Chapter 5

"Thanks a lot, Mr. Collins!" Brianna giggled flirtatiously, swaying her slim waist as she leaned in close to Eugene, her fingers boldly trailing up his chest. Her voice dripped with sickly sweetness. "So, Mr. Collins, wanna give me a hand?" Eugene gave a lazy smirk, his hand sliding down her waist and giving her a light slap on the rear. "Little troublemaker." Brianna responded with a sultry smile, completely ignoring Clara standing just a few steps away, clinging to her husband like no one else existed. Clara knew exactly who this woman was—Brianna Mitchell, the rising star everyone was raving about. Stunning features, tall with killer curves, and that thigh—high slit dress showing off her flawless legs—she was every bit the seductress people whispered about. Clara stood frozen. It felt like she couldn't breathe, as if the air around her was stuffed with cotton. Her eyes burned as tears welled up uncontrollably. Her hand trembled, and the dress box slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp thud. "Oh? You're still here?" Brianna finally turned to look at Clara, her tone slow and full of smugness. Her gaze carried the kind of contempt that made Clara's chest ache. Everyone knew Clara was both the founder of Amarielle and Eugene's legally wedded wife. But also, everyone knew Eugene couldn't stand his wife. Brianna smiled sweetly, looping her arm around Eugene's, nuzzling up to his shoulder as she whispered suggestively in his ear, "Your wife's here too? Should I... give you two some space?" Eugene's cold, amused eyes landed on Clara. Something unreadable flickered in them before he gave a faint smirk and casually pulled Brianna even closer. "Ignore her. Go try it on. Or do you want me to help you change into it myself?" His fingers brushed Brianna's cheek then trailed down to her collarbone, nearly dipping lower. Clara's mind went completely blank. She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails cut into her palms. Bending down, she picked the box off the floor and stepped up to Brianna, forcing out the words despite her shaking voice. "Ms. Mitchell, here's the dress you ordered." Brianna shot her a brief, dismissive glance and took the box with a mocking smile. "Thanks so much, Mrs. Collins." Still holding it together despite all this? Impressive, really. "You're welcome... But could you maybe let go of my husband's hand now?" "Your husband? Hah... Mr. Collins, your wife's got quite the temper! I'm shaking!" Brianna patted her chest dramatically, then leaned into Eugene's arms like some helpless little thing, her high—slit dress flashing a smooth leg that barely brushed against his thigh. "Clara, do you really think you're in a position to question me? And you scared Miss Mitchell. Apologize," Eugene said, voice low and cold, his eyes filled with mocking disdain. Clara's fists tightened as she tried to keep herself from crying. Her whole body was trembling. She swallowed the tears back and forced herself to say softly, "Eugene, I'm your wife. Why wouldn't I have the right? Just... don't do this kind of thing in front of me, please. Don't humiliate me like this." A sadness welled up in Clara's heart. She really wanted to say to Eugene, 'my heart's not made of stone. I can feel pain too.' "You started this the moment you had the delusion of being Mrs. Collins. Humiliated? You brought this on yourself," Eugene's words cut through the air cruelly, each one sharp as a blade. Clara staggered, almost collapsing on the spot as his cold voice echoed in her ears. Every syllable drove into her chest like a knife—tiny but deep, and it tore at her. "Don't be mad, Mr. Collins! She's not even worth it!" Brianna giggled, tossing her hair back and wrapping herself even tighter around him, full of smug satisfaction. "What's with that face, Clara? You look like someone just told you the world's ending. If you're really thinking of offing yourself, just hurry up and do it. Don't hang around and get in the way." With that, Eugene disappeared into the next room with Brianna in tow. The door slammed shut, locking them away in their own world. Ten years of loving him. Five years of marriage. And still, in his heart, she meant absolutely nothing. Clara blinked back tears, shoulders tight, and walked out of the house like a shell of herself. She got in her car, hands trembling as she gripped the wheel and pressed down on the accelerator without thinking. It wasn't until angry horns blared in her ears that she came back to her senses—the car had drifted over the solid line into the oncoming lane. A Hummer barreled straight at her, furious and fast, like it was ready to flatten her. "If you're really thinking of dying, just hurry up and do it." That line kept replaying in her mind over and over, like poison spreading through her veins. Clara slowly closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her face, but a faint, almost relieved smile crept onto her lips. Maybe if she died, the pain would finally stop. Maybe then, she could forget Eugene once and for all.