Clara had just stepped out of the Sterling residence when the night wind hit her, cold enough to make her shiver.
Footsteps hurried up behind her. She didn't turn. She already knew who it was.
Her wrist was seized suddenly, the grip firm and familiar.
Julian's voice came low, edged with anger. "Clara, you're just leaving like that? You're going to leave Vivian there by herself?"
Clara turned slowly to face him.
Under the streetlight, he still looked as composed as ever, but his eyes were full of blame, as if she had done something unforgivable.
"So?" she asked softly. "You think I should've stayed?"
"She just took a slap for you. She looked ashen, and you walked out without saying a word?" Julian's tone carried unmistakable disappointment. "I always thought you were just rigid, Clara. I didn't expect you to lack even basic decency."
Clara looked at him quietly, then suddenly smiled.
It was a faint smile, but it cut through every layer of pretense like a blade.
"Aren't you there for her?" she asked. "Aren't you the one who comforts her, takes care of her, gives her everything she wants? What would I, an outsider, be doing staying?"
Julian's pupils contracted.
He could tell. She knew.
But instead of panicking, he frowned, irritation creeping into his voice. "What are you overthinking now? There's nothing going on between me and Vivian. Stop imagining things."
"Nothing going on?" Clara repeated softly, as if tasting something absurd. "Then what I saw at the hospital… you holding her like that… I imagined it?"
Julian fell silent for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. "You were following me? When did you become so… vicious, Clara?"
"Vicious?" Clara looked at him, feeling as if a dull blade were carving into her chest. "I'm the vicious one? Julian, if you didn't love me, you could've just said so. I didn't beg you to remarry me. I didn't force her to leave you. You love each other, but you don't have the courage to stand against your families. So you hide behind this story of 'sacrificing for me' just to feed your act of devotion and her act of kindness. You treat me like a fool, comforting me, lying to me, using my feelings as a stepping stone for your love."
Her voice remained steady, but the pain in her eyes was impossible to hide, the corners already tinged red.
Julian scoffed. "We were together because of an arranged marriage. Who ever said I loved you? Who promised you forever? If you'd faced reality earlier, you wouldn't be hurting like this now."
Clara froze.
So in his eyes, none of this counted as betrayal.
Because from the very beginning, she had never mattered to him.
At that moment, a choked voice broke in. "Clara… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Vivian stood on the steps, her cheek still swollen, tears streaming down her face.
She stumbled toward Clara, reaching out but not daring to touch her. "It's my fault… I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have fallen for him… But I couldn't help it… I hate myself every day for it…"
"Vivian!" Julian stepped forward immediately, pulling her behind him. "What are you apologizing for? You didn't do anything wrong. Feelings aren't something you can control."
Vivian shook her head, crying harder. "But she's Clara… how could I…"
"That's enough," Julian cut her off, his voice low. "You don't need to apologize for loving me."
Clara stood there, watching them.
One cried in remorse. The other stood firm in defense.
How ironic. The one who hurt her most… was also the one who had loved her most sincerely.
Suddenly, Clara felt exhausted.
So exhausted that even anger had drained away.
"Forget it." She spoke softly, as if to herself, and to them. "Whatever you do, I don't care anymore."
She looked at Julian and said only one thing. "Don't forget to sign the divorce papers."
By the time Clara returned to the mansion, it was completely dark.
She went straight to the bedroom, opened the closet, and started packing.
She didn't have many clothes. Most were simple suits and a few old sweaters, things she wore when she was alone.
The designer dresses Julian had given her were untouched, hanging neatly in the corner like a dream that had never been opened.
Her phone rang.
It was her former boss in Kingshaven.
"Clara, your position is ready, and your visa has been expedited. You can come anytime. The company has arranged an apartment for you, and you can start next Monday."
Clara closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
"Thank you. I'll take the earliest flight over."
After hanging up, she felt the weight on her chest ease, just a little.
If she stayed any longer, she would break. Not her body. Her heart.
In Kingshaven, she could have a new job, a new life, new people.
She had just stuffed the last coat into her suitcase when the front door was pushed open.
Julian stood in the doorway, his tie loosened, his expression a mix of urgency and anger.
The moment he saw her packing, his expression darkened. He strode over and grabbed her wrist. "Where are you going?"
Clara didn't struggle. She simply pulled her hand back gently. "We're getting divorced. Of course I'm moving out."
"Divorce?" Julian let out a cold laugh. "Think this through, Clara. You're not the Sterling heiress anymore. And you're still trying to use divorce as leverage?"
Clara paused and looked up at him.
Under the light, her gaze was still, like a lake in late autumn, without a ripple.
"You're saying all this now…" she let out a soft laugh, "does that mean you don't want the divorce?"
Julian froze.
Her words struck like a needle, catching him off guard in the softest part of his chest.
Ever since she mentioned divorce, something in him had felt unsettled.
"You're overthinking it." Julian turned his face away, his tone hard. "I just don't want you coming back to bother me and Vivian when you have no one left."
Clara nodded, zipped up her suitcase, and stood. "Don't worry. I don't have a habit of chasing married men."
She picked up her suitcase and walked toward the door.
The door closed softly behind her.
She flagged down a cab and gave the driver the airport address.
As the car pulled away from the mansion, she didn't look back.
Julian remained where he was, his fists clenched, his knuckles ashen.
