The police officer met Clara’s gaze and hesitated.
“Boss Lynn, Ethan is your husband. If you press charges, he’ll go to jail and get a criminal record. That follows him for life. Are you sure?”
Clara’s face was unreadable; she lifted her chin.
“I’m sure. Unless he kneels and publicly apologizes to Felix, swearing never to strike him again.”
Her calm unmoored me. I forced a smile I didn’t feel.
“Clara, are you sure? You want me to beg a mistress?”
“What mistress?” she snapped. “Don’t slander. Felix is my brother—my benefactor’s son.”
I let the sneer show. “Stop pretending. I saw the way you look at him.”
She stared at me for a long moment. “I didn’t betray our marriage,” she said.
“Fine. Wait for the court.”
An officer took my arm. “Mr. Hill, you’ve been wronged, but you can’t act on impulse. If this goes to court, you could be jailed.”
He leaned close. “That pretty boy doesn’t look harmless. If you go inside, will he let you out? Think carefully.”
The warning landed like a weight. With Clara shielding him, I had no protector. The room tightened.
In the interrogation room, I rose and bowed my head to apologize to Felix.
Before I could speak, Clara cut in. “Kneel and beg three times,” she ordered. “Then swear that if you ever target Felix again, you’ll die a miserable death.”
The demand stunned me. She wanted humiliation for another man she favored.
Felix watched with contempt and satisfaction. The policeman nudged my knee with his boot.
“A real man can bend,” he said. “Apologize.”
I ground my teeth and forced the words out, each syllable tasting of defeat. “I’m sorry. It was my fault. I swear I’ll never fight Felix again. If I break this promise, may I die a miserable death?”
Clara’s face softened into a small, satisfied smile. “ Ethan,” she said, “I knew you wouldn’t make things difficult.”
She gave orders. “You go to the company. I’ll take Felix to the hospital and stay with him for a few days. You manage the rest.”
She took Felix’s arm and left. Outside the station, my phone rang.
“Mr. Hill, the overseas flights are booked. We leave tonight.”
“Pick me up at eight. I want my technical team with me.”
“We’ll send a private jet. As many seats as you need. You choose salaries.”
Before leaving, I went to the hospital. Felix blocked the ward and smirked. I slid the divorce papers across.
“Felix, the company needs this signed. I know you’ll get Ms. Clara to sign.”
He waved me down the hall. “Wait here.”
Ten minutes later, he slammed the signed papers into my hands. “Now that you’re divorced, stop clinging to Ms. Clara. I don’t tolerate injustice. If you court her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
He sneered at my knees as if they mattered.
I remembered the small things: the way she used to trace the seam of my sleeve when I was anxious, the late-night calls during the company's worst months, the promises exchanged under fluorescent office lights. Those moments felt less like history and more like bait—proof I had been patient, loyal, and blind. The betrayal tasted like ash.
I folded the papers and felt the full weight of what I had lost.
An hour later, I received the expedited divorce certificate and placed one copy on the coffee table in the villa.
At eight o’clock, I boarded the plane with my team, bound for a foreign land. As the city lights faded below, I thought silently—Clara, I’ve paid my dues. Let’s never meet again.
