Chapter 3

A month had passed since the divorce—or what Clara believed was a divorce—and not once had Ethan Blackwood appeared before her. “Come here,” Ethan commanded, his voice sharp, his gaze locking onto Clara as if he expected immediate compliance. Clara didn’t move. She remained rooted where she stood. Truth be told, the fact that she hadn’t already walked away was a testament to her self-control. She was no one’s pet, summoned at will. What gave him the right? “Clara, I said come here,” he repeated, this time loading her name with clear warning. That finally drew a response. “Mr. Blackwood, we are divorced. You don’t get to order me around anymore. If you have something to say, say it from there.” A clean, cold refusal. She wasn’t just saying no—she was making sure he felt it. From what Clara remembered, Ethan hated nothing more than being defied. Under normal circumstances, he would have turned and left in cold anger rather than prolong the confrontation. But she had underestimated him. Calmly, Ethan stubbed out his cigarette and began walking toward her—each step slow, deliberate, cutting through the tension of the night. His figure drew closer, imposing and intense. Clara instinctively took one step back, then held her ground. “Clara, since when do you mess around with other men?” The words shot out of him like an accusation, dripping with something that sounded almost like jealousy. When Clara had smiled at that man earlier, it had transformed her entire expression—like sunlight piercing through clouds. Ethan barely recognized her. Throughout their marriage, her smiles had been polite, distant, never quite reaching her eyes. But tonight she seemed… different. Vibrant. And that version of her was meant for someone else. The more Ethan dwelled on it, the more unsettled he became. Had it all been an act those three years? Clara, meanwhile, met his gaze with an air of pure innocence. “Mr. Blackwood, we’re divorced. Am I not allowed to see other people? You already have your first love hanging on your arm.” She raised a brow. “Does Miss Barrington know you’re here with me? Should I give her a call and let her know?” With that, she actually reached for her phone. But before she could unlock it, Ethan snatched it from her hand. His voice turned to ice. “Clara. That divorce only exists in your head.” She stared, caught off guard. How could a divorce be “in her head”? They had signed the agreement—hadn’t they? Before she could gather her thoughts, Ethan clarified, “I never signed it. Legally, we’re still married. Which means you are not free to see other people.” Clara: “…” Wait—what? Hadn’t he been the one eager to finalize everything? With Fiona back, shouldn’t he have been in a hurry to move on? The tabloids were full of photos of them together—rumors of cohabitation and reconciliation. Clara had truly believed she was free of that tangled mess. But no. Ethan had chosen now to pull the rug out from under her. He never signed? Was he serious? “The press may not know you’re still Mrs. Blackwood, but my family does,” he said, looming over her as though he held all the moral authority. “If this gets out and my grandfather hears of it, how do you plan to explain yourself? I won’t be made the fool whose wife is openly seeing other men.” Ethan’s tone grew even sharper, edged with something dark. “Whose car were you in earlier?” He clearly had no intention of letting this go. His long fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her abruptly toward him. Off-balance, Clara stumbled, nearly colliding with his chest. All she could smell was the faint mix of tobacco and a familiar perfume—Fiona’s signature scent. Clara snapped back to her senses instantly. With a cold laugh, she pushed him away without hesitation. “Oh? Does Miss Barrington know you’re still legally tied to me?” “Are you threatening me?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed. Clara nodded, utterly serious. “Yes. Why not keep this simple? You sign the papers, we file at the registry, and you’re free. No threats, no fuss. Isn’t that what you wanted?” She couldn’t imagine being a more accommodating ex-wife—she was even making it easier for him to be with someone else. She hadn’t even brought up the child they’d had during the marriage. Really, Ethan ought to know when to quit. Even a cornered rabbit will bite. Her attitude, however, only seemed to provoke him further. Ethan had never seen her like this—defiant, assured, utterly beyond his reach. Throughout their three-year marriage, Clara had always been gentle and accommodating. She never argued, never set clear boundaries, so he had constantly tested her limits. But Clara had been like a perfectly tempered spring—always rebounding, never breaking. Back then, Ethan had really believed he was her entire world. Now, it felt like she was slapping him in the face with the truth. His expression darkened. In one swift motion, he gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. She frowned, her face full of defiance. “Clara, were you in such a hurry to divorce me because of that man today?” Ethan demanded. “Yes,” Clara shot back without hesitation. “So don’t get in the way of my happiness.” “Does he know you were married?” Ethan’s grip tightened slightly. “Of course. He even knows I’m divorced,” she replied coolly. Ethan was taken aback by her bluntness— rendered speechless. He could only glare at her, the air between them growing colder by the second. Then, suddenly, his phone rang. Without a moment’s hesitation, Clara reached into the pocket of his suit pants and pulled out the phone. To Ethan, the gesture was utterly audacious. The slight brush of her fingers through the fabric sent a jolt of heat straight through him—rising from his toes and coiling low in his abdomen. Just like that, the possessiveness in his eyes broke loose. Then came Clara’s voice, dripping with casual indifference: “It’s your precious Fiona. Should I answer it for you?” It was a direct challenge. Sure enough, the screen displayed Fiona Barrington’s name. Fiona was the clingy type. The moment she lost sight of Ethan, she’d spiral—calling relentlessly until she found him. Clara, on the other hand, treated him as if he were air. No matter where he went or what he did, she simply didn’t care. “Answer it,” Ethan said, his eyes still locked on Clara.