Chapter 4

Clara froze for a moment. “…” But she wasn’t one to back down. Just as Ethan reached for the phone, she tapped the answer button. On cue, Fiona’s voice came through—soft and fragile: “Ethan? Where are you? I’m not feeling well.” Ethan’s expression remained unreadable. He was about to respond when Clara suddenly grabbed his collar and pressed her lips boldly against his, silencing him completely. His brows furrowed, his grip tightening around her waist. It hurt—but Clara didn’t let up. After three years of marriage, she knew exactly how to provoke him. If he had the nerve to play games, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She was determined to push him until he broke. And with someone like Fiona—sensitive and prone to overthinking—even the slightest hint of doubt could ignite a fire. Exactly the reaction Clara was counting on. Sure enough, the soft, unmistakable sound of a kiss traveled faintly through the phone. Fiona went completely silent on the other end. Her voice turned unsteady: “Ethan…? Are you there? Can you hear me?” Ethan tried to pull back, but Clara held on relentlessly until he finally cursed under his breath and ended the call. The next instant, he was pulling her firmly into the dimly lit stairwell. The atmosphere shifted instantly. Clara felt a surge of regret—she’d lit a fuse she couldn’t control. The darkness in Ethan’s eyes was genuinely frightening. This wasn’t some luxury high-rise; people came and went constantly. Anyone could stumble upon them, hear them on the stairs. Panic set in. But Ethan showed no intention of stopping. “Start something and think you can just walk away? Dream on.” His voice was low, each word cutting. The moment Clara tried to slip from his grasp, he stopped her, swift and decisive. Then… everything spiraled. In all their years together, it had never been like this—raw, overwhelming, leaving them both shaken. Clara couldn’t even recall how she made it back into her apartment. Her mind had gone blank. Their coats lay discarded on the worn wooden floor. A tie hung loosely over the arm of the sofa. Here and there, pieces of clothing lay in disarray. Ethan had always been controlled—even in intimacy, he held back. But not tonight. Tonight felt different—like he was trying to prove something. Every move was possessive, almost desperate. “Mm…” Clara stifled a sound. He was rough. Her back hit the wall hard, a sharp pain shooting up her spine. Her vision blurred slightly. And he didn’t let up. As the intensity mounted, Clara grew pale. A cold, sharp pain twisted deep in her lower abdomen. Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden. She pressed a weak hand against his chest. “Ethan… stop…” He glanced down at her, his gaze unreadable. Instead of pulling back, he pressed further, almost frantic. Clara bit her lip hard. She was pregnant—but she couldn’t tell him. She didn’t want to be trapped again. But if this continued, she wasn’t sure she or the baby would be okay. Clara’s thoughts were scattering. She couldn’t tell anymore what was pain and what was overwhelm—her body went weak, every breath an effort. Ethan finally brought that silent struggle to an end. Clara forced herself upright, fighting back the throbbing ache in her abdomen. Glaring at him, she snapped, “Get out!” Ethan didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure if he felt satisfaction or deepening frustration. He knew he shouldn’t keep complicating things between them, but every time he saw Clara, something in him took over. And that only irritated him more. He stood and dressed quickly while Clara remained curled on the bed, barely moving. The pain in her stomach grew sharper. Then, in the aftermath of Ethan’s recklessness, she felt a damp, warm trickle between her legs. Her face lost all color in an instant. Just then, Ethan—now fully dressed—turned back, about to speak. But the moment he saw how pale she was, his brow furrowed deeply. He strode back to her immediately. “Why do you look so pale?” Physically, they’d always been compatible, no matter how strained things were between them. But this time, Ethan had sensed her resistance—he just hadn’t cared. He’d wanted to dominate, to force her surrender. She didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed his hand away—then froze. Ethan’s expression shifted too. He saw it—blood on the sheets. “It’s my period,” Clara said, forcing her voice to steadiness, hoping that would be the end of it. Ethan simply stared, unmoving. Just as she thought she’d convinced him, he suddenly scooped her into his arms. Clara’s eyes widened in disbelief. Ethan’s face was like stone, his jaw tight. His voice came out low and intense: “Clara, you’d better not be hiding anything from me.” This time, she stayed silent. Ethan held her firmly and carried her straight out of the apartment. She didn’t resist—not out of fear, but exhaustion. She felt utterly drained. She’d already decided to end the pregnancy—she just hadn’t expected it to happen like this. Ethan placed her gently in the car, his movements efficient. He started the engine, reversed smoothly, and sped toward Aurelux Hospital. On the way, he made a call, instructing the hospital to have their top OB-GYN ready. Clara knew then—he’d figured it out. As the worst of the pain subsided, her mind cleared. She spoke calmly: “Tell the doctor to prepare the operating room. I never intended to keep this baby. You don’t need to worry—there’ll be no Blackwood heir complicating your life.” After all, no ex-husband wants his former wife pregnant. And no woman wants her partner tied to his ex because of a child. Especially not someone like Fiona Barrington. “Be quiet,” Ethan growled, his voice low with anger. Clara actually fell silent. Truth be told, she felt miserable. The black Range Rover cut through the night, halving the usual travel time to Aurelux Hospital. Medical staff were already waiting. …