Fiona Barrington was back.

She had always been the one Ethan truly loved. And Clara? She was just a substitute-a convenient stand-in to provoke Fiona's pride and lure her back. Everything Ethan did was for Fiona.

Now that the real one had returned, wasn't it time for the replacement to bow out? No point sticking around for more humiliation, right?

Clara lowered her head with a faint, almost mocking smile. But that smile somehow made her chest tighten. She knew she shouldn't care-really shouldn't-and yet, a dull ache lingered.

The worst part was Ethan-just standing there, watching her in total silence. His gaze alone made her skin prickle.

"What do you want?" he finally said, his voice eerily calm, as though they were discussing the weather and not the end of their marriage. But Clara could tell-he wasn't opposed to the idea. Not at all.

She smiled brightly, as if it were no big deal. If anything, she looked. relieved.

"Just cover my mother's medical expenses," she said lightly. It wasn't an unreasonable request.

Theirs had always been a transaction-he needed a shield; she needed money.

Ethan's eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful. To be fair, over the past three years, Clara had played her role flawlessly. No fuss, no unnecessary demands. Even his family adored her. And she never overstepped.

If Clara was a tool in his game, then so was he.

After a moment of silence, he said, "I'll transfer the villa to your name. You can stay-I'll move out. I'll also write you a check for 50 million to cover your mother's treatment." He made it sound trivial, almost careless.

"Thank you, darling." Clara's smile reached her eyes.

That one word-darling-oddly soothed his temper. But before the feeling could settle, she handed him a folder. Instantly, his expression tightened.

Inside was the divorce agreement.

"I've already signed. I'm not taking anything with me. Take a look-if it's acceptable, have your lawyer finalize it," she said, pushing the document toward him.

Ethan skimmed through it. She had drafted it herself, yet every clause favored him. She'd even included a confidentiality agreement, swearing never to disclose her identity as his ex-wife.

It was as if she felt nothing toward the title of Mrs. Blackwood-like an employee tired of her job, turning in her resignation without a second thought.

That brief sense of control he'd felt vanished, replaced by pure irritation.

"Fine," Ethan said flatly. He agreed without another word.

A divorce was inevitable-yes. But it should have been on his terms, not Clara beating him to it.

So he seized back the lead in the very next breath. "My lawyer, Nathaniel, will be in touch."

Clara nodded politely.

"Revise the agreement to include what I just offered. And for the next three months, my family must not know we're divorced," he added coolly.

Clara frowned, slightly taken aback. She hadn't expected additional conditions. But when she thought of how kindly his family had treated her, she eventually agreed.

Ethan didn't say another word. He turned and walked into the shower. The water started running, followed by the sharp slam of the bathroom door.

Clara shrugged. She truly had no idea what she'd done to set him off this time. If it doesn't make sense, don't dwell on it.

That night, like every other night over the past three years, Ethan didn't stay at the villa. Once again, Clara Walton was left alone in that cold, empty house.

The next day, she moved out.

Ethan was away on a business trip when the housekeeper called to inform him Clara was gone. She hadn't left a single thing behind except what she'd brought with her-the place was spotless.

As if she couldn't wait to leave. Not a trace of sentimentality remained.

The housekeeper went on and on about how thorough Clara had been. Rubbing his forehead, Ethan felt a headache coming on. His mind echoed with one name-Clara.

Eventually, he simply hung up.

.

One month later, River City General Hospital.

Clara stared down at the paper in her hands. The words "Pregnancy Confirmed" seemed to burn through the page. Her head spun. She never expected. that she would end up pregnant.

With Ethan's child.

The irony wasn't lost on her. They'd been married three years, and Ethan had always been careful. They both knew theirs was a marriage of convenience-emotional complications were messy enough; a child would make everything worse. So nothing had ever happened.

Until that one night.

The night Ethan found out Fiona Barrington was engaged-he'd lost control.

And she had let her guard down.

The memory only frustrated her more. She kept staring at those two glaring words on the report.

The doctor beside her didn't even look up. "If you don't want the child, it's better to take care of it soon. The longer you wait, the more complicated it becomes."

That snapped her back to reality. Clara's face remained calm, her voice steady. "I'm not keeping it. Doctor, when is the earliest I can schedule the procedure?"

The doctor flipped through her file emotionlessly. "Earliest appointment is in a week. We're fully booked till then." He sighed. "You young people-did no one ever teach you about protection?"

He continued muttering under his breath, but Clara didn't argue. She simply nodded politely.

Then she stood and followed the nurse out to schedule the appointment.

With the appointment card in hand, she walked out of the hospital without looking back. She'd only taken the morning off-she still had to return to work that afternoon. When you're an ordinary office worker, you can't afford to take time off lightly.

.

That evening, Clara stepped out of a black Toyota-a ride from a coworker.

She stood for a moment, her hair tied in a loose fishtail braid, and waved goodbye to the driver.

Something the driver said made her laugh-a bright, genuine sound.

Once the car drove off, she turned toward her apartment building.

But she froze right at the entrance.

There, leaning against the doorframe as if he owned the place, was Ethan.

Dressed sharply as always-black slacks, a crisp white shirt buttoned meticulously to the top. Cold, restrained, and utterly unapproachable.

A cigarette dangled casually between his fingers, smoke curling around him, but it did nothing to soften his intimidating aura. If anything, it made him seem more dangerous.

He wasn't wearing his glasses.

And when Ethan took off his glasses, it usually meant he wasn't in the mood to play nice.

On pure instinct, Clara didn't step closer. She kept her distance.

She had no idea why Ethan was here-and she wasn't about to find out the hard way.

A month had passed since the divorce-or what Clara believed was a divorce-and not once had Ethan Blackwood appeared before her.

"Come here," Ethan commanded, his voice sharp, his gaze locking onto Clara as if he expected immediate compliance.

Clara didn't move. She remained rooted where she stood.

Truth be told, the fact that she hadn't already walked away was a testament to her self-control. She was no one's pet, summoned at will. What gave him the right?

"Clara, I said come here," he repeated, this time loading her name with clear warning.

That finally drew a response. "Mr. Blackwood, we are divorced. You don't get to order me around anymore. If you have something to say, say it from there."

A clean, cold refusal. She wasn't just saying no-she was making sure he felt it.

From what Clara remembered, Ethan hated nothing more than being defied. Under normal circumstances, he would have turned and left in cold anger rather than prolong the confrontation.

But she had underestimated him.

Calmly, Ethan stubbed out his cigarette and began walking toward her-each step slow, deliberate, cutting through the tension of the night.

His figure drew closer, imposing and intense. Clara instinctively took one step back, then held her ground.

"Clara, since when do you mess around with other men?" The words shot out of him like an accusation, dripping with something that sounded almost like jealousy.

When Clara had smiled at that man earlier, it had transformed her entire expression-like sunlight piercing through clouds. Ethan barely recognized her.

Throughout their marriage, her smiles had been polite, distant, never quite reaching her eyes.

But tonight she seemed. different. Vibrant. And that version of her was meant for someone else.

The more Ethan dwelled on it, the more unsettled he became. Had it all been an act those three years?

Clara, meanwhile, met his gaze with an air of pure innocence. "Mr. Blackwood, we're divorced. Am I not allowed to see other people? You already have your first love hanging on your arm."

She raised a brow. "Does Miss Barrington know you're here with me? Should I give her a call and let her know?"

With that, she actually reached for her phone.

But before she could unlock it, Ethan snatched it from her hand. His voice turned to ice. "Clara. That divorce only exists in your head."

She stared, caught off guard.

How could a divorce be "in her head"?

They had signed the agreement-hadn't they?

Before she could gather her thoughts, Ethan clarified, "I never signed it. Legally, we're still married. Which means you are not free to see other people."

Clara: "."

Wait-what?

Hadn't he been the one eager to finalize everything? With Fiona back, shouldn't he have been in a hurry to move on?

The tabloids were full of photos of them together-rumors of cohabitation and reconciliation. Clara had truly believed she was free of that tangled mess.

But no. Ethan had chosen now to pull the rug out from under her.

He never signed?

Was he serious?

"The press may not know you're still Mrs. Blackwood, but my family does," he said, looming over her as though he held all the moral authority. "If this gets out and my grandfather hears of it, how do you plan to explain yourself? I won't be made the fool whose wife is openly seeing other men."

Ethan's tone grew even sharper, edged with something dark. "Whose car were you in earlier?"

He clearly had no intention of letting this go. His long fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her abruptly toward him. Off-balance, Clara stumbled, nearly colliding with his chest.

All she could smell was the faint mix of tobacco and a familiar perfume-Fiona's signature scent.

Clara snapped back to her senses instantly. With a cold laugh, she pushed him away without hesitation. "Oh? Does Miss Barrington know you're still legally tied to me?"

"Are you threatening me?" Ethan's eyes narrowed.

Clara nodded, utterly serious. "Yes. Why not keep this simple? You sign the papers, we file at the registry, and you're free. No threats, no fuss. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She couldn't imagine being a more accommodating ex-wife-she was even making it easier for him to be with someone else. She hadn't even brought up the child they'd had during the marriage. Really, Ethan ought to know when to quit. Even a cornered rabbit will bite.

Her attitude, however, only seemed to provoke him further. Ethan had never seen her like this-defiant, assured, utterly beyond his reach.

Throughout their three-year marriage, Clara had always been gentle and accommodating. She never argued, never set clear boundaries, so he had constantly tested her limits.

But Clara had been like a perfectly tempered spring-always rebounding, never breaking.

Back then, Ethan had really believed he was her entire world.

Now, it felt like she was slapping him in the face with the truth.

His expression darkened. In one swift motion, he gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

She frowned, her face full of defiance.

"Clara, were you in such a hurry to divorce me because of that man today?" Ethan demanded.

"Yes," Clara shot back without hesitation. "So don't get in the way of my happiness."

"Does he know you were married?" Ethan's grip tightened slightly.

"Of course. He even knows I'm divorced," she replied coolly.

Ethan was taken aback by her bluntness- rendered speechless. He could only glare at her, the air between them growing colder by the second.

Then, suddenly, his phone rang.

Without a moment's hesitation, Clara reached into the pocket of his suit pants and pulled out the phone.

To Ethan, the gesture was utterly audacious. The slight brush of her fingers through the fabric sent a jolt of heat straight through him-rising from his toes and coiling low in his abdomen.

Just like that, the possessiveness in his eyes broke loose.

Then came Clara's voice, dripping with casual indifference: "It's your precious Fiona. Should I answer it for you?"

It was a direct challenge.

Sure enough, the screen displayed Fiona Barrington's name.

Fiona was the clingy type. The moment she lost sight of Ethan, she'd spiral-calling relentlessly until she found him.

Clara, on the other hand, treated him as if he were air. No matter where he went or what he did, she simply didn't care.

"Answer it," Ethan said, his eyes still locked on Clara.

Clara froze for a moment. "."

But she wasn't one to back down. Just as Ethan reached for the phone, she tapped the answer button. On cue, Fiona's voice came through-soft and fragile: "Ethan? Where are you? I'm not feeling well."

Ethan's expression remained unreadable. He was about to respond when Clara suddenly grabbed his collar and pressed her lips boldly against his, silencing him completely.

His brows furrowed, his grip tightening around her waist.

It hurt-but Clara didn't let up. After three years of marriage, she knew exactly how to provoke him.

If he had the nerve to play games, she wasn't going to make it easy for him. She was determined to push him until he broke. And with someone like Fiona-sensitive and prone to overthinking-even the slightest hint of doubt could ignite a fire.

Exactly the reaction Clara was counting on.

Sure enough, the soft, unmistakable sound of a kiss traveled faintly through the phone. Fiona went completely silent on the other end.

Her voice turned unsteady: "Ethan.? Are you there? Can you hear me?"

Ethan tried to pull back, but Clara held on relentlessly until he finally cursed under his breath and ended the call. The next instant, he was pulling her firmly into the dimly lit stairwell.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Clara felt a surge of regret-she'd lit a fuse she couldn't control. The darkness in Ethan's eyes was genuinely frightening.

This wasn't some luxury high-rise; people came and went constantly. Anyone could stumble upon them, hear them on the stairs.

Panic set in.

But Ethan showed no intention of stopping. "Start something and think you can just walk away? Dream on."

His voice was low, each word cutting. The moment Clara tried to slip from his grasp, he stopped her, swift and decisive.

Then. everything spiraled.

In all their years together, it had never been like this-raw, overwhelming, leaving them both shaken.

Clara couldn't even recall how she made it back into her apartment. Her mind had gone blank.

Their coats lay discarded on the worn wooden floor. A tie hung loosely over the arm of the sofa. Here and there, pieces of clothing lay in disarray.

Ethan had always been controlled-even in intimacy, he held back.

But not tonight.

Tonight felt different-like he was trying to prove something. Every move was possessive, almost desperate.

"Mm." Clara stifled a sound.

He was rough. Her back hit the wall hard, a sharp pain shooting up her spine. Her vision blurred slightly.

And he didn't let up.

As the intensity mounted, Clara grew pale. A cold, sharp pain twisted deep in her lower abdomen. Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden.

She pressed a weak hand against his chest. "Ethan. stop."

He glanced down at her, his gaze unreadable. Instead of pulling back, he pressed further, almost frantic.

Clara bit her lip hard. She was pregnant-but she couldn't tell him. She didn't want to be trapped again.

But if this continued, she wasn't sure she or the baby would be okay.

Clara's thoughts were scattering. She couldn't tell anymore what was pain and what was overwhelm-her body went weak, every breath an effort.

Ethan finally brought that silent struggle to an end.

Clara forced herself upright, fighting back the throbbing ache in her abdomen. Glaring at him, she snapped, "Get out!"

Ethan didn't respond. He wasn't sure if he felt satisfaction or deepening frustration. He knew he shouldn't keep complicating things between them, but every time he saw Clara, something in him took over.

And that only irritated him more.

He stood and dressed quickly while Clara remained curled on the bed, barely moving.

The pain in her stomach grew sharper. Then, in the aftermath of Ethan's recklessness, she felt a damp, warm trickle between her legs.

Her face lost all color in an instant.

Just then, Ethan-now fully dressed-turned back, about to speak. But the moment he saw how pale she was, his brow furrowed deeply.

He strode back to her immediately. "Why do you look so pale?"

Physically, they'd always been compatible, no matter how strained things were between them. But this time, Ethan had sensed her resistance-he just hadn't cared. He'd wanted to dominate, to force her surrender.

She didn't answer.

Instead, she pushed his hand away-then froze. Ethan's expression shifted too.

He saw it-blood on the sheets.

"It's my period," Clara said, forcing her voice to steadiness, hoping that would be the end of it.

Ethan simply stared, unmoving.

Just as she thought she'd convinced him, he suddenly scooped her into his arms.

Clara's eyes widened in disbelief.

Ethan's face was like stone, his jaw tight. His voice came out low and intense: "Clara, you'd better not be hiding anything from me."

This time, she stayed silent.

Ethan held her firmly and carried her straight out of the apartment.

She didn't resist-not out of fear, but exhaustion. She felt utterly drained.

She'd already decided to end the pregnancy-she just hadn't expected it to happen like this.

Ethan placed her gently in the car, his movements efficient. He started the engine, reversed smoothly, and sped toward Aurelux Hospital.

On the way, he made a call, instructing the hospital to have their top OB-GYN ready.

Clara knew then-he'd figured it out.

As the worst of the pain subsided, her mind cleared. She spoke calmly: "Tell the doctor to prepare the operating room. I never intended to keep this baby. You don't need to worry-there'll be no Blackwood heir complicating your life."

After all, no ex-husband wants his former wife pregnant. And no woman wants her partner tied to his ex because of a child.

Especially not someone like Fiona Barrington.

"Be quiet," Ethan growled, his voice low with anger.

Clara actually fell silent. Truth be told, she felt miserable.

The black Range Rover cut through the night, halving the usual travel time to Aurelux Hospital.

Medical staff were already waiting.

.