The house was quiet. Axiel was at school, and she knew only Mr. and Mrs. Ashford were home.
For a fleeting moment, Clara wished the little guy was home. He had become her friend without even trying, an expert in cheering her up, just by being himself.
She sat there for a long time, staring at nothing. Then, almost without thinking, she rose, walked down the hallway, and slipped into the wine cellar. The air was cool against her skin. She reached for a bottle of whisky, heavy and cold in her hands, and carried it back to the bedroom.
She locked the door from the inside, sliding the bolt firmly into place. Even if someone tried with a key, they wouldn't be able to open it.
She didn't want to be disturbed
She didn't want to feel. Not today.
By early afternoon, she was in and out of consciousness, the empty glass lying on its side beside her, the whisky bottle half gone.
***
Ethan was in the middle of a meeting when his secretary appeared at the conference room door, pale and slightly out of breath. "Mr. Ashford, your father says there's an emergency at home. You need to take the call."
His stomach tightened instantly. He murmured an apology to the clients, excused himself, and dialed as he walked quickly toward the elevators.
"What's going on, Dad? Is Clara okay?"
"She's… she's alright," Mr. Ashford said carefully. "Just come home, son."
The deliberate calm in his father's voice only made Ethan's heart beat faster.
The drive back felt longer than it was. He called again from the car, but his father's answer didn't change. "Get here. We'll talk when you arrive."