York was kneeling in front of a woman, helping her try on a pair of shoes.
The woman's head was bowed, her long hair falling to obscure half her face, making it impossible to see her features clearly.
York carefully fastened the shoe's strap for Ann, his movements gentle and deliberate.
Claudia clutched her chest, her already pale face turning deathly white.
The only woman York would ever kneel for was Ann. There would never be another.
So this was what he meant by staying somewhere else for a few days—it was so he could be with Ann.
In their three years of marriage, it had always been her job to serve and please him.
York had never once done something as thoughtful as putting on her shoes; he hadn't even so much as handed her a pair of slippers.
The visual shock left her frozen, standing there like a fool.
"Claudia!"
Darleen steadied Claudia's swaying body, gritting her teeth so hard they audibly ground together.
Claudia grabbed Darleen's arm and tried to turn her away.
She couldn't make a scene. She had to consider her parents in the hospital, had to consider York's reputation.
But Darleen couldn't take it anymore.
Now that they had stumbled upon them, it wasn't her fault for blurting things out.
Her brother had no reason to cut her allowance now.
Darleen shook off Claudia's hand and hurled her designer bag at the other woman.
With a cry of "Bitch!" Darleen charged at Ann.
Claudia rushed to follow.
York reacted instantly. Before Darleen could reach Ann, he had whisked Ann into a fitting room.
He turned to Claudia, not a trace of guilt in his eyes, and demanded, "Are you following me?"
Claudia's lips parted, her gaze filled with hurt. "York, it's the middle of your workday."
And yet he had booked an entire store to go shopping with his beloved old flame, personally kneeling to put on her shoes.

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