New beginning: Billionaire love story novel Chapter 456

Another week had passed, and Matthew was still in a coma. Claire visited him daily, and her routine now consisted of a blend of hospital visits and mountains of work. She'd ask the doctor about Matthew’s condition every single time, hoping for some kind of miracle answer.

But the doctor would always give her the same calm but frustrating response: "Matthew is stable. However, when he will wake up… we really don’t know."

The uncertainty gnawed at Claire, but she pushed through. Someone had to keep things running, and for the first time, she was doing it all on her own—no Matthew to lean on, no quick advice, no snarky remarks to make her laugh through the stress. It was just her against endless paperwork and the never-ending demands of Cryptonic. Sleep became a distant memory, replaced by coffee-fueled nights and power naps that lasted five minutes, if that.

One particularly grueling afternoon, Claire was sitting at her desk, surrounded by a fortress of documents. She was mid-sip of her fifth cup of coffee for the day when Sandra knocked on the office door and poked her head in.

"Claire?" Sandra said cautiously, knowing her boss was probably running on fumes.

"What now?" Claire groaned, not even looking up from the spreadsheet she was glaring at like it had personally offended her.

Sandra stepped inside, holding a tablet. "You’ve got to attend the opening night for one of our client’s new stores. It’s a big deal."

Claire dropped her pen, slumping back in her chair with a dramatic sigh. "You’re kidding me. Can’t I just send flowers or, I don’t know, a life-sized cardboard cutout of myself?"

Sandra smiled faintly. "It’s your client, Claire. You kind of don’t have a choice."

Rubbing her temples, Claire gave in. "Fine. Book me a hair and makeup stylist, and find someone to pick an outfit because, trust me, I cannot even think about clothes right now."

As if the universe decided to intervene, a voice from behind Sandra chimed in, full of energy and unmistakably familiar. "Well, well, well! Look who’s drowning in work!"

Claire looked up to see Talia, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. She was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Talia?!" Claire exclaimed, momentarily forgetting her exhaustion.

"In the flesh," Talia said dramatically as she stepped into the room. Behind her, a small entourage followed—two stylists, a makeup artist, and someone pushing a rack loaded with dresses.

Sandra, amused but relieved to let someone else take over, quietly slipped out of the room.

Claire stood up, staring at Talia in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"Obviously saving you from yourself," Talia said with a playful smirk. "I know you’d never make it back to your penthouse, so I brought the magic here."

Claire chuckled, shaking her head in defeat. "You really are something else."

The two hugged warmly. It had been far too long since they’d seen each other, and Talia’s presence felt like a much-needed shot of energy in Claire’s chaotic life.

Talia clapped her hands. "Alright, people! You know the drill. Let’s get to work!"

The team sprang into action, wheeling the rack of dresses into position and setting up their makeup stations like they were about to shoot a movie.

Claire plopped back into her chair, watching the scene with mild amusement. "This feels excessive."

"Excessive?" Talia repeated, already rifling through the dresses. "Honey, this is necessary. Look at you—stress wrinkles, tired eyes. You need me more than you know."

"Thanks for the reminder," Claire muttered sarcastically, though she couldn’t help but smirk.

Talia held up a sleek black gown and eyed Claire critically. "What about this one?"

Claire waved a hand dismissively. "If you handed me a potato sack, I’d wear it. Just pick something and be done with it."