Divorcing My Husband Over His Stepsister's Secret novel Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Anna’s POV:

“What happened? Is she-”

“Don’t waste my time,” he cut me off. “Just get over there. If I see Claire get hurt at all, we’re going to settle this score!”

The line went dead before I could respond. I stared at my phone, my appetite completely gone.

“Everything okay?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed with concern.

I forced a smile. “Family emergency. I need to go.”

Seth put down his fork. “Claire?”

I nodded, surprised he’d guessed so quickly.

“I’ll drive you,” Seth offered, already reaching for his wallet. “I’ve known Claire since she was a kid, remember?”

Henry smiled. “That’s perfect, Anna. Go with Seth while I take care of the bill.”

“Thanks, Henry,” I said, genuinely grateful. “I’ll make it up to you another time.”

The silence in Seth’s car felt suffocating. I gave him the address of Dawnlight Theatre.

“So why is Claire still living with you and Blake anyway?” Seth asked, breaking the silence. “Shouldn’t she have her own place by now?

I tensed. The last thing I wanted was to discuss my dysfunctional family dynamics with Seth of all people.

You claim you’ve known her since childhood,” I said with a snort. “Shouldn’t you already know?”

Seth’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “You’re deliberately trying to provoke me, aren’t you? Do you believe I won’t pull over right now and make you walk the rest of the way to that theatre?”

“Then stop the car!” I said directly.

‘Anna, do you really think I won’t do it?”

“Stop the car. I’m not in the mood to argue with you!”

1/3

Chapter 22

Seth pulled over. As I slammed the door shut, I heard he pounding his fist against the steering wheel. I walked away without looking back, pulling out my phone to call a cab.

The ballet company manager at Dawnlight Theatre brightened slightly when I introduced myself.

“Mrs. Wright, thank goodness. We’ve been trying to handle this situation discreetly.”

“What exactly happened?” I asked.

She sighed. “Claire got into an argument with another dancer over a solo role. It escalated into a physical altercation. When I tried to separate them, I got caught in the crossfire.” She gestured to her rumpled blouse. “The other dancer has a bloody nose. Her family is here and they’re… quite

upset.”

Before I could respond, Claire appeared, rushing toward me. She immediately grabbed my arm like a

lifeline.

“Anna!” Her usually perfect makeup was smeared, and her ballet bun was coming undone. “Where’s

Blakey? Is he coming?”

“He’s on his way,” I assured her, studying her face. A bright red scratch marked her left cheek. Blake

will blame me for this. I quickly took out my phone and snapped a photo of her injury as evidence.

“Let’s go talk to the other dancer’s family,” I said, leading Claire down the hallway.

The small dressing room was tense. A young woman with a bloody towel pressed to her nose glared at us from a makeup chair. An older couple–presumably her parents–stood protectively beside her.

The father stepped forward the moment we entered. “There you are! This is going to cost you. Five

thousand dollars, and we forget this ever happened.”

I kept Claire behind me. “Let’s slow down. We should call the police, file a report, get the injuries properly documented-”