Bound to my Enemy-Chapter 164.

I’m still staring at her when my body finally decides to move. Rhe chair legs scrape loudly against the floor as I push back from the table and stand. Seein that I recognize her maybe? Margaret leaves her there and heads back to the kitchen.

My heart is beating faster now for some reason, not like I’m scared though jusy.... confused kind. The kind where something doesn’t add up and your brain keeps trying to piece together a puzzle tat doesn’t even mak sense.

"Claire...?"

She doesn’t answer, she just..... just stands there watcheing me, still standing near the doorway where Margaret left her with that same small smile on her lips.

I walk toward her slowly trying to read her face.

"What’s going on?" I ask.

My arms cross over my chest without me even realizing it.

"Why are you at my house so early in the morning?. Did something happen?"

Still nothing.

Claire tilts her head slightly like she’s studying me, like she’s trying to figure something out about me that she didn’t know before.

Behind her, I hear Margaret moving around in the kitchen.

Margaret steps halfway out of the kitchen doorway and looks at Claire.

"Sit, I’ll bring you something to eat," she says casually... so casually, like Claire has been here before and like this is normal.

My head snaps toward Margaret.

"You know her?"

Margaret doesn’t even look surprised by the question.

She gives Claire a small nod instead.

"I’ll bring it," she repeats.

Then she disappears back into the kitchen before I can ask anything else.

I just stand there for a secon, looking from the kitchen doorway... and back to Claire.

"What the hell is going on?" I mutter under my breath.

Claire finally moves, not toward the door or towards toward me. She walks deeper into the dining room like she belongs here.

My house suddenly feels unfamiliar.... Lkke I’m the visitor.

She reaches the dining table, then pulls out a chair and not just any chair.

Zane’s chair.

The one directly across from where I had been sitting..... and the one he always takes every meal... breakfast and dinner that he’s here.

Without thinking, the words are already coming out of my mouth .

"Claire..."

She sits comfortably into the chair leanin back slightly. Her fingers rest loosely on the table like she’s sat there a hundred times before.

And something about that makes heat rush up my neck.

I take a step forward.

"Get up."

She doesn’t move which makes My jaw tightens

"That’s..."

"Zane’s chair?." Claire finishes calmly for me.

My mouth opens and closes.....

She lifts one eyebrow slightly.

"Yeah," she says.

"I know."

The room goes completely still, for a moment I honestly think I misheard her.

"You... what?"

Claire taps one finger lightly on the table surface likw she has all the time in the world.

"I know that’s where he sits," she says.

My stomach twists.

"How do you know that?"

The question comes out faster than I mean it to.

My eyes narrow at her... Claire doesn’t look uncomfortable, she doesn’t look nervous.

If anything...She looks amused.

Margaret walks back in at that moment carrying another plate.

The smell of food fills the air again.

Warm bread and eggs and Something with herbs.

She sets the plate down in front of Claire.....Right in Zane’s spot while Claire smiles politely at her.

"Thank you."

Margaret nods once.

"You’re welcome."

Then she turns and heads back toward the kitchen again, like nothing about this situation is strange, lyk nothing about this moment needs explanation.

My head slowly turns back to Claire.

"You still haven’t answered me."

She picks up the fork Margaret brought, examining it briefly.

Then finally looks up at me again directly and something in her expression makes my chest tighten. Because Claire doesn’t look like a guest here, she doesn’t look like someone who accidentally showed up.

She looks comfortable wayyyyyyy too comfortable.

Like she already knew exactly where she was comin and that thought sends a slow, uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.

"How," I say again, slower this time, "do you know that’s Zane’s seat?"

Claire’s smile grows just a little.

And suddenly I’m not sure I like the answer that might be coming.

For a moment neither of us says anything az Claire takes a small bite of the food Margaret placed in front of her, like this is just another casual morning.

Like she didn’t just walk into my house unannounced, like she didn’t sit in my fucking husband’s chair.

My fingers curl slowly against the back of the chair beside me.

I don’t sit, I just stand there staring at her and waiting.

Claire chews, swallows, then reaches for the glass of water Margaret left beside the plate.

She takes her sweet little time drinking it and My patience snaps.

"Claire."

My voice comes out tighter this time, she looks up at me again, calm as ever.

"Ask your husband."

I blink.

"What?"

She shrugs slightly and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Ask Zane."

For a second my brain refuses to process what she just said. Mt hands fall to my sides.

"Ask... my husband?" I repeat slowly.

Claire nods once and picks up her fork again like the conversation is already over.

Something hot rises in my chest, confusion, frustration and a huge chunk of anger.

"No," I say, shaking my head.

"No, you don’t get to just say something like that and then act like nothing happened."

Claire pauses mid-bite but doesn’t look surprised.

I step closer to her now.

"What hell is going on?"

She watches me quietly, her eyes moving across my face like she’s reading something there....Studying my reactions.

My voice gets a little louder without me meaning it to.

"Four the thousandth time why are you here?."

Claire sighs softly and leans back slightly in the chair.

Zane’s chair.

That thought irritates me all over again.

"You really don’t know?" she asks.