Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom novel Chapter 423

Ethan didn’t hesitate for a second. “Not for sale,” he said flatly.

He brushed past Brian and started toward the house.

Brian grabbed his arm, desperate. “Name your price. How much do you want?”

Ethan shook off Brian’s grip, his voice cold. “I don’t want your money. I’m not selling the house. Please leave.”

The truth was, Ethan longed for anything that might bring him closer to Claire.

Claire was gone. If he sold the house, he’d lose the last piece of her he had left.

Especially that small storage room where Claire had spent three years—the place he’d once looked down on, barely stepping inside. Now, he wished he could live there himself, to truly feel what Claire had endured.

Maybe then, he thought, he could begin to atone for his sins.

Brian blocked his path, frustration simmering. “You’ve got a criminal record. You’ll never find a decent job with that hanging over you. How are you supposed to make a living?”

“Ethan, I’m offering you a way out. Take the money. You could live comfortably for the rest of your life. All I want is the house.”

No matter what Brian said, Ethan wouldn’t budge.

“Get out!” Ethan suddenly shoved Brian away, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Even if I die, I’ll die in this house.”

Brian stumbled backward, nearly losing his balance.

Just then, a car door swung open, and a girl in a white dress stepped out. Before Ethan could react, she marched up and slapped him hard across the face.

“How dare you lay a hand on Brian?”

Her chin was lifted defiantly, her eyes blazing with anger.

Ethan’s temper flared, but as he looked at the girl’s face, his expression changed in an instant. His pupils shrank, and all his anger evaporated, replaced by a stunned disbelief.

“Claire? Claire, you finally came back to see me. I knew you weren’t really gone.” He pulled the girl into his arms, laughing and sobbing all at once, his behavior teetering on the edge of madness.

The girl struggled against him. “Let go of me, you lunatic! Who are you?”

“Brian, help me!”

She scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “If either of you had cared this much about Claire back then, maybe she wouldn’t have died so young.”

“Now she’s gone, and you’re both wracked with guilt, scrambling to make amends. It’s nothing but a performance.”

Ever since Claire’s death, her brother had been searching for women who resembled her.

In the past ten years, he’d found more than a dozen.

Some had her silhouette, some her profile, some simply reminded him of her in their mannerisms.

All of them, in their own way, became a salve for his grief.

This latest girl—her figure, her features—was the closest match yet.

With a little dressing up, she could almost pass for Claire.

Irene understood exactly what her brother was trying to do.

He wanted to find someone who looked like Claire, then move her into the very house Claire had once called home.