New beginning: Billionaire love story novel Chapter 471

Alexander stood on the balcony, the city skyline spread out before him like a glittering tapestry. The cold breeze stung his cheeks, but he barely noticed. His mind was too tangled up in thoughts of Claire. He let out a deep sigh, his breath fogging in the chill air.

He’d considered inviting Claire to the Harris family Thanksgiving dinner, concocting the idea of a “business bonding” excuse just to see her. But even in his imagination, he could already hear her sharp refusal, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Claire wasn’t the type to accept half-truths or hidden motives. The thought of her rolling her eyes at him was enough to squash the idea.

And yet, despite his hesitation, the gnawing regret wouldn’t leave him. He missed her. More than he wanted to admit.

Why? Why Claire from all of the people he have to think about? Not to mention Claire was his ex-wife. Alexander thought to himself.

Why does it always come back to you, Claire?

He wondered bitterly. No matter how far he tried to distance himself, she was always there — an unrelenting presence in his mind.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the balcony door opening again. He turned, half-expecting his father, but instead, it was Abigail again. Her dark eyes looked up at him, filled with concern and also curiosity.

“Alex,” she said softly, wrapping a shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

He managed a tired smile. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Your mum called you. She said she have something important to tell you.”

Alex raised his brows then frowned wondering what his mother wanted to tell him about.

“Did she said why?”

Abigail shook her head. “No, but it seems that she wanted to talk to you about something.”

He sighed as he turned towards the view of the night sky. “Ok, thank you for telling me. Tell her I will be there.”

Abigail stared at Alexander one more time with a hint of sadness before leaving the balcony for the second time.

Meanwhile, in the cold sterility of the psychological ward, Lisa Thompson paced the length of her room for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The walls, a lifeless shade of beige, seemed to close in on her. Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought back a wave of frustration.

Three weeks. Three damn weeks.

Lisa had lost count of the days. Gretta had promised to help her, to set her free from this suffocating prison. And yet, all she’d done was visit. Empty reassurances, hollow words. Gretta would smile, make vague promises of “patience” and “timing,” but Lisa was running out of both.

The desire for vengeance simmered just beneath her skin. Images of Claire danced in her mind — Claire with her cold confidence, Claire with her flawless composure. It made Lisa’s blood boil.

Claire Peterson, she thought bitterly, you think you’re untouchable. But your time is coming.

A slow, twisted smile spread across her lips. She could almost taste the satisfaction of seeing Claire brought down, humiliated, destroyed. A bloodbath, if necessary. Whatever it took to see that perfect façade shatter.

Lisa couldn’t wait to see the look on Claire face when she finally is out from this crazy ward that fills with crazy people.

The door creaked open, pulling Lisa from her dark thoughts. Gretta entered, her expression unreadable, clutching a file close to her chest.

“Still no progress?” Lisa snapped, her voice dripping with venom. “You just here to check on me again?”