"Never forget-you were only ever Fiona's stand-in." Ethan laid it out coldly.

He expected to see that familiar flicker of pain cross Clara's face.

But instead, she simply smirked. "How convenient, Mr. Blackwood."

Even her tone was icy, utterly detached.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, a glint of danger flashing deep within his gaze.

"Heh." Clara's laugh was dry, indifferent. "I don't love you either, Ethan."

That wiped the smugness from his expression in an instant.

"You know my background-I'm the Barringtons' illegitimate daughter. I've always lived in the shadows. Maybe I'm twisted deep down. I want everything Fiona has." Clara's voice trailed off, as though she were genuinely reflecting.

Then she paused, the corners of her lips curling. "Maybe what I really enjoy is taking what's hers and watching her break. That gets to you, doesn't it? She suffers, you ache-and I get pleasure from both of you squirming. I can't help it; I really can't stand her."

She took another step forward. "You included, Ethan Blackwood."

She knew exactly what could happen if she kept going-that he might truly lose control and end her.

But she didn't back down.

Why should she be the only one suffering? If this was how it had to be, she'd drag him into the fire with her.

She held Ethan's stormy gaze, refusing to yield.

If you have the guts, Ethan, do it. End it now.

"Clara." Ethan's fists were clenched so tightly they trembled.

But Clara wasn't finished. "Oh, and I'm carrying your child. You couldn't let Fiona risk her health for a baby, could you? But now, this child will always be a thorn in her side-solid proof you couldn't keep your hands to yourself."

She let out a lazy, mocking laugh.

The sweet, harmless girl he once thought he knew was now all sharp edges-ready to draw blood at any moment.

Ethan let out a cold scoff.

In all of River City, no one had ever dared speak to him like that.

Except Clara.

"Clara." His voice was a razor-sharp warning.

"Yes?" she replied, utterly unfazed.

"Say that again," Ethan gritted out, fury lacing every word.

It wasn't a request-it was an order.

But Clara actually began to repeat herself.

That was the last straw.

Ethan's hand shot out and closed around her throat.

His jaw was clenched so hard it seemed ready to splinter. Every word was harsh, low: "Shut up."

And Clara did-because she could no longer breathe.

Her face flushed red under his grip, the pressure on her neck unbearable.

For a moment, she truly believed he might kill her.

But seeing Ethan lose control like that, something deep within her felt. satisfied.

Ethan's cold, furious eyes remained locked on hers. "Clara, do you really think I won't kill you?"

"I do," Clara rasped, her voice like shattered glass. Then, without hesitation, she added, "But if you do, your son dies with me."

That stopped him.

Ethan jerked his hand back as if she'd burned him, sending Clara stumbling backward, coughing violently.

It took her a moment to catch her breath, to claw her way back from the edge of darkness.

"Get out," Ethan spat, rage still boiling in his words.

Clara didn't leave immediately. "As soon as you cancel the order, I'll go. I won't overstay a second longer."

Ethan made the call to the rehab center right in front of her.

Linda Walton would not be transferred. Her surgery would proceed as scheduled the following week.

Only after hearing that did Clara allow herself to relax.

She had won-this round, at least.

But what about the next?

Clara had never felt so drained, as though she were carrying the weight of mountains on her back.

Yet she knew she couldn't give up. For her mother's sake, no matter how difficult, she had to keep going.

"Thank you, Mr. Blackwood." The earlier fire in her voice had faded.

She still held her dignity, but her tone was cold-none of her past admiration for Ethan remained.

To her, this was nothing more than a transaction.

That version of Clara made something in Ethan's eyes turn colder as well.

A storm of emotions raged inside him.

He didn't even know what he wanted anymore. The woman before him felt like a complete stranger.

When he first met Clara, she had always watched him cautiously, as though walking on eggshells.

Even though her feelings for him showed in every glance, it was always tinged with nervous energy.

Ethan couldn't say when he had started to care about her.

Maybe it was his complicated ties with Fiona that kept him silent. He had buried it deep.

Then Fiona, in a fit of anger, announced she was leaving the country-abandoning him in River City.

And out of nowhere, the girl who had always lingered in the shadows began to show courage.

She still called him "Ethan," just as before, but something had shifted. She wasn't hiding anymore.

After another blowout with Fiona, Ethan married Clara-if only to provoke Fiona.

But throughout their three-year marriage, Clara stayed close to him, always treading carefully.

Her love was painfully obvious. She called him "hubby" so softly, so gently, always uncertain.

Even in intimacy, where he tested her limits, she still yielded.

But now, somehow, she could shut off those feelings like flipping a switch-as though none of it had ever happened.

"If there's nothing else, I'll go to the rehab center to see my mother," Clara said, not waiting for Ethan's response.

She walked past him, calm and poised.

But before she could get far, a strong hand pulled her back, and Ethan spun her around to face him.

"Ethan Blackwood, let me go!" Clara frowned, struggling slightly.

"What did you just call me?" His voice grew lower, colder.

Clara stilled, caught off guard.

Her lips parted slightly.

Ethan stared her down. "Clara, you are my wife. Don't address me like a stranger-I don't like it."

It wasn't that he couldn't bear to hear it; he simply refused to.

Clara knew when to yield. "Alright... hubby. You're hurting me," she said, almost too calmly.

But her tone was flat, perfunctory.

Ethan could tell. Of course he could.

His eyes never left hers.

"Be at the villa tonight," his tone still icy.

"I can't," Clara frowned, thinking aloud. "Not this whole week."

"You-" Ethan's expression darkened.

"My mother's surgery is on Monday. I need to be with her at the rehab center," Clara stated clearly. "After what happened today, her emotional state is fragile. I can't risk anything happening to her."

She looked at him with sharp clarity. "If anything happens to her, this deal is off."

She said it plainly, but the threat behind her words was unmistakable.

Ethan was momentarily speechless.

He had always held control in this marriage, but now, he was no longer so sure.

After a long silence, his voice turned cold. "Do as you wish."

Then, he released her hand.

Clara said nothing. She turned and walked toward the door. Just as she reached it, she paused briefly.

"Don't worry. Until the baby is born, I'll keep playing the part of Mrs. Blackwood." Her tone was calm and steady. "Once the child arrives, we're finished."

With that, she gave a slight nod and walked out gracefully.

Ethan had begun to lower his guard, but her words snapped the tension back into place.

He stared at the now-closed door, then in a sudden burst of anger, swept everything off his desk.

Yanking at his collar, he tried to ease the tightness in his chest.

Just then, his phone rang-and just like that, his rage seemed to dissolve.

Clara, who had just stepped out, heard it too.

She didn't even need to look to know who it was-Fiona.

Over the years, she'd heard that ringtone enough times to recognize it instantly.

Ethan had set it specifically for Fiona.

The timing was bitterly ironic.

Still, Clara didn't hesitate.

And Ethan didn't go after her.

He stared at the caller ID, answered, but remained silent.

"Ethan." Fiona's voice came through, much steadier than before. "Thank you for earlier."

"Mm," he replied.

She was referring to when he took her to the hospital after her health scare.

"I was discharged today. Flying to Tokyo tomorrow for the movie premiere." Then, casually, she dropped the bomb: "I'm going alone."

"He's not accompanying you?" Ethan frowned, disapproval evident in his tone.

He hadn't expected her to return with her fiancé only to be left alone again.

"He's busy-always traveling for work." Fiona sounded almost dismissive, as if making excuses. "But he treats me well."

Ethan's eyes darkened, but he said nothing.

Then Fiona let out a soft sigh. "I just. suddenly missed you. So I called."

His grip on the phone tightened.

That one line-it got to him.

But outwardly, Ethan remained unreadable.

"Ethan," she continued, "will you come to Tokyo? I could use the company."

"Fiona, you have a fiancé. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to be there." His tone was cool and distant-a clear rejection.

She bit her lip. "So you're cutting me off now?"

"My wife wouldn't appreciate it," Ethan said calmly.

His long, slender fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the desk.

Fiona knew exactly which "wife" he meant.

But wait-weren't he and Clara divorced?

"Ethan, are you just saying this to upset me?" Fiona's voice trembled slightly.

But Ethan remained composed. "Am I? Fiona, you know what I wanted back then. But you kept pushing. You were always the one making the decisions. You're the one who walked away."

That silenced her.

"The divorce hasn't been finalized," Ethan added smoothly.

"You two." For the first time, Fiona sounded uncertain.

Then Ethan delivered the final blow: "She's pregnant. There's no need to file anything now."

Complete silence fell on both ends of the line.

After what felt like a long time, Fiona's calm voice returned. "Congratulations. Your grandfather must be overjoyed. I have to go now-my flight is waiting."

Without waiting for a response, she ended the call.

Ethan stared at his phone, his expression unreadable, but irritation was already resurfacing.

He didn't stay in the office. Grabbing his car keys, he left without another word.

.

Aurelux Sanatorium.

It had been years since Ethan had driven without a clear destination, yet somehow, he ended up here-at Clara's sanatorium. The realization unsettled him.

He had thought about chasing after Fiona.

But no-before merging onto the airport expressway, he turned the car around.

It was as if his body moved on autopilot, steering him straight to Aurelux.

Why?

Ethan didn't want to admit it, but he knew.

That woman, Clara, was stuck in his mind like a ghost he couldn't shake.

And right now, she was inside.

Brows furrowed, jaw tight, Ethan entered the facility.

The staff at Aurelux all knew him-after all, Blackwood Corp was its largest investor.

Naturally, no one stopped him.

But what he didn't expect was the scene that greeted him.

A tall man in a white coat-clearly a doctor, with a striking demeanor-was leaning close to Clara, saying something to her.

She looked up, smiling-a smile as bright as sunlight.

"Thank you, Dr. Griffith. I truly appreciate it. Looking forward to Monday," she said sincerely.

"It's no trouble," Nathaniel replied casually.

Just then, a nurse, distracted by her chart, pushed a cart straight toward them.

Clara gasped, and the nurse froze, but Nathaniel reacted quickly-wrapping an arm around Clara's waist to steady her.

"Careful," he said.

"Thank you," Clara murmured, still slightly shaken as she patted her chest.

Nathaniel didn't say more. He simply stepped aside, making way for the cart.

The nurse bowed repeatedly. "I'm so sorry, Miss Walton!"

"It's alright," Clara replied with a warm smile.

And then-the air turned cold.

A low, chilling voice cut through the moment. "Miss Walton?"

Clara's head snapped up.

Ethan stood there, his eyes locked on her, his expression icy.

The intensity of his stare made her scalp prickle.

The nurse stammered, clearly recognizing him. "M-Mr. Blackwood."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow but remained composed.

"I wasn't aware my wife was considered single," Ethan said coolly.

The room fell dead silent.

Clara looked stunned.

They had kept their marriage completely private. Beyond Dr. Chin and a few higher-ups, no one at Aurelux knew she was Mrs. Blackwood.

And now. Ethan had just announced it to the world?

Clara was at a loss, unsure how to respond.

Nathaniel glanced at her, his eyebrow still slightly raised.

Clara forced a small, awkward smile but offered no explanation.

"Come here," Ethan said, his voice sharp and cold.

Clara didn't move.

Instead, Nathaniel stepped in to ease the tension. "Go ahead. Call me if you need anything."

"Okay," Clara replied stiffly.

With that, Nathaniel walked away without another word. He didn't even glance at Ethan, heading straight back to his office.

In an instant, only Clara and Ethan remained in the hallway.

Ethan stood with one hand still in his pocket. "Do I need to drag you over here myself?"

It was a clear, final warning.

Clara drew a slow breath, unwilling to cause a scene. She moved toward him, but before she could get close, he pulled her firmly in front of him.

He loomed over her, radiating the same suffocating presence she knew all too well. Being near Ethan always felt intense, overwhelming.

"You're carrying my child and still have time to flirt around?" His voice was low and dark, his grip tightening on her wrist.

Clara exhaled calmly. "If that's what you consider flirting, then I suppose I have been."

Ethan let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Since when did you become so sharp-tongued?"

"Better late than never," she replied flatly.

She tried to step past him, eager to leave.

But as she brushed by, Ethan suddenly pulled her back. Before she could react, his arm wrapped around her waist-a mirror of Nathaniel's gesture earlier.

"Trying to provoke me?" he asked, leaning closer.

"I wouldn't dare," Clara said stiffly, prying herself loose. "My mother is waiting for dinner. If I'm late, she'll worry."

Linda had struggled with depression for years, on top of her brain tumor.

With surgery scheduled for Monday, keeping her calm was crucial.

The reason sounded justified. Ethan said nothing, only watched her.

Clara gave a slight nod and moved past him.

What she didn't expect was for Ethan to follow.

Now she was truly thrown. She had no idea what he was planning.

Even as they reached her mother's room, he showed no sign of stopping.

"What are you trying to do?" she finally snapped, blocking the door and eyeing him warily.

Ethan remained unbothered. "Can't I visit my mother-in-law?"

His tone was casual, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Clara was speechless.

That. was not something she ever expected to hear from him.

Their marriage had always been transactional-he wanted to provoke Fiona, she needed funds for her mother's treatment. They'd never gone public. Not even Linda knew they were married.

If she found out, it could shatter her.

Linda despised the Barringtons. She knew all about Ethan and Fiona's history.

If Ethan walked in now, all hell would break loose.

"No," Clara refused immediately. "My mother doesn't know we're married."

"So I'm your dirty secret?" His words carried a quiet threat.

Clara fell silent.

The look in Ethan's eyes sent a chill through her-she didn't dare argue further.

"I asked you a question." His long fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look up. It wasn't gentle.

Clara winced. "Ethan, we agreed-no going public."

"What did you call me?" he pressed.

Clara's voice went dry. ".Husband."

Clara Walton knew when to yield. When softness worked, she wouldn't push back.

She kept her tone gentle, almost coaxing. "My mother can't handle any shocks right now. Can we wait until after her surgery to discuss this?"

Her eyes were clear and pleading, though emotionless beneath the surface.

When Ethan didn't respond, Clara reached for his hand, stood on her toes, and gave him a quick, soft kiss. "Please."

Ethan had always been vulnerable to this side of her. She knew it well.

She felt his anger easing, his tension visibly dropping.

But his gaze remained dark, fixed on her. "I'll wait until next week," he said flatly.

Clara breathed a quiet "Okay."

From inside the room, Linda's voice called out. Clara didn't hesitate. She turned without another glance at Ethan and hurried inside.

.

7 p.m.

Clara had stalled until she was sure Ethan had left. Only then did she finally step out of the room.

Linda was fast asleep.

Clara was starving.

Her stomach growled loudly-a protest from the little one inside.

But to her surprise-

Ethan was still there, leaning casually against the wall, waiting.

The moment she emerged, he looked over. "If you'd taken any longer, I would've gone in and dragged you out."

Clara blinked. ".You're still here?"

Ethan didn't flinch. "Is it so strange to wait for my wife?"

His words unexpectedly brushed against her heart. Before she could react, he took her hand, calm and natural.

She froze.

In all their years of "marriage," Ethan had never held her hand like this. All his tenderness had always been reserved for Fiona Barrington.

All Clara ever received was passion behind closed doors.

She knew the truth-Ethan only saw Fiona's shadow in her. She was just a stand-in.

And now-

Clara looked up at him. "You're not pretending I'm Fiona, are you?"

Ethan frowned, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, Clara thought he wouldn't answer.

Then, in a low, calm voice, he said, "I can still tell you apart from Fiona. I just don't want my child going hungry. That's all."

The chill in his tone had returned.

They reached the car, and Ethan released her hand.

Clara was silent for a beat, then chuckled softly. "So this baby is what finally gives me value, huh?"

There was a faint bitterness in her voice.

Ethan didn't respond. He opened the door for her, then circled to the driver's side and pulled away from the hospital.

The drive was quiet.

Dinner was equally awkward and silent.

.

After the meal, Ethan drove Clara back to the rehab center.

In the elevator, he received a call from Lucy Hampton-an urgent company matter.

Clara was almost relieved.

But then-

With a loud thud, the elevator shuddered violently, and the lights went out.

Clara let out a sharp cry, dropping into a crouch, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She was terrified of the dark. And she was claustrophobic.

"Clara." Ethan reacted instantly.

He ended the call.

Pulling her into his arms, his voice was low and steady. "I'm right here. Don't be afraid."