I Was His Wife, Then His Widow, Then No One's But My Own novel Chapter 478

Their gazes collided, the charged tension instantly sucking all the air out of the surrounding space.

The second Clara met those eyes, a heavy tightness gripped her chest. Every lingering doubt and shred of uncertainty evaporated into nothing.

She was absolutely certain now. It was him. She could never mistake those eyes—they were dark, bottomless, and incredibly intense.

On the surface, they appeared calm and unbothered, but beneath that facade lurked a dangerous undercurrent capable of swallowing a person whole.

Under the hazy, golden glow of the bar that night, he had watched her with this exact same expression while she poured out her life story.

Frederick froze for a split second, a faint flicker of emotion passing through his pupils before his features smoothly locked back into an indifferent mask.

He tilted his head slightly, his tone polite but chillingly distant, as if addressing a total stranger. "Can I help you?"

Those words acted like a spark to gasoline. Clara's fury exploded, and she hauled back, slapping him fiercely across the face.

"So your name is Frederick Fletcher. Why the hell did you run? Everything about you is a lie. What do you think I am? Some cheap thrill you can pick up, screw, and toss aside? Well, surprise! I'm not that easy to shake. I'm going to haunt you, and I will never let you off the hook!"

Frederick slowly turned his face back toward her, a stark red handprint already forming on his cheek. Yet he acted as if he couldn't feel the sting at all. His gaze settled on Clara, and a soft, infuriating chuckle escaped his lips.

A tear slipped down Clara's cheek. Instantly, his hand rose of its own accord, his fingertips hovering mere inches from her skin. It was a pure, involuntary reflex—his body moving faster than his brain could stop it. The tender gesture stood in bizarre, stark contrast to the cold, aloof demeanor he projected.

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