Claire Whitmore's emotions came and went quickly. Just as suddenly as she'd gotten excited, she calmed down.
The appearance of Mr. Cross meant one thing: she would be going back soon. And while she'd always known she couldn't stay and watch him grow up, Claire Whitmore still felt she shouldn't have shown so much joy.
If he knew… how much would it hurt?
So Claire quickly tucked away her emotions. She didn't hide her identity from Mr. Cross either, explaining it to him the same way she had with Alexander Hale.
At first, Julian Cross didn't believe it—a time traveler? The very idea was absurd!
But with Alexander Hale backing her up, Julian was half-convinced, and in the end, chose to believe.
Claire casually asked him if he owned a camera, though she was truly curious. Julian Cross was a little surprised. "How did you know I bought one?"
"Really?! Where is it? Can you use it? Wanna take a photo? No, wait—forget it. Let's take one another time. Now's not the right moment!" Claire rattled off excitedly, talking so fast that she was answering her own questions.
Julian Cross was thoroughly confused.
"Well, Miss Whitmore, I do have a camera, but I'm still learning to use it. When I get better, I'll be happy to take a picture of you," he said politely.
Claire was delighted. She made him promise—he absolutely had to take a photo for her, no backing out.
Julian played along, promising again and again.
Alexander Hale looked puzzled. "Why do you need him to take your picture?"
"Because I like pictures!" Claire had expected that question—and had already prepared her excuse.
Alexander only gave a soft "Oh," and didn't ask further.
And just like that, there was one more person who knew her secret.
Fortunately, Julian Cross truly cared for Alexander Hale—he treated the boy like his own son. Claire could tell Alexander felt the same.
After all, he had even told Julian about helping Sebastain Carter—which showed real trust.
Julian had been shocked by that revelation, but ultimately, he understood.
He just felt… heartbroken.
This boy he had watched grow up had suffered far too much. He had hardly known a day of happiness. Julian had always feared that Alexander would grow twisted, his soul warped in darkness.
But that fear was washed away when he saw a smile on the boy's face.
Julian had never seen Alexander look so relaxed—like he had finally tasted freedom. And it was all thanks to Claire Whitmore.
Because only in front of her… did Alexander Hale seem alive.
Julian realized: Miss Whitmore was his light.
And if that light ever disappeared… Alexander would fall right back into the abyss.
---
That night, when all was quiet, Claire Whitmore stepped out of the wardrobe.
She stood beside the bed, looking at the peacefully sleeping Alexander Hale, who was completely unaware of what had transpired tonight. After a long silence, Claire let out a barely audible sigh.
She turned toward the window. The moonlight was soft and bright—it should have been a quiet night, but it was fated to be turbulent.
In the shadows, Eleanor Waverly moved quickly, not taking anything with her—except for the letter she had hidden close to her chest. That letter was her only treasure.
There was nothing here worth keeping. Nothing to make her stay.
She was finally about to escape—this house, this cage, Reginald Hale. Eleanor's heart pounded with joy. Her steps quickened with anticipation.
Almost there. She was so close.
"Madam? Where are you going this late at night?"
A voice rang out behind her. Eleanor's face went pale.
Footsteps approached fast. She wanted to run, but her legs felt like they were filled with lead. She couldn't move.
Her whole body trembled.
Memories of the last time she'd tried to escape—locked up and beaten for three days—came rushing back. It had nearly broken her.
She was so afraid, so panicked, that she even considered smashing her head against the wall just to end it all.
Thud.
The footsteps stopped. A muffled grunt. Then a body hit the ground—hard.
Eleanor froze.
"What are you waiting for? Come with me."
A woman's voice.
Just like that, the fear in Eleanor's heart vanished. She turned around. In the moonlight, the woman's eyes were still as clear and bright as ever.
Claire Whitmore took the lead. Eleanor only hesitated for two seconds before quickly following her.
She knew Eleanor was watching her, but Claire didn't speak. She wasn't in the mood.
When they arrived at the place Sebastain Carter had mentioned in the letter, Claire finally said, "Wait here. Sebastain's car will be here soon."
"Who are you? Why are you helping me?" Eleanor asked urgently.
Claire frowned.
It wasn't that she didn't want to be kind—she just couldn't smile.
From Alexander Hale's perspective, this woman was heartless.
Claire knew people were inherently selfish, and selfishness wasn't always wrong—as long as it didn't hurt others.
If Eleanor had shown even a shred of concern for her son… Claire wouldn't feel this way.
But she hadn't.
"It doesn't matter who I am. And I'm not helping you." Claire's tone was cold. "I'm helping someone who hopes you'll be free. I'm just fulfilling his wish."
Eleanor's expression faltered. Maybe she understood. But she didn't say anything.
Claire shook her head and turned to leave without looking back.
---
When Claire returned to the room, she saw Alexander Hale awake, sitting quietly on the edge of the bed.
His thin figure looked so lonely in the dim light.
When she walked in, he looked up at her.
For just a moment, Claire felt like she was looking at the future version of him—grown-up, silent, sorrowful.
"She's gone?" he asked.
Claire nodded. "Yeah. She's gone."
They said no more.
Alexander lay back down, pretending to sleep.
But Claire knew he was still awake.
She didn't feel sleepy either. Sitting on the couch, chin propped in hand, her mind spun with anxiety.
Something didn't feel right.
She couldn't shake the feeling… that Eleanor Waverly wouldn't get away so easily.
Her gut was right.
Claire was jolted awake by a commotion outside. Alexander sat bolt upright, panic in his eyes.
Claire's heart sank—Eleanor Waverly must have been caught.
And Julian Cross's sudden return confirmed it: Eleanor had been brought back by Reginald Hale.
"But that doesn't make sense! How did he know?" Claire muttered. "He shouldn't have had any clue she was trying to run."
Then Alexander suddenly remembered something. "Was it that day…?"
"What day? What did you remember?" Claire asked quickly.
"The banquet. He knew I met Sebastain Carter."
Claire's eyes widened. "What?!"
Now it made sense.
If she had known that Reginald had already suspected Carter and Alexander's contact, she never would have let Eleanor run.
But it was too late.
Alexander blamed himself. "It's my fault… I ruined everything."
"Stop that! It has nothing to do with you. Don't you dare think like that!" Claire knocked his head lightly.
Alexander looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. "Really? It's not my fault?"
"Of course not! Don't you trust what I say?" Claire's tone was stern.
Alexander stopped blaming himself—but he still looked awful.
Claire was equally uneasy.
Based on what she knew about Eleanor's past failed escapes… this one wouldn't end well either.
No. I can't just sit here and wait!
Claire clenched her fists, her eyes steely with determination.
But before she could act, she heard the sound of an ambulance outside.
In that moment, Claire's heart went cold.
They'd called an ambulance.
Which meant… Eleanor Waverly's life was in danger.