Falling For My Ex's Dad (Clarissa and Gabriel) novel Chapter 172

Clairessa’s POV

After sleeping for what felt like forever, I finally dragged myself out of bed. My body still ached faintly, but compared to earlier, I felt stronger. No fever. No chills. Just a craving for fresh air and something cold to drink.

I’d been holed up in that room all day, not just because I needed rest, but because it was easier.

Easier to hide. Easier than running into Adrian and his mission to get me back… or worse, Gabriel and the drama that would unfold when he told the truth.

The idea of running into either of them made my stomach twist, so I figured if I moved quietly enough, I could sneak down to the kitchen, grab a glass of juice, and return before anyone noticed.

My throat was dry, parched even. I glanced at the empty glass on the nightstand and sighed. There was no escaping it—I needed juice.

Slipping quietly out of bed, I padded across the room, easing the door open like it might squeak loud enough to call them both over.

The hallway was empty. Good. I tiptoed my way toward the living area, hoping I could sneak into the kitchen and back before anyone noticed I’d come out of hiding.

I moved quietly past the living room, ducking my head as I reached the kitchen entrance. The smell of something savory hit my nose.

Just juice, Claire. That’s it.

But the moment I stepped inside, I stopped in my tracks.

A woman who looked to be in her mid-fifties stood at the stove, stirring something in a large pot.

She turned at the sound of my feet brushing the floor, eyes meeting mine. Her expression, when she noticed me, was one of warm surprise—not the alarm I’d expected.

“Oh! You must be Clairessa,” she exclaimed, pausing mid-stir. “I’ve heard so much about you from Adrian.”

I exhaled, relieved. Just her. Not them. “Yes… I am,” I replied cautiously, stepping farther into the kitchen. “And you must be Miss Gretchen? The house manager?”

She chuckled, wiping her hands and moving away from the stove. “That’s me. But don’t bother with the ‘Miss.’ Just Gretchen is fine.”

“Oh no,” I said quickly, a soft grin playing at my lips. “Miss Gretchen feels much more proper. I’ll stick to that, if you don’t mind.”

She laughed, clearly amused. “Well, alright then. I’ll let you win that one.”

I moved toward the counter, eyeing the pot curiously. “What are you cooking? It smells really good.”

“Something special. It’s been a long time since the whole family sat down to dinner together, so I figured I’d make it count.”

“That sounds… really lovely,” I responded genuinely.

Then Miss Gretchen eyed me with mild suspicion as she stepped closer to examine me. “Should you be out of bed? How are you feeling, sweetheart? Do you need me to get you anything?”

“I feel so much better, thanks for asking,” I gave her a warm smile.

Then I glanced over toward the fridge. “Actually, I came here for a glass of juice. My throat’s kind of begging me for it.”

Miss Gretchen immediately waved me off. “Sit down. I’ll get it for you.”

Before I could protest, she was already at the fridge. “Apple, orange, or cranberry?”

“Cranberry.”

She nodded, then pulled out a bottle of red cranberry juice and poured it into a clean glass. She handed it to me with a little smile. “There you go, sweetheart.”

I took a long sip, the cold sweetness sliding down my throat like heaven. “Thank you,” I murmured, then motioned toward the counter. “What exactly are you preparing? It smells incredible.”

“Beef stew, with roasted garlic potatoes and some buttered veggies on the side,” she said, flipping something in a skillet. “Nothing fancy, just something hearty.”

I leaned against the counter, watching her move around the kitchen with practiced ease. “Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked.

She turned to me with a half-laugh. “Help? No, no, no. The bosses will have my head if they find out I let you lift a finger. You’re supposed to be resting.”

“But I feel fine,” I protested, trying to keep my tone light. “I’ve been lying in bed all day. I need to move a little.”

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