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.

.

Thirty minutes later,

Clara Walton was wheeled out of the operating room. Sedated from the IV, she remained fast asleep.

Ethan Blackwood stood waiting outside. Typically sharp and impeccably dressed, he now looked slightly disordered, though his imposing, icy demeanor remained fully intact.

When the doctor noticed Ethan, he grew visibly nervous, approaching with caution.

Ethan didn't speak-he simply fixed the doctor with a piercing stare.

The doctor didn't dare hesitate. "Miss Walton is stable now, but from this point onward, any emotional stress or physical exertion could seriously endanger the pregnancy."

Ethan listened with a furrowed brow. After a moment of silence, he responded with a low, noncommittal hum.

"When will she wake up?" His tone was detached, almost cold.

"Within ten minutes or so," the doctor answered promptly.

Ethan gave a slight nod and turned toward the patient ward.

Once he was out of sight, the doctor quietly exhaled and wiped his forehead. Merely speaking with Ethan Blackwood was enough to put anyone on edge.

He was well aware of the recent rumors, but after years at Aurelux Hospital, he knew exactly what questions to ask-and, more importantly, which ones to avoid.

Taking a steadying breath, he hurried back to his office.

.

Meanwhile,

When Ethan entered the room, Clara was already awake.

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, her mind went blank. Then, like a tide, everything rushed back.

Almost instinctively, her hand drifted to her still-flat stomach.

A gut feeling told her-the baby was gone. It had to be. Ethan was with Fiona Barrington, after all. If Clara were still pregnant, Fiona would never stand for it. There would be no reconciliation.

A strange pang of guilt shot through Clara-for the child she believed she had already lost.

"Are you still in pain?" Ethan approached and asked quietly.

Clara shook her head. "Thank you. I'm fine now. You don't need to stay-I'll call someone to pick me up."

It was just a miscarriage; no long hospital stay was necessary. Clara knew the routine.

She had already taken a week off from work and planned to return once she'd rested.

But her cool, detached tone only darkened Ethan's expression. His eyes simmered with restrained intensity.

"You really don't want to have my child, do you?" he stated flatly.

Clara blinked, caught off guard. "Would it be good for either of us if I did?"

Ethan fell silent, clearly not expecting that response. Throughout their marriage, Clara had never spoken to him so directly. She had always kept her thoughts to herself.

Now, it seemed, she had grown thorns beneath her calm exterior.

Clara, meanwhile, had already steadied herself. "The baby is gone. There's no reason for you to stay. Miss Barrington is probably waiting."

At that, Ethan's gaze turned even darker.

"And what happened earlier-let's just forget it. I won't bring it up again," she said plainly, laying all her cards on the table.

But before she could finish, Ethan cut her off abruptly. "Clara, the baby is still there."

Clara froze. ".What?"

The shock hit her hard-she hadn't expected this. She had assumed that after bleeding so heavily, the pregnancy couldn't have survived.

And someone like Ethan? There was no way he would want to keep it.

She had even imagined that even if she wanted the child, Ethan would never allow it. He would likely force her to terminate the pregnancy.

After all, that baby was a threat to his world.

But now he stood there, calm yet visibly tense, telling her the baby was still alive.

"Ethan Blackwood, you." Clara dropped all pretense of politeness, her voice cold and direct.

He loomed over her, his tone firm and icy: "I want you to keep this baby."

For a moment, Clara's mind went blank.

He had to be out of his mind.

"No," she shot back without a hint of hesitation.

She refused to be entangled with him any further. A relationship involving three people was messy enough. Clara knew all too well that she had never been the one coming out on top. Adding a child into the mix would only compound the misery.

She didn't want his pity.

Now, more than ever, Clara saw things clearly.

"You don't want my child?" Ethan's eyes darkened. His long fingers gripped her jaw, applying gradual pressure.

The pain made her wince, but her resolve didn't waver: "Of course not. I'd have to be insane to want to carry your child. I won't keep it."

Ethan didn't respond immediately. He simply stared at her, his expression grim.

Just as she struggled against his hold, he said, his voice low and cutting, "Clara, if I say you're keeping this baby, you're keeping it."

"I said no. We're divorced. This is my body and my choice. You can't force me," Clara fired back, holding nothing back.

Ethan let out a cold laugh. "Clara, if I give the word, not a single doctor in River City will dare to touch you."

"You." Clara was so angry her face paled.

Right then, Ethan's phone buzzed again. Fiona Barrington's name flashed across the screen. This time, he didn't ignore it.

He answered. "Yes."

"Ethan, I really don't feel well. He hasn't come back yet. Can you please come stay with me?" Fiona's voice was sweet, fragile, and pleading.

Then, before Ethan could respond, a loud thud came from the other end of the line-and Fiona's voice abruptly cut off.

Ethan's expression shifted instantly.

Without another glance at Clara, he turned and walked out without another word.

She didn't say anything either. She simply stared in the direction he had left, then let out a short, bitter laugh. Her expression slowly hardened into one of pure contempt.

Why on earth should she carry Ethan Blackwood's child?

What a joke.

Less than an hour after Ethan left the hospital, Clara quietly discharged herself and walked out without looking back.

.

The next day, Clara showed up at the hospital as scheduled. Despite the previous day's chaos, she hadn't canceled her abortion appointment.

But as she stood facing the doctor, a sense of unease settled over her.

"Miss Walton, I'm very sorry, but I can't perform this procedure for you. You'll need to find another doctor," the doctor said nervously.

Clara was silent for a moment. She didn't even bother asking why.

She already knew who was behind it.

She had no doubt about Ethan Blackwood's influence. The Blackwood family stood at the very top of River City's power structure. If he said no, no doctor would dare defy him-especially not for someone like her.

And if anyone thought Clara wasn't furious?

That would be a lie.