Chapter 374: A Dead Person

For a moment, every collaboration he worked on with Wraith felt like a movie, scenes flashing before his eyes. If Wraith were truly Claire, it would be terrifying.

As Arthur pondered, Claire opened her door. “Mr. Arthur Hawthorne, what’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately, worried that Arthur might discover what she had been investigating by chatting with Camila. She went to bed late last night, and it was almost nine o’clock when she woke up. She was about to head downstairs for a quick meal when she heard his knock.

Claire said, “Mr. Arthur Hawthorne?” However, as soon as she opened the door, she saw Arthur standing in a daze, not knowing what he was thinking.

“Oh, nothing important. I’m not going to work today and wanted to know if you wanted anything to eat,” Arthur replied, making up an excuse.

“I don’t need anything. Let the servants handle it,” Claire quickly refused, not wanting him to cook for her again.

“It’s fine. I have free time, so I’ll just make something up,” he said, lightly coughing to cover his intent, then turned and went downstairs. Claire frowned as she watched him hurry away. She had never seen him so lost in thought. Her heart raced, and she instinctively worried about Frederick, fearing something had happened between him and Arthur.

For a moment, her mind was filled with all kinds of problems that Frederick faced, all kinds of dangers, such as assassinations, gun riots, terrorist attacks, and so on. Her heart began to beat wildly, but suddenly, she felt ridiculous for still caring about Frederick. She reminded herself that he considered her dead now and had no connection to her. She needed to stop thinking about him.

Forcing those thoughts away, Claire returned to her room to clean and do laundry. Despite having servants at Arthur’s villa and dedicated staff for laundry, she needed something to occupy her mind. She cleaned the toilet, scrubbed it, and wiped the table… She worked continuously and, before she realized it, two hours had passed.

At 11:40, the servant informed her that Arthur had prepared an early lunch since she hadn’t eaten yet. “Okay, I’ll come down,” Claire replied, washing her hands before heading downstairs. The table was set with her favorite dishes, warming her heart.

Recalling Arthur’s distracted mood, she asked, “I see you seem to be in a bad mood; what’s wrong? Did something happen?” After Claire asked this question, she laughed. She subconsciously wanted to care about Arthur, but she was more worried about Frederick. She wanted to know something from Arthur.

“It’s nothing. Maybe I didn’t rest well last night,” Arthur said. He remembered his worries just now and served her food. He was still worried at this moment. Then he noticed a scar on her hand. He asked, “This injury?”

“It’s from earlier in prison,” she replied with a bitter smile. She didn’t explain anything and just passed it over briefly, but Arthur saw the sadness in her eyes.

“Claire, from now on, I won’t let you come to harm,” he vowed, dispelling his earlier doubts. He realized he had overthought things. Claire had been in prison for three years and couldn’t possibly be Wraith and help him so freely. Arthur shook his head and breathed a sigh of relief. He realized his recent stress had made him overly anxious, leading to uncontrollable thoughts.

He thought, “I can’t believe I thought Wraith is Claire. How ridiculous! I’m stupid enough to ask Shawn to investigate her.” Just as he dispelled his doubts, his phone buzzed with a message from Wraith: [Arthur, how dare you send someone to investigate Claire?]