Clara’s POV
I was still confined to a hospital bed, my body weak and unsteady, as if it hadn’t quite caught up with everything that had been taken from me. My arms throbbed constantly, sore from the blood loss, and even sitting up for more than a few minutes made the room spin. But none of that compared to the ache lodged deep in my chest—the kind of pain no medication could touch.
I was mourning my baby.
While I lay there, trapped between white sheets and beeping monitors, the world seemed determined to remind me how little my suffering mattered. News of Mark and Nina reached me without mercy. A former acquaintance forwarded a video from a high‑profile charity gala—Mark in a tailored tuxedo, laughing easily, his hand resting possessively on Nina’s waist. She leaned into him, glowing, triumphant.
Another clip followed not long after. A private dinner party. Mark feeding her cake with a fork, bending close to murmur something in her ear. Nina laughed, tilting her head back, utterly unashamed.
He looked relaxed. Unburdened.
Like a man who had lost nothing at all.
When I was finally cleared for discharge, I left the hospital alone. No car waiting. No driver. No assistant. Not even a courtesy check‑in. I walked out clutching a flimsy hospital bag, confronted with the brutal realization that I had been erased from their priorities completely.
The thought of returning to the estate made my stomach knot. Every hallway, every room felt contaminated by memory. But all my personal documents were still there—passports, legal papers, everything I needed to leave. I didn’t have a choice.
And then, because the universe apparently wasn’t finished with me, I saw them.
They stood just outside the maternity wing. Nina looked radiant, already basking in attention like this was her moment to claim. Mark hovered close, one hand resting at the small of her back, guiding her like a prized possession.
A nurse passed by, smiling brightly. “Mr. Hale, your wife looks wonderful today.”
My throat tightened, but I didn’t correct her. I didn’t have the energy.
I turned away, ready to disappear.
“Clara.”
Mark’s voice sliced through the hallway. I froze mid‑step. My shoulders stiffened, but I didn’t turn right away. Of course he noticed me. Of course he couldn’t let me fade quietly.
I finally faced him across the polished floor. “I wasn’t following you,” I said flatly. “I was discharged today. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Before he could respond, Nina slipped her arm through his, clinging to him like she belonged there.
“Babe,” she said softly, fake concern dripping from every word, “maybe she should ride with us. I feel kind of bad. She donated blood for me, remember? The least we can do is help her get home.”
I almost laughed at the audacity.
Mark brushed his thumb against Nina’s cheek. “You’re too generous,” he said, then glanced at me. “Fine.”
So I got into the car. Not because I wanted to—but because I needed my papers before I could disappear for good.
I slid into the backseat and stared straight ahead.
Then I saw it.
A pair of women’s underwear lay crumpled beside me, stained unmistakably white. The sight punched the air from my lungs.
Nina twisted around in her seat, her lips curling into a smug smile. “Oh wow,” she giggled, “I can’t believe I left those here. Remember, babe? After what we did in the backseat last week?”
Mark laughed casually, eyes still on the road. “You nearly wrecked the upholstery.”
She hummed happily. “You didn’t seem to mind when I was on your lap outside the estate. Or when I unzipped you during that long drive and kept you entertained.”
“Traffic’s more bearable with you around,” he replied easily.
“And that time you had to pull over because I wouldn’t stop?” she added, grinning. “You were practically shaking.”
My stomach churned. I turned my face toward the window, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. My hands curled into fists in my lap, nails digging into my skin.
While they carried on like I didn’t exist, I quietly pulled out my phone and opened an email from my cousin, Nico. My heart fluttered when I saw the flight confirmation.
Below the details, he’d added a message:
Here’s another flight option. It leaves tonight at 9 PM. I really hope you make this one.
A small smile touched my lips.
I typed back quickly:
Thank you. I’m sorry I missed the last flight.
Almost immediately, his reply came through:
What actually happened that day? You don’t have to protect me.
My fingers hovered. Nico had always been my shield. If he knew the truth, he’d start a legal war—and I didn’t want more destruction on my conscience.
So I answered instead:
I’ll explain soon. I just need to leave first.
Leaving was all that mattered now.
Up front, Mark laughed softly, apologizing to Nina for something trivial, playing the attentive partner. Yet I could feel his gaze flicking toward me, searching for a reaction.
I gave him nothing.
That same irritation I’d seen in his eyes before surfaced again. He hated being ignored.
“You’ve been glued to your phone since we got in,” he snapped. “Who are you talking to?”
“Just reading the news,” I replied calmly, eyes fixed on my digital boarding pass.
He didn’t believe me.
Without warning, he reached back and ripped the phone from my hands. Anger surged through me—not fear, just pure, burning rage.
“What’s the passcode?” he demanded.
I laughed softly. “The day we met. You know—the day I made the biggest mistake of my life. Shouldn’t be hard to remember. You were charming for about five minutes before becoming unbearable.”
He scowled and tried once. Twice. Three times.
Locked.
Nina leaned over, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Just drop it, babe. It’s not like she has anyone left to talk to. Or any pride. Who else would bother replying to her now?”
She winked at me.
I stared back at her, silent.
And for the first time, I realized something important.
They thought I was broken.
They had no idea I was already planning my escape.
