Just as her thoughts were spiraling, Henry Hartwell suddenly ca in and singled her out. "Claire Sinclair, get ready to go to the East District Welfare Ho and visit the elderly residents. Write a report for the public service column when you return."
"Okay." Claire Sinclair agreed, grabbing her voice recorder and DSLR cara before slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading out the door.
As she was about to reach the door, Henry Hartwell stopped her. "While you’re out, snap a few street shots for to use as source material. The the is ’street culture’."
"Okay." Without another word, Claire accepted the assignnt and set off.
The East District Welfare Ho was a fair distance from the Astoria Daily offices. It was, however, just across an old street from tropolis General Hospital.
Claire headed to the welfare ho first. After checking in with the director, she interviewed several of the elderly residents.
Her article would take a specific angle: by focusing on their concerns for their distant children, she would indirectly highlight the loneliness of their lives at the ho and their desperate need for attention from both their families and the community.
By the ti she had finished gathering her material, it was already three in the afternoon.
Without taking a break, Claire made her way to the old street, wandering around and snapping photos.
Before she knew it, she had arrived at the entrance of tropolis General Hospital. Claire put on a mask and went inside, not to visit anyone, but simply to capture a few shots of everyday hospital life.
She got her shots in a few minutes and turned to leave.
As she reached the hospital entrance, she saw a familiar black sedan pulling in.
Through the car window, she saw a perfect profile. It was him. He looked exactly the sa as he had when they parted ways a few months ago, completely unchanged.
He didn’t see her. He didn’t even glance out the window as the car drove past.
Claire stood frozen to the spot. ’He’s finally back, but he didn’t contact first. He ca to see his grandfather instead.’
’Maybe it’s because I said we should get a divorce when he ca back. That’s why he didn’t co looking for first.’
’Or maybe... I just don’t matter enough to him for him to try and win back right away...’
’So, deep down, I actually want him to ask to stay?’
’So I still can’t bear to leave him after all. But what’s the point of dragging out this mistake of a relationship? I know it won’t end well.’
At that thought, Claire turned away, dejected, and walked out of the hospital entrance.
...
After getting out of the car, Adrian Quincy strode into the inpatient building.
He didn’t take the elevator. Instead, he took the stairs, power-walking up to the twelfth floor until he finally reached his grandfather’s room.
Yara Quincy was inside the room, wiping her grandfather’s face. Hearing a noise behind her, she imdiately glanced back.
The next second, her eyes widened as if she’d seen a ghost. She shot to her feet, hurried out of the room, and frantically pushed Adrian Quincy back into the hallway.
"Adrian, Grandpa just fell asleep! Don’t go in, you’ll wake him!"
As she spoke, she dragged Adrian out into the hallway.
Adrian’s face was thunderous. A bloodthirsty chill filled his cold, dark eyes as he grabbed his own sister’s arm and slamd her against the wall.
"What did you do to Claire?"
"I-I didn’t do anything! Adrian, let go first! We can talk about this calmly!"
Yara tried to struggle, but she was no match for her brother’s strength and couldn’t break free.
’A sense of unease settled in her heart. Her intuition told her that her big brother must have found sothing out.’
’It must have been that bitch, Claire, who snitched!’
’That damn bitch. Just wait, I’ll get her back for this!’
Seeing that she was not only unrepentant but also had a resentful, malicious look in her eyes, Adrian knew exactly what she was thinking, and his fury erupted.
"You’re already thinking about how to hurt Claire again!"
"I’m not! I wouldn’t dare— AHH—"
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