Chapter 620
Claire's eyes widened in shock. Lucas Bennett was the last person she expected to see standing there.
"What are you doing here?"
"Playing chauffeur," Lucas replied smoothly, holding the car door open, his palm resting against the frame above her head. "Get in. Someone else will handle your car."
Claire hesitated.
Lucas arched a brow. "It's a four-hour drive back to Cresthaven. Do you really want Eleanor screaming her lungs out halfway through?"
That did it. Claire relented.
During the trip, Eleanor had wailed nonstop in the backseat, but Claire couldn't comfort her while navigating the highway.
It shattered her heart.
Julian Mercer stood nearby, watching as Claire moved toward Lucas's car. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. "Claire..."
Lucas shot him an icy glare. "You think you have the right to call her that?"
Grabbing Julian's shoulder, Lucas steered him several paces away.
"I warned you before—you live in different worlds. Know your place. You can't compete with me."
Julian's expression darkened, disbelief flashing in his eyes. "What are you talking about? Did you... was my father's debt your doing?"
Lucas smirked, neither confirming nor denying. His grip on Julian's shoulder tightened.
"What difference does it make?" Lucas said coolly. "This is reality. The gap between us is insurmountable. Consider this a lesson—you don't stand a chance." Without waiting for a reply, Lucas turned and strode back to his car.
The engine roared to life, leaving Julian rooted in place.
The setting sun painted the sleek car in golden hues.
Oddly, despite the fading light, it felt blinding, as if swallowing Julian whole. He watched the car disappear into the horizon, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Then, abruptly, he dropped to his knees and slammed his fist into the ground.
Blood dripped from his split skin, but the crushing weight of helplessness hurt far worse. His vision blurred.
To Lucas, destroying him had been effortless. Julian never stood a chance.
Inside the car, Claire sat in silence, staring blankly out the window. She looked hollow, as if exhaustion had drained her soul.
"Straight home, or should we stop for food?"
Lucas's voice pulled her back. She had shifted to the backseat to be near Eleanor.
"Home," Claire answered without hesitation.
She couldn't bear another second in this place.
Noticing her fatigue, Lucas didn't press further.
"There's a blanket beside you. Close your eyes and rest."
Claire didn't respond. Miraculously, Eleanor stayed quiet the entire ride.
Claire dozed off until the bustling streets of Cresthaven jolted her awake.
Rubbing her eyes, she took in the familiar cityscape. Having grown up in urban sprawl, she'd never ventured into such a remote area before. Only now, surrounded by life, did she feel grounded again.
Instinctively, she glanced at Eleanor. The baby had woken up at some point.
Her wide eyes were fixed on the passing scenery. At two months old, her vision should have been limited, yet she seemed utterly captivated. Claire reached out to stroke her cheek—
Eleanor burst into tears.
Hungry.
Claire's gaze flicked to Lucas. He was focused on the road, seemingly oblivious. Quickly, she lifted Eleanor, draped a blanket over herself, and began nursing.
Unexpectedly, Lucas spoke. "Not bad. You're getting the hang of motherhood."
Claire stiffened, twisting her body to block his view. "Eyes on the road!"
Lucas chuckled but said nothing more.
By the time Claire finished, the car had stopped.
She blinked in confusion. "Why are we at your place?"
Lucas reversed into the garage and killed the engine.
One foot still on the brake, he turned to her. "Claire, I'm furious you took Eleanor to that godforsaken town. Remember our agreement when I left her in your care?"
Claire bristled. "There was no rule about leaving Cresthaven."
Lucas smirked, arrogance oozing. "Then consider this a new one. Eleanor doesn't leave the city. You broke the rules, so I'm taking her back."
"You—" Claire clutched Eleanor tighter, furious at his unreasonableness.
"If you want to see her, fine. You can even stay with her. But you'll do it here. Under my supervision."
With that, Lucas yanked open the car door. He seized Claire's wrist. "Relax. I'm not interested in you right now."
His gaze swept over her.
Following his eyes, Claire looked down.
The rural roads had been muddy. Her shoes were ruined, her legs streaked with dirt, her skirt splattered with grime.
Claire, who prided herself on elegance, had never been this disheveled in her life.
Lucas plucked Eleanor from her arms. "Hurry up. How long are you going to stand there looking like you just crawled out of a coal mine?"
Claire hesitated. But with Eleanor already in Lucas's arms, being carried inside, she had no choice but to follow.
Early the next morning, Evelyn Carter packed a small bag and headed to the competition venue.
The composition contest officially began today. For the next 48 hours, she'd be confined to a designated room, crafting her piece.
Once time was up, the judges would review all entries.
This year's panel was notoriously strict, and the 50 participants had been handpicked.
The rules were simple:
Each contestant would draw a theme. They could collaborate or work solo.
On the third day, the judges would score the pieces.
The top ten would perform live with instruments.
While the cash prizes were substantial, what competitors truly coveted was the prestige.
This was one of the industry's most esteemed events.
Beyond the top three awards, there was also a special honor—
The Audience Choice Award, determined by public vote.
Historically, the judges' picks and the public's favorite never overlapped.
Professional critics valued depth. The masses preferred melody.
Talent scouts swarmed the event, eager to buy winning compositions for their artists. Pre-vetted hits were gold.
Who wouldn't want that?