Chapter 5

Clara's POV

Leaving the grand ballroom behind, I ducked into a secluded mezzanine lounge near the fire exits.

I sank onto a leather sofa, my hands shaking so violently I couldn't hold my water glass steady. Just as I lifted it to my lips, familiar voices echoed from the adjoining corridor.

Julian and his younger sister, Valerie, were walking toward the lounge, unaware anyone was sitting in the dimly lit corner.

"Julian, what is your endgame here?" Valerie's voice was sharp with exasperation. "Vanessa has the twins, but you refuse to let Clara go. You can't juggle two households forever!"

Julian stayed silent for several beats before letting out a ragged sigh.

"I don't know," his voice sounded hollow with fatigue. "I love Clara. That has never changed. But Vanessa and the kids... I can't just abandon my own blood."

"So what? You expect to live a double life until you're in the grave?"

"We'll take it one day at a time," he muttered. "I can manage Clara. She's gentle. If I shower her with enough attention and buy her what she wants, she won't cause a scene. But the twins need a father; I can't leave them out in the cold."

Valerie was about to snap back when she suddenly remembered something, lowering her voice to an anxious whisper.

"By the way, Adrian is flying back into the country this week. You know that, right?"

"Adrian Sterling?" Julian’s footsteps halted. "What is he doing back here?"

"Word is he's personally overseeing a massive private equity acquisition," Valerie warned nervously. "Julian, you know how ruthless Adrian is. He despises internal family scandals. You’d better keep Vanessa and those kids tucked far out of sight. If he finds out you're running a secret second family, he will strip your voting rights without blinking."

"Understood," Julian’s tone turned dead serious. "Keep your mouth shut to everyone."

"I'm not stupid."

Their footsteps receded down the hall.

Sitting frozen on the leather sofa, the crystal tumbler slipped through my numb fingers.

Smash.

The glass shattered against the hardwood floor. My strength evaporated completely, and I crumpled sideways off the couch, the world fading into pitch blackness.

When I woke up, I was lying in a luxury hotel suite.

A man sat in a sleek armchair beside the bed, dressed in a charcoal bespoke suit, radiating an aura of lethal, aristocratic authority. He was calmly scrolling through a tablet.

Hearing the sheets rustle, he looked up.

"You're awake."

I blinked against the soft lamp light, recognizing the sharp contours of his face immediately.

Adrian Sterling.

Julian’s uncle. Though he held the seniority of an elder, he was barely two years older than Julian, having spent the last decade commanding the family’s overseas hedge funds. I had only met him once, briefly, at our wedding.

"How... why am I here?" I struggled to push myself upright, my head spinning violently.

"You collapsed by the fire stairs. I happened to be passing by," Adrian said, handing me a glass of warm water. "A private physician checked you over. Extreme exhaustion combined with severe emotional trauma. Nothing fatal."

He paused, his piercing slate-gray eyes locking onto my face.

"The doctor also noted that you recently underwent an emergency uterine procedure. Your body is running on empty. You need bed rest."

My hand jerked violently, sloshing water over the crisp white duvet.

I stared at him, my throat constricting until I could barely squeak out a syllable.

"Don't worry," Adrian said, his voice deep and remarkably calm. "I haven't told a soul. Julian has no idea you collapsed, nor does he know about the miscarriage."

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at this intimidating man, pleading with everything I had left:

"Mr. Sterling, I am begging you for one favor."

"Name it."

"Do not tell Julian about the lost baby," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please. Keep it between us."

Adrian watched my tear-stained face in total silence for a long time before giving a firm nod.

"You have my word. I won't say a thing."

"Thank you."

When I finally returned to the penthouse late that evening, Julian was pacing the foyer.

The moment I stepped inside, he rushed over, holding a glossy shopping bag.

"Clara! Where have you been? I've been calling your phone all afternoon!" He thrust the bag into my hands, his face lit with eagerness. "I picked up that luxury skincare set you mentioned last month. The brand manager held the exclusive vault reserve just for you."

I pulled out the ornate gold container.

The exact same brand. The exact same collection. The exact same limited-edition formula.

Identical to the gift set Vanessa had been bragging about to the high-society ladies at her gala hours earlier.

Looking at the gilded box, an involuntary laugh bubbled out of my chest, tears instantly spilling down my cheeks.

"What's funny?" Julian blinked, utterly bewildered. "Do you not like it?"

"I love it," I wiped my eyes, tossing the bag onto the console table. "I love it to death."

The following afternoon, I mentioned I wanted to drive out to our countryside cottage.

It was a secluded lakeside property we had bought right after our honeymoon, complete with a private garden. We used to spend our weekends there—I would draft PR campaign briefs in the sunroom while he read economic journals beside me.

Hearing my plan, Julian’s eyes flickered with sudden panic.

"Today? HQ is swamped today, baby. Let me clear my schedule and take you this weekend, okay?"

"No need to escort me, I just want to grab a few archived portfolios," I replied, staring straight into his eyes. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

He stared at me intently for two seconds before yielding.

"Fine. Drive safe."

I drove an hour out to the country cottage alone.

The moment I pushed the heavy oak door open, the breath caught in my throat.

The entire sanctuary had been completely overhauled.

My minimalist linen drapes were replaced with bright pink velvet. My vintage drafting desk had been shoved into a dark corner, buried under mounds of plastic toddler toys.

The living room walls were covered in cartoon decals, and miniature plush pillows were strewn across our designer sectional.

My leather portfolio binders had been unceremoniously dumped into a damp cardboard box in the corner, with a filthy stuffed bunny crushed on top.

I stood frozen in the center of the room, my fingernails digging into my palms until they drew blood.

I walked upstairs to collect my original property deeds. The second I pushed the master bedroom door open, my feet froze.

On the nightstand sat a sterling silver frame.

In the photograph, Julian had the twins wrapped in his arms while Vanessa leaned her head affectionately against his shoulder, all four of them beaming at the camera.

The backdrop was the sun-drenched lawn of this very cottage.

The timestamp in the corner read: Last Summer.

Last summer, when he swore he was trapped in mandatory corporate antitrust depositions and couldn't join me for our getaway, he was playing happy family right here with Vanessa.

I stared at that silver frame for what felt like an eternity.

Suddenly, the front door downstairs clicked open.

Thinking Julian had followed me, I turned to head down, but a woman’s playful voice drifted up the staircase.

It was Vanessa.

"Slow down, handsome, you're going to trip me!"

Then came Julian’s voice, thick with raw affection:

"I've got you, gorgeous. Where are the babies?"

"Passed out in their car seats. The nanny is watching them."

Their hurried footsteps echoed across the hardwood, followed by the heavy slam of the downstairs bathroom door.

Standing frozen on the second-floor landing, the sounds from below filtered through the vents with horrifying clarity.

The hiss of the shower turning on. Then, muffled moans and desperate gasps that the thick wooden door couldn't contain.

There was nowhere to run.

On countless nights, he had held me against the sheets, whispering eternal promises into my ear in that exact same husky timbre.

Now, he was using that exact same breath, performing that exact same act, inside another woman.

Inside the very sanctuary I thought belonged exclusively to us.

I leaned my back against the wall and slowly slid to the cold floor.

Memories of my childhood surged back like bile.

My mother, a broken woman trapped in an isolated mining town. My father, an abusive, violent drunk who took his rage out on us whenever he touched a bottle.

At thirteen, I orchestrated my own escape, helped put my monster of a father behind bars, legally changed my name, and fought tooth and nail from that forgotten corner of the world to this glittering metropolis.

Nobody knew the scars I carried.

My heart had turned into impenetrable permafrost years ago.

It was Julian who had painstakingly melted the ice around my soul.

Waiting outside my office in the snow for three months. Risking his inheritance to stand at the altar with me. Holding me close whenever night terrors woke me in cold sweats, whispering, Don't be afraid, I'm here.

I genuinely believed I had finally found my guardian.

I thought my scarred heart had finally found a home.

It was all an illusion.

The warmth he used to thaw my frozen heart was being distributed to another woman all along.

I was never his only one.

Curled up on the floor, listening to the muffled intimacy rising from the floorboards below, my face went entirely blank.

My tears had run dry long ago.