mom, then at me, before deciding to take a seat beside her. His expression was calm, but I could tell he was curious about where this was going.
Mom folded her arms. “Alright, let’s get to the point. What exactly is this about?”
Mrs. Claire met her gaze without hesitation. “Mae has been offered a transfer to a different department, which will require her to be more available at the office. To accommodate this, she has been considering moving to a house closer to work.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Closer to work? Where exactly?”
I shifted uncomfortably but forced myself to answer. “There’s a house near the office… and near Mrs. Claire’s place. It would make commuting easier, and I’d have more time to focus on work.”
Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And you thought bringing your boss here to discuss it would change my mind?”
I swallowed. “I just—”
Mrs. Claire cut in smoothly. “Mae’s decision is her own. I simply wanted to ensure you had all the facts. This isn’t just about convenience—it’s about career growth and independence.”
Mom exhaled sharply, exchanging a glance with William, who remained silent, observing the situation. After a moment, she turned back to me.
“You’ve thought this through?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
She studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. But I want details. The location, the rent, and how you plan to manage everything.”
Relief flooded through me, but before I could say anything, Mrs. Claire spoke again.
“I’ll personally ensure she’s settling in well,” she said.
Mom’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite read, but she simply nodded. “We’ll see.”
The tension in the room didn’t fully ease, but at least I had a foot in the door.
Mom leaned back into the couch, arms still crossed. “So, tell me about this house. Where is it exactly?”
I took a steadying breath. “It’s in a residential area near the office. Quiet neighbourhood, safe, and not far from Claire’s place.”
Mom’s gaze flicked to Mrs. Claire at the mention of her name, then back to me. “And you’re paying for it yourself?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I’ve already looked into the costs, and it’s within my budget.”
William finally spoke up, his tone even. “You do realize living alone comes with responsibilities. Bills, groceries, upkeep. It’s different from just having a room here.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ve thought about it.”
Mom exhaled, still looking uncertain. “And why near Claire’s home, of all places?”
Before I could answer, Mrs. Claire spoke smoothly. “Because it’s a strategic choice. If there are late nights at work, she won’t have to worry about long commutes. It’s about efficiency and ensuring she has a stable routine.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned back to me. “And you trust this arrangement?”
I hesitated for a split second before nodding. “Yes.”
Mom tapped her fingers against her arm, clearly deep in thought. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she sighed. “Fine. But I want to see the place before I agree to anything.”
I blinked. “Wait… you mean—”
“I mean I’m not saying yes just yet,” she interrupted. “But I’ll consider it. Show me this house, and we’ll talk.”
Relief crashed over me like a wave. It wasn’t a full approval, but it wasn’t an outright rejection either. I could work with this.
Mrs. Claire gave a small nod, as if she had expected this outcome. “That sounds reasonable.”
Mom’s eyes lingered on her for a beat longer before she turned back to me. “We’ll go this weekend. No arguments.”
I barely resisted the urge to smile. “Okay.”
William chuckled lightly. “Looks like you’ve got yourself an inspection committee.”
Mom shot him a look, but even she couldn’t fully hide her amusement. “Damn right.”
Despite everything, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I was one step closer to moving out.
.
.
.
[The weekend]
 
The weekend arrived faster than I expected, and before I knew it, Claire was pulling up in front of my house in her sleek white Porsche Taycan. I hadn’t expected her to personally pick us up, but there she was, stepping out of the car like she owned the world.
“Ready?” she asked, glancing between me, Mom, and William.
Mom still looked sceptical but nodded. William, on the other hand, seemed more intrigued than anything. We got into the car, and Claire drove us toward the city. The ride was quiet, tension lingering in the air. I still had no idea where we were going—Claire had arranged everything, and I hadn’t even seen the place myself.
But when we arrived, my stomach dropped.
We pulled up in front of a high-rise building with an elegant, modern design. The kind of place where the rent alone could probably fund my entire living expenses for a year.
Mom's brows furrowed. "This is the place?"
Claire simply smiled and led us inside. The lobby alone was stunning—polished marble floors, high ceilings, and a security desk that looked like it belonged in a luxury hotel. As we stepped into the private lift, I was starting to feel lightheaded.
Then, we reached the top floor.
The elevator doors slid open, revealing a sleek hallway leading to two massive penthouses. Claire walked ahead, unlocking one of them, and when we stepped inside—everyone, including me, was speechless.
The penthouse was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, and the space was expansive—too big for just me. The living room alone could fit an entire family, and the modern furnishings screamed luxury.
Mom finally found her voice. "Mae… are you seriously planning to rent this?" Her tone was half disbelief, half concern.
I was still too shocked to answer, but Claire did it for me. "That penthouse," she said, pointing to the other unit across the hall, "is where I live with my husband. This one is mine, but since I'm staying with Leo, I haven’t been using it. Such a waste. So, Mae will live here."
My head snapped toward her. "What?"
Claire didn't even blink. "You heard me."
I could feel my heart pounding as I glanced at Mom and William, who were still absorbing everything. Without another word, I grabbed Claire’s hand and pulled her toward the balcony, making sure we were out of earshot.
"I can't afford this," I said, my voice low and sharp.
"Who asked you to pay?" Claire tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "I said live. Not pay. It’s my house. I pay, you stay here."
I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, she turned on her heel and walked back inside.
Facing my mother, she asked, "How is it? I think it’s comfortable enough for Mae to stay here. And the office is within walking distance." She gestured toward the massive glass wall that showcased the view of the city—including Summit River Corp, standing tall in the distance.
Mom hesitated, looking around again, clearly overwhelmed.
William, however, finally spoke. "It’s… a lot. But honestly, it makes sense. Mae’s grown up now. If this arrangement helps her, I don’t see a problem."
Mom sighed, rubbing her temples. "I just don’t want her to be in over her head."
Claire’s li        ps curved into a knowing smile. "She won’t be. I’ll make sure of that."
After much discussion, Mom finally agreed to let me stay. Claire then asked if I could move in today, suggesting I pack only the essentials for now.
She drove us back home and followed me to my room while I packed. Instead of just waiting, she started looking around, taking in my space with quiet curiosity.
"You don't have a lot of stuff," she noted, running her fingers across the edge of my bookshelf.
"I like to keep things simple," I muttered, shoving clothes into a bag.
I was too focused on packing to notice what she was up to—until I turned and saw her flipping through my diary. My heart lurched.
"Hey!" I rushed over and snatched it from her hands. "It's not good to sneak a peek at someone's diary."
Claire blinked at me, unfazed. "I was just curious," she said, tilting her head. "You always look so deep in thought. I wondered what goes on in that mind of yours."
I hugged the diary to my chest. "Well, now you'll never know."
She smirked. "You make it sound like you have some big secret."
"Maybe I do."
Claire chuckled and held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. No more peeking." Then, after a beat, she added, "But if you ever feel like sharing, I'd be interested."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
.
.
.
When we arrived at the penthouse, Claire led me inside with a casual confidence, like she had done this a hundred times before. The place was as sleek and pristine as I expected—warm lighting, modern furniture, and an open space that somehow felt both luxurious and lived-in.
She gestured toward a door down the hall. "This will be your room."
I stepped inside, taking in the minimalist yet elegant setup. The room was bigger than mine back home, with a large window overlooking the city, a neatly made bed, a desk, and an empty bookshelf waiting to be filled. It felt… strange. Like a hotel room rather than a place I’d call mine.
Claire leaned against the doorway, watching me. "If there's anything you need, just let me know. We can get more furniture or decorations if you want to make it feel more like home."
I set my bag down by the bed and shook my head. "This is more than enough. I’m not picky."
She hummed, unconvinced, but didn't push. Instead, she walked over to the window, glancing outside. "It has a nice view, doesn't it?"
I followed her gaze, watching the city lights shimmer against the evening sky. "Yeah… it's different from what I'm used to."
"You'll get used to it," she said, turning to me with a small smile. "Now, I'll leave you to unpack. Take your time."
She lingered for a second, like she wanted to say more, but then she walked out, closing the door behind her.
I exhaled, turning back to my bag. Unpacking should’ve been simple, but as I placed my things into the empty drawers and shelves, the reality of the situation settled in. I was really doing this—living here.
My fingers hovered over my diary before tucking it away in the drawer, this time making sure to lock it. Claire was unpredictable, after all.