Chapter 6

Clara's POV

The evening I returned from the cottage, I pulled an old artifact from my bag.

The hand-stitched leather notebook cover.

Julian had crafted it himself when he first courted me; its corners were frayed, the tan leather weathered and faded.

It was the only keepsake I had spared from the fireplace.

I placed it gently on the dining table, sliding it across to him.

"Julian... do you think love ever fades?"

Julian picked up the worn leather cover, examined the clumsy stitching, looked up at me, and let out a warm laugh.

"Where did this question come from all of a sudden?"

"Just answer me. Does it?"

"Never," he answered without a heartbeat of hesitation, reaching out to envelop my cold fingers in his warm grip. "Clara, what I feel for you is identical to the day we first fell in love. It will never change."

He looked at me with such raw, unblemished sincerity that, had I not stood outside that cottage bathroom hours earlier, I would have fallen for it all over again.

I gently slid my hand out of his grasp, offering a faint smile, and kept quiet.

Lying beside his sleeping form that night, staring at his serene profile under the moonlight, a cold resolve hardened in my chest.

I had changed my mind.

I was no longer going to let him believe my departure was a tragic accident.

I wanted blood.

I wanted him to believe that his own lies and betrayal drove his wife and unborn child to their deaths. I wanted him to drown in incurable guilt and agony for the rest of his miserable life.

The next morning, I tucked an encrypted thumb drive into the glove compartment of his primary Maybach.

On that drive were scanned copies of my emergency termination records, along with every piece of audio, video, and photographic proof Vanessa had ever sent me.

I shot him a quick text:

I left a surprise in your glove box. Don't open it until three days from now. Wait for me to come back so we can celebrate our anniversary.

Julian instantly replied with: Understood, my queen ❤️.

In three days, it would be our third wedding anniversary.

On the morning of my departure, Julian insisted on driving me to the private airfield.

"No need," I shook my head softly. "I want some quiet time alone. Let the family chauffeur take me."

"Clara..." He frowned, an uncharacteristic unease flickering in his eyes. "You've been acting distant lately. Is something bothering you?"

"What could possibly be bothering me?" I smiled warmly, stepping forward to adjust the lapels of his suit jacket. "I'm just mentally drained from the recent PR pitches and need some mountain air. I'll be back right on time for our anniversary dinner, okay?"

He hesitated, but ultimately relented, leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"Alright. Drive carefully. Call me the minute you check into the lodge."

I grabbed my carry-on and walked to the penthouse threshold. Just before stepping out, I turned back to look at him one last time.

"Julian."

"Yeah?"

"Never again."

I whispered the words so softly they dissolved into the air. Then I stepped out, and the heavy double doors clicked shut behind me.

Julian's POV

I stood in the vast silence of the penthouse foyer, watching the closed door, an icy dread creeping up my spine for reasons I couldn't fathom.

I almost moved to chase after her, but my phone buzzed in my pocket.

A picture from Vanessa.

In the photo, Vanessa was lounging against the silk pillows of our master bed, draped in Clara's favorite silk robe, smirking brazenly at the lens.

Caption: She's gone, right? I'm waiting in your bed.

Looking at that photo, my breath caught in my throat. The faint prickle of anxiety in my chest was instantly obliterated by a surge of lust.

I shoved the phone into my slacks and took the stairs two at a time toward the master suite.

Whatever unease I had felt vanished under Vanessa's intoxicating gaze.

If Clara was away for three days, it worked out even better.

An hour later, tangled in the sheets with Vanessa, my phone on the nightstand shrieked with an emergency tone.

An unlisted state trooper line.

Annoyed, I swiped to answer. "Sterling speaking."

"Mr. Julian Sterling? This is the State Highway Patrol. We are calling regarding a catastrophic incident on the northern mountain pass. A vehicle registered to your corporate fleet crashed through the guardrails and plummeted off a ninety-foot gorge. We recovered Mrs. Clara Sterling's driver's license, cell phone, and heavily blood-stained belongings from the burning wreckage... Due to the post-crash fire and the river rapids below, her body has not yet been recovered..."

The phone slipped through my paralyzed fingers, crashing against the floor and splintering the glass screen into a spiderweb of cracks.

My vision went white. I stood frozen in place, unable to take a single breath.