Chapter 69

Ethan Blackwood was practically fuming at Clara Walton’s calm indifference. Out of nowhere, Ethan slammed the brakes, the car screeched to a stop at the side of the road. The sudden halt was sharp, but the car settled so smoothly that Clara didn’t even jolt. She frowned slightly. Ethan’s hand shot out, gripping her chin, voice low with anger: “Do you really think I can’t do anything to Nathaniel Griffith?” Clara’s head tilted up under his grip. She stayed cool, her tone light, “Sure, maybe you could. But the Griffiths won’t just let you mess around.” “Hah.” Ethan let out a short, dry laugh. “Getting bold, aren’t you? Clara, have you forgotten your place?” “You mean playing Mrs. Blackwood?” Clara gave a soft snort. “Then tell me, Ethan, have you ever acted like a proper husband?” There was no heat in her tone, just that casual sarcasm. His grip was tight enough to hurt, her jaw ached—but Clara didn’t resist. She just stared back at him, calm and unmoved. Silence fell. Ethan pressed his