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."

Clara Walton clutched Ethan Blackwood's shirt with both hands, her knuckles white, the fabric wrinkled under her desperate grip.

She was stiff with fear-even wrapped in his arms, she couldn't relax.

Ethan looked down, his eyes now adjusted to the dark. He could see Clara's tear-streaked face, her cheeks pale and wet with silent sobs.

"Don't cry. I'm right here," he said, his voice low and surprisingly gentle.

But Clara didn't stop. Her soft cries grew more pitiful, like a wronged kitten with nowhere else to turn.

The sound tugged at something deep in Ethan's chest-concern mixed with something unfamiliar. He'd never seen Clara like this.

"Stop crying," he repeated, this time with a slight edge.

Startled, Clara looked up. Her tear-filled eyes shimmered in the dimness, heartbreakingly fragile.

Seeing her like that made Ethan feel almost cruel.

"I said stop crying." His voice dropped again.

And just like that, she broke.

Ethan swallowed hard, sighed quietly, then leaned in and captured her lips with his.

The sudden kiss swallowed everything-her sobs, her panic, all of it vanished like smoke.

In that dark elevator, Ethan was her only anchor.

She clung to his arm as if he were her lifeline, responding with a desperation she'd never shown before.

His breathing grew heavier.

In such a confined space, the heat between them quickly took over.

What had been tension now snapped-chaos took hold.

They were like two trapped souls, every touch igniting something fierce.

Yet Ethan hadn't completely lost control.

But in Clara's mind, this wild moment felt like a twisted kind of balance-one she didn't want to let go of.

"Clara." Ethan breathed, barely managing her name.

Before he could finish, Clara pulled him closer again.

He gripped her waist, his eyes darkening. "You're really trying to test me right now?"

Clara only let out a soft, dazed sound.

Then, suddenly, the elevator lights flickered back on, and Ethan's phone rang.

Clara blinked in the brightness, looking disoriented.

When she realized how closely she was pressed against Ethan, her face flushed with embarrassment.

And echoing through the lit space was that familiar ringtone-Fiona Barrington.

That snapped Clara back to reality instantly. She quickly stepped back, trying to steady her breathing.

Her heart was racing, almost painfully.

Ethan glanced at his phone and casually released her.

Clara kept her expression neutral, and Ethan didn't bother hiding anything-he answered the call as if nothing had happened.

"Ethan, am I interrupting something?" Fiona's soft voice came through.

His breathing was still uneven. "No."

Fiona noticed but kept her tone smooth. "I'm having dinner tonight to discuss a film project. I believe you know him-care to join us?"

Classic Fiona-surface-level courtesy with the door left wide open.

That was her game.

Ethan didn't immediately agree.

Clara lowered her gaze, a bitter smile forming. It wouldn't be the first time she felt like a joke.

But in that moment, something rebellious stirred inside her-she didn't want Fiona to win so easily.

So she reached out, her fingers lightly curling around Ethan's.

He noticed immediately and glanced down at her as if asking what she was doing.

Then Clara's voice came through the speaker, soft and deliberately sweet:

"Babe, I'm still a little scared of the dark. Stay with me tonight, okay?"

Her cheeks were still flushed from crying, and that soft, pleading tone was borderline lethal.

It could melt anyone on the spot.

Ethan's eyes darkened as he watched her. He knew this wasn't accidental-he wasn't that oblivious.

And sure enough, a sharp intake of breath came from the other end.

"I. am I interrupting something?" Fiona's voice suddenly wavered, as if she might cry.

Clara stayed perfectly still.

She wanted to see what Ethan would do.

Before, the outcome would've been obvious-Ethan would've gone to Fiona.

But this time. what he said next completely threw her.

He didn't deny it. Just said flatly, "Yeah. You kind of are."

There was a pause. Then a flustered, rushed reply: "I'm sorry. I'll go by myself. Sorry for bothering you."

Click.

Fiona hung up.

Clara began to calm down.

She'd definitely overreacted-gone full impulsive. She'd actually tried to mess with Fiona right in front of Ethan.

And before, she'd always hidden that side of herself.

She braced herself for Ethan to criticize her.

But instead-he simply took her hand. It caught her completely off guard.

Just then, the elevator doors slid open, finally operational. The staff outside looked like they were about to faint when they saw who was inside.

"M-Mr. Blackwood." one stammered, visibly shaking.

Ethan didn't even flinch. He gave them a cold look and walked out, pulling Clara along with him.

She nearly stumbled, and he steadied her without breaking stride.

"Aurelux can't even maintain basic emergency lighting?" His voice turned icy, full CEO mode. "This better not happen again."

"Yes, sir," the staff replied in unison, standing at attention as if facing dismissal.

They wanted to explain it wasn't their fault but didn't dare.

I mean, what were the odds of Ethan Blackwood getting stuck in their elevator?

Worse than winning the lottery.

Clara bit her lip absently. Then Ethan's voice dropped again, low and firm:

"My wife is afraid of the dark. I don't want her frightened like this again."

"Yes, sir," came the immediate, hushed reply.

Clara didn't react much, but her fingers curled slightly.

He. actually said that for her?

But the real surprise?

She'd just humiliated Fiona. She'd heard the hurt in Fiona's voice.

And Ethan didn't even scold her for it?

-

Once outside, Clara had fully composed herself.

She stopped walking, and Ethan paused beside her, watching her.

"Thank you," she said after a moment, biting her lip slightly.

She didn't mention anything else.

Remembering what happened in the elevator, her ears grew warm.

Ethan kept his gaze on her, unreadable, then suddenly found her shy expression somewhat endearing.

Far better than the overly polished façade she usually wore.

But then, Clara spoke again-and what she said next completely shattered the mood.

"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?