Chapter 211: Stop It!

Claire smacked Frederick’s arm as if chastising a naughty child, one slap following another without pause. Frederick grabbed her wrist firmly. “Claire!” he snapped. The slaps didn’t hurt, but the sheer audacity—this woman had completely lost her mind, daring to treat him like this.

“What’s the matter? You mad?” Claire taunted, laughing uncontrollably. “Oh, Frederick, I didn’t know you could get this angry! Look at you!” She leaned closer, squinting at him with mock curiosity. “You know, you’re actually kind of funny when you’re pissed off. How did I never notice how entertaining you are?”

She was drunk—completely out of control—and doing whatever came to mind without a shred of restraint. “Snap out of it!” Frederick growled, gripping her chin in a firm but controlled hold.

“Frederick!” Claire shouted, swatting his hand away. “You dare grab me? Who gave you the nerve to do that? I’m your fiancée, remember? We’re tied together, whether you like it or not.” She smirked, her voice dripping with defiance. “If you piss me off tonight, want to guess what’ll happen tomorrow? Headlines. Front page. Your precious presidential campaign? Forget it. You’d be dreaming to even run for dogcatcher.”

Before Frederick could respond, Claire lunged forward, climbing over the console to pin him against the driver’s seat. “Claire, are you out of your mind?” Frederick hissed, caught off guard by her sudden move.

“Out of my mind? Who’s out of their mind, huh? You think it’s me? No, Frederick, it’s you! You bastard! You’ve bullied me every single day since I got out of prison. Every. Single. Day. Who gave you the right?” Her voice cracked, anger and pain mingling with her drunken state.

“You’ve gone too far, Frederick. Way too far. Do you know how much I loved you? And what did you do? Without even trying to hear me out, you threw me in prison!” Claire’s voice was rising, the dam of emotions she’d held back for years finally breaking. “I told you over and over again—Anna’s death had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t me who sent those thugs after her, who…” Her voice faltered for a moment, but her glare intensified. “But you wouldn’t believe me, would you? You locked me up, threw away the key, and you’re calling me crazy?”

Before Frederick could process her words, Claire leaned down and bit his neck—not hard enough to hurt, but shocking enough to render him speechless. For a moment, Frederick froze. Claire was rambling, drunk out of her mind, yet her words struck a chord deep inside him. She kept insisting, even now, that she had nothing to do with Anna’s death four years ago. Could it be… she was telling the truth?

Memories of that night resurfaced, sharp and vivid. He remembered Claire on her knees, pleading with him to believe her, swearing she had no part in what happened. Even now, there was still no solid evidence tying her to Anna’s murder. If it wasn’t Claire… then who? How could Anna have ended up like that—assaulted and killed by a group of thugs for no apparent reason? And what about that chilling message from Anna on Claire’s WhatsApp? The questions swirled in Frederick’s mind, and for the first time in years, doubt began to creep into his certainty.

“…..Claire, are you part dog or something?!” Frederick snapped out of his daze, a sharp, stinging pain radiating from his neck. It took him a second to realize Claire had sunk her teeth into him, biting down hard. “Claire!” he roared, grabbing her and pulling her off him.

But Claire, completely unfazed, glared back at him. “You’re yelling at me? Frederick, who do you think you are? I’ve taken enough from you! You wanted me to shield you? I did it! You wanted me to get engaged to you? I agreed! You’ve been bullying me for years, and now you’re coming after me even when I’m drunk? You’re too much, Frederick! You’re just too much!” Her voice broke, and suddenly she burst into tears.

Sobbing uncontrollably, she let her words tumble out as if the alcohol had unlocked every bottled-up grievance she’d been carrying. Frederick froze, his expression hardening as he pressed a hand against his neck, where blood was now seeping from the bite. “I’m the one who’s too much?” he ground out. “You bite me, draw blood, and I’m the one in the wrong?”

But Claire was too far gone to hear him. The sight of his frustrated face only seemed to fuel her rage. Memories of every cruel thing he’d ever done came flooding back to her, adding fuel to the fire. Who was it always her? Why did she always have to endure it?

Fueled by a mixture of anger and drunken audacity, she suddenly grabbed the collar of his shirt and tore it open, exposing his chest. Then she bit him. Hard. ‘Argh! Claire! Are you insane?” Frederick barked, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief as he felt her teeth sink into his skin again.

“You think I’ll stop because you told me to?” Claire muttered through clenched teeth, refusing to release him. “No way! I’ll bite you to death if I have to!” Her words were muffled, but her resolve was crystal clear as she kept biting, sinking her teeth deeper into his chest.

But then—something shifted. As she bit down, she noticed something odd. The texture, the taste—there was something unexpectedly… good about it? The skin carried a faint sweetness, like a subtle flavor she couldn’t quite place. Before she knew it, her bites softened, and her actions took on a strange, almost playful turn. The ferocity faded as she began… licking.

“Claire! What the hell are you doing? Stop it!” Frederick’s voice was sharp, but there was a crack of panic in it now.