"You can drop me off here. My mother is waiting upstairs." Clara Walton was never one to mince words.

She said it and fully intended to leave immediately.

Ethan Blackwood's expression turned cold.

His voice dropped several degrees. "Clara, I didn't take you for the type to use someone and discard them immediately. How heartless."

Clara paused. Seriously? That was his take?

But seeing the storm brewing on Ethan's face, she didn't rise to the bait.

"I'm afraid of the dark. I have claustrophobia. If you'd bothered to learn even the basics about me, you'd know that people in panic don't always act rationally."

She stated it calmly, as if reciting from a manual.

Then she added, after a brief pause, "As for what happened earlier. I was just playing my part as Mrs. Blackwood. That's all."

Her tone carried a hint of irony.

"I had to push Fiona a little. Wasn't that the plan? If we're pretending, why not commit fully? Otherwise, why are we still married? How else would Fiona feel compelled to return?"

She laid it all out without flinching. Completely unbothered.

Ethan could barely breathe from the force of her words.

She remained perfectly composed, and that cool detachment made him feel sick inside.

With a cold laugh, Ethan said, "Wow. You've really outdone yourself, Clara."

"Thanks, hubby." Clara's voice was playfully sweet, utterly unfazed. "So. may I go in now?"

"Get lost," Ethan snapped.

Clara didn't hesitate for a second. She turned and walked straight down the hall toward the hospital room.

Ethan stood rigidly, his eyes fixed on Clara's retreating figure until the door closed behind her and she vanished from sight.

Then he turned and left.

All the heat between them earlier? It had been one-sided. Only Ethan had taken it seriously.

What a joke.

.

That night, at a private club in River City.

Graham Anderson glanced at Ethan, his tone half-teasing. "Weren't you with Clara? What happened? Got kicked out? So now you're here drinking with me?"

Ethan ignored him, downing one drink after another as if money were nothing.

Graham clicked his tongue and circled the table to sit beside him.

Ethan shot him a sidelong glance.

"You sure about this? Fiona's back. All it'd take is a little effort on your part, and she'd be with you in a heartbeat," Graham said, clearly unimpressed. "But now? You're not divorcing Clara either? What, trying to play them against each other?"

Ethan didn't respond. He didn't deny it either. Just took another sip.

Graham finally sat across from him, locking eyes. "Ethan, I know you better than anyone. When you want something, nothing gets in your way. But right now? You're all over the place."

"I'm hesitating?" Ethan suddenly spoke up.

"Between Fiona and Clara? Absolutely." Graham let out a dry chuckle. "Don't tell me you've actually developed feelings for Clara?"

"Not a chance." Ethan dismissed it without a second thought.

Fall for Clara? If it were going to happen, it would have happened long ago.

Yet. he couldn't deny that lately, she'd been occupying his thoughts far too often. Like a ghost he couldn't shake.

Graham clearly didn't buy his denial. "Fiona called me."

Meaning: He knew what had happened.

Ethan fell silent again, though his drinking slowed. He simply twirled the glass between his fingers.

The crimson liquid inside seemed particularly glaring.

Graham Anderson recalled Fiona Barrington's hesitant tone earlier. It wasn't hard to guess-she'd been complaining.

But when it came to relationship drama, Graham knew better than to get involved. All he could do was play along.

Now, seeing Ethan's reaction, a teasing grin tugged at Graham's lips.

"Ethan, care to make a bet?" His tone was laced with amusement.

Ethan glanced over.

"I bet you've developed feelings for Clara Walton," Graham stated bluntly. "If I win, that land in South River City is mine. If I lose, I'll hand over my European distribution rights. Fair?"

The stakes were high-easily worth billions.

Ethan scoffed. "Then you've already lost."

"Alright, we'll see." Graham maintained his half-smirk.

Ethan didn't bother replying. He grabbed his jacket-Lucy Hampton was already waiting downstairs.

Without another word, he left.

Graham watched him go, amusement lingering in his gaze. He finished his drink, then strolled out at his own pace.

.

Days passed in a blur.

Since their argument, Clara and Ethan hadn't seen each other.

Clara didn't have the time or energy to think about him anyway-her focus was entirely on her mother, Linda Walton.

Thankfully, Linda's condition had stabilized, and the surgery remained scheduled as planned.

That gave Clara a bit of breathing room.

"Thank you in advance for Monday's surgery, Dr. Griffith," she said politely.

Nathaniel Griffith responded with a casual "Yeah," standing with one hand tucked in his coat pocket.

"You're really going to talk to me like I'm a stranger?" He looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.

Clara bit her lip before replying, "Then. senior?"

Nathaniel chuckled, somewhat pleased with the answer.

He wasn't originally from River City-his roots were in the capital.

But his grandmother lived here, so he'd spent six months in the city as a teenager, attending the same school as Clara.

She was in her first year of middle school; he, a late transfer into the second year of high school.

Nathaniel remembered her because one day, she arrived late, climbing over the wall to avoid being caught.

He'd witnessed the whole thing, saw her clasp her hands in a mock apology before darting away.

He'd smirked silently.

After that, he began running into her more often. Somehow, they'd grown familiar.

They stayed in touch through WhatsApp for a while, until he left for medical school at Johns Hopkins. As his schedule grew busier, their messages dwindled, then stopped altogether.

And now, fate had brought them back together-with him as the lead surgeon for her mother at Aurelux.

Funny how life worked.

Without holding back, Nathaniel tapped Clara lightly on the forehead. "You really don't pick 'em well."

Clara blinked. "What?"

"Someone like Ethan? Totally wrong for you." Nathaniel's tone was casual.

Clara played along, nodding as if in agreement. "Then once I'm divorced, can you introduce me to someone better?"

"Dream on." He flicked her cheek with a chuckle.

Clara was about to respond when someone came to fetch Nathaniel. He immediately straightened up, as if nothing had just happened between them.

Clara gave a small nod as he walked away.

Just then, her phone rang.

She looked down at the caller ID, her eyes dimming slightly.

So. Fiona finally couldn't sit still and had called her first?

Clara Walton answered the call without hesitation.

Fiona Barrington's voice came through, sharp and accusatory. "Clara."

Clara responded with a light "Mm," waiting calmly for whatever Fiona had to say.

Fiona hated that about her-that unshakable composure. No matter how much she provoked her, Clara remained unfazed.

And then there was her face.

At first, everyone's eyes would be on Fiona. But eventually, they'd drift toward Clara.

"Feeling smug?" Fiona's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Using a baby to tie Ethan down?"

Clara chuckled softly. "Do you really think Ethan is the type to let me get pregnant just because I want to?"

"You-" Fiona choked, momentarily speechless.

Because it was true-Ethan wasn't that type.

He was always cautious, always in control. If he didn't want Clara pregnant, it wouldn't have happened.

Clara's words felt like a slap in Fiona's face.

"Was there anything else, Miss Barrington?" Clara's tone remained cool, clearly uninterested in prolonging the conversation.

Fiona took a sharp breath before spitting out, "Please. You're just a stand-in. A placeholder. A tool. Ethan won't keep you around for long."

She spoke over Clara, not letting her interrupt, aiming straight for the heart.

"You and your mother? Cut from the same pathetic cloth. Using pregnancy to trap men. Look at her now-locked away in a sanatorium, completely unstable. Poetic, isn't it?"

Clara's expression turned to ice.

Say whatever you wanted about her-but bring Linda Walton into it?

That crossed a line.

"Fiona." Clara used her full name, her calm voice carrying a sharp edge. "You seem to be forgetting something."

Fiona paused. "What?"

"Right now, the one who's legally Mrs. Ethan Blackwood... is me. Not you. And if I made this little recording public? I wonder how fast the nation's sweetheart image would crumble."

Just because Clara didn't always fight back didn't mean she didn't have claws.

She simply chose when to use them.

Fiona had thrown the first punch-Clara wasn't about to stay quiet.

"You-" Fiona was so angry she could barely breathe. "Fine. Just you wait."

"Anytime," Clara replied with the same calm indifference.

Fiona sneered, "So what if you're his wife now? Once that baby is born, you'll be nothing."

Clara shot back flatly, "Even if I'm nothing, I'll still be the mother of Ethan Blackwood's child. Right?"

Then she added, almost casually, "And if you actually marry Ethan one day... well, that would mean you're picking up what I didn't want. That's called second-hand goods. Understand?"

Fiona fell completely silent.

Clara glanced at her phone-the call ended with a soft "click."

She shrugged, utterly unbothered.

She put her phone away and turned to head toward her mother's room.

And then-

Ethan Blackwood appeared just a few feet in front of her, as if he'd materialized out of nowhere.

Had he heard anything?

Her heart raced slightly.

She couldn't read his expression-unsure how much he'd overheard.

But she quickly composed herself, meeting his gaze calmly as if nothing had happened.

Ethan knew the history between her and Fiona. Of course he did. One was the dignified heiress of the Barrington family; the other-the unwelcome illegitimate daughter. Naturally, there was tension.

And now, even Ethan was dragged into it. Just what she needed-more drama.

"You're back?" Clara asked casually. "Weren't you in River City the past few days?"

If he had been around, Fiona wouldn't have had time to call her like some bitter ex throwing shade.

But the moment the words left her mouth, Clara regretted them.

It sounded too much like she was checking up on him.

She kinda wanted to bite her tongue off.

Too late now. The words were out, no take-backs.

And Ethan? He stood there staring at her, not saying a word.

Clara, feeling slightly awkward, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I think you should probably go cheer up Miss Fiona. If she's in a good mood, she'll come running to you without you even lifting a finger," she said-her voice sweet as honey.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And what about you?"

Clara blinked. "What about me?"

"If Fiona and I got back together, would you bow out politely and step aside?" His gaze locked with hers.

Well... what, was she supposed to stick around and be the third wheel? No thanks.

Clara nodded earnestly. Yes, that was exactly what she'd do.

Ethan let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "In your dreams."

Clara: "???"

Wait, what?

Was he planning to keep her tangled in some twisted love triangle from hell?

She stared at him, wondering if he'd completely lost it.

"Are things not going well at work lately?" she asked tentatively, giving him a cautious look.

Seriously, how else could she explain this mood swing?

"You worried about me?" he suddenly asked, grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer.

Okay, yeah, now Clara was certain-this man had issues.

Still, standing right in front of him, she kept a straight face. "Of course I am. After all, I rely on CEO Blackwood to breathe. If something happens to you, I'm doomed too."

Ethan let out a low chuckle.

Yeah, definitely not a compliment.

He was only just noticing how two-faced Clara could be when she wanted.

His eyes drifted down to her figure, and his brows furrowed.

Clara felt goosebumps rise under his stare.

"You haven't been eating properly," he said coldly.

Caught off guard, Clara almost blurted out, "How'd you know?" but stopped herself just in time.

"Trying to starve my kid?" His tone grew sharper.

Clara: "."

Of course not. She wasn't crazy.

But between caring for Linda and her brutal morning sickness lately, she hadn't been able to keep anything down.

Things were so bad even her taste buds had given up. She didn't feel like eating at all.

"Let's go eat," Ethan said suddenly, his gaze darkening.

"I need to check on my mom first," Clara said quietly.

"Eat first," Ethan snapped-no room for negotiation.

Clara mumbled an "Okay" and reluctantly followed.

Then, Ethan reached out and took her hand in his.

The feeling. wasn't entirely bad, but it wasn't entirely comfortable either.

As he led her away, one thought circled in her mind-

Wait a second. She'd just gone hard on Fiona earlier. And Ethan? He hadn't even scolded her?

Wasn't it common knowledge that Fiona was his favorite? The kind of woman you didn't mess with unless you wanted Ethan to lose it.

So why had she gotten off scot-free?

It didn't make any sense.

But Clara was smart enough to keep quiet.

No need to push her luck.

The whole situation with Fiona Barrington seemed to blow over almost instantly.

Once Ethan Blackwood returned, he took full charge of everything related to Linda Walton's care. Clara Walton's only responsibility now was to focus on her pregnancy and nurture the future heir of the Blackwood family.

She wasn't overly worried about her mother's surgery, either-Nathaniel Griffith himself was operating. The man was a rockstar in neurology, with a flawless record. People lined up with stacks of cash just begging him to pick up a scalpel. So yeah, Clara could relax on that front.

The surgery went perfectly smoothly, and throughout the entire process, Ethan barely left her side. He was so attentive that Clara almost wondered if he was Linda's actual son.

"Trying to win you over?" Nathaniel asked casually as he stepped out of the ICU.

Clara chuckled. "Highly unlikely."

No one showers you with kindness for nothing-it usually means they want something.

Even if Ethan wasn't the type to stoop low, Clara wasn't about to let her guard down.

Nathaniel simply looked at her, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Just then, Ethan turned toward them, his brows tightly furrowed.

He knew exactly who Nathaniel Griffith was. And right now, the way the man was looking at Clara put him on edge-like his territory was being scoped out.

Even if nothing had actually happened between them, it rubbed him the wrong way.

His expression hardening, Ethan strode straight over.

Nathaniel didn't flinch, subtly leaning closer to Clara. She instinctively shook her head almost imperceptibly-not wanting things to escalate.

Whatever Nathaniel had done for her, he didn't owe her anything. And Ethan? When he turned cold, it went straight to the bone.

"I'm not scared," Nathaniel murmured, just for her to hear. "Why are you?"

"Please, Nathaniel." Clara frowned.

He scoffed arrogantly. "Relax. Ethan Blackwood can't touch me."

Clara didn't respond, her lips pressed tightly together.

Maybe not Nathaniel-but Ethan could definitely make things difficult for her.

To be honest, Nathaniel hadn't done anything particularly noticeable, but Ethan was already upon them. "Dr. Griffith. You and my wife seem. close?"

His tone was cool, practically a challenge.

Nathaniel, on the other hand, looked utterly unfazed. "Mr. Blackwood. I suppose you could say that-we've known each other for over ten years, after all."

That teasing edge in his voice? He knew exactly what buttons he was pushing.

Clara: "."

Seriously? Did he have to call her "Clara" like that.

Ethan let out a dry, humorless laugh.

Nathaniel didn't stick around either-he turned and walked away without giving Ethan a second glance.

The look on Ethan's face? Sour enough to curdle milk.

Clara, however, found it. oddly satisfying.

In all of River City, the list of people brave enough-or foolish enough-to go toe-to-toe with Ethan Blackwood was short: either already dead or not yet born.

Kinda wild. Kinda fun.

.

With Linda's surgery a complete success, there was no reason for Clara to stay at the hospital. She quietly followed Ethan back to the villa-the same place they'd lived after their wedding.

The atmosphere in the car was icy.

Clara didn't attempt to break the silence, just stared out the window as the scenery blurred past.

When they finally pulled up to the villa, just as she reached for the door, Ethan turned to look at her.

"Clara," his voice low and sharp.

She blinked and turned to face him slowly. "Yes?"

"You know Nathaniel?" Ethan narrowed his eyes, his long fingers suddenly pinching her chin-not roughly, but enough to demand her attention.

If they were really that familiar. then he had seriously misjudged her.

Because there was no way Clara wouldn't know what kind of man Nathaniel Griffith was-his reputation spoke for itself.

The Griffith family's background alone was enough to make people tread carefully. And Nathaniel himself? Notoriously aloof and hard to approach-not a single scandal to his name.

And yet, he'd called Clara so intimately, like it was nothing.

That sour feeling in Ethan's gut surged up fast, as if someone had slapped a "cheater alert" sign right on his forehead.

He shot Clara a death glare. He was two seconds away from losing it.

"He's my senior," Clara said plainly, not bothering to elaborate.

"Heh." Ethan let out a cold, sarcastic laugh. "What kind of 'senior' calls you so sweetly-'Clara'?"

Clara said nothing.

"Clara," Ethan's voice turned cutting, "I've told you. You're still Mrs. Blackwood. As long as that's the case, don't do anything that makes me regret trusting you."

Clara snorted. "Relax. I've got enough self-control for the both of us."

"You." Ethan's expression turned to ice. "Stay away from Nathaniel."

"He's my mother's lead surgeon," she stated flatly. Translation: not happening.

"Find another one," Ethan said without hesitation.

"Are you serious?" Clara's voice rose. "Do you really think it's that easy? You know better than anyone what my mother's condition is! If there were someone else capable of handling her surgery, do you think we'd need Nathaniel?"

She was fired up now. "And what, you think we've done something? Did we kiss? Hug? Heck, we haven't even crossed any emotional lines!"

Clara didn't back down an inch. She looked fierce, like a lioness ready to pounce. "Mr. Blackwood, if we're talking about staying faithful, how about you zip it and use that fancy brain of yours? Ever think of setting an example for your child?"

She held nothing back.

That shut Ethan up completely.

He'd never seen this side of Clara before. Compared to her usual gentle demeanor, this version of her was magnetic-full of fire and life.

Clara, done arguing, turned to get out of the car.

But Ethan reached out and stopped her.

Clara tilted her head up, glaring. "What now, Ethan? Gonna hit me?"

"Go change," he said, his tone flat, though his mood seemed to have cooled slightly.

Clara blinked. "??"

He was being weird again. Ethan had always been unpredictable, but now he was just downright confusing. Shouldn't he be yelling at her right now?

"We're going out to eat," he added. "I don't want my son going hungry. And honestly, I lose my appetite when you smell like a hospital lobby."

With that, Ethan opened the door and stepped out calmly.

Instead of walking away, he circled the car, opened her door, and helped her out as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He led her straight inside to change.

And apparently, even helping her change was now his thing.

Clara let out a quiet scoff. Wow. In three years of marriage, they'd only ever undressed each other-for. other reasons. This was new.

Ethan helped her without blinking, as if it were completely normal. Then he began changing right in front of her, slipping into a clean suit with practiced ease.

Clara had seen his body plenty of times.

Yet somehow, it still hit her every time.

Those broad shoulders, narrow waist, and a sculpted physique that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Built like a machine-powerful but not overdone.

And the way he dressed, slow and deliberate. It was like watching a live Calvin Klein ad.

She stared a second too long and suddenly felt a rush of heat at her nose. She reached up instinctively-yep. Nosebleed.

Clara: "."

Ethan turned around just then: "."