The moment Sebastian Hartwell's car vanished down the street, Clara Morgan attacked the breakfast spread with the focus of a starving artist.
Forget Sebastian Hartwell. Carbohydrates are my soulmate now.
He'd given her a year's reprieve. Twelve months, and she'd bolt from Hartwell Group faster than a greyhound. Open her own design studio. Never look back.
Her phone buzzed – Vivian Sterling's caller ID flashing like a distress beacon.
"If you've been kidnapped, breathe twice."
Clara snorted, mouth full of beef short rib. "Relax. His Highness just left."
A gusty sigh rattled the speaker. "Jesus Christ, that man's certifiable! Since when does he confiscate phones and force confessions? Did he railroad you into bed again?"
"Surprisingly, no. I can't decipher his new algorithm."
Vivian hesitated. "Clara... you don't think he's actually into you?"
Clara nearly choked on her beef. "Get real. What's to like? Me believing that would require pigs to grow wings and fly."
Vivian's silence stretched, but she pivoted like a pro. "Change of subject. Free tomorrow night? Bruce wants dinner with us."
"As long as Sebastian doesn't invent emergency paperwork."
"My shoot wraps by seven. Meet at the studio?"
"Deal." Clara licked hollandaise off her thumb.
"What are you eating? Sounds obscene."
"Sebastian's untouched breakfast buffet. Waste not, want not."
"..."
Post-feast, Clara stared at her reflection in a polished spoon. Five minutes of internal debate later, she grabbed her keys.
Ethan Windsor needed a hospital visit.
Sebastian had swung fists like a berserker yesterday. Without her interference, Ethan's skull would've been wallpaper paste.
He kept harping on about the past—like a broken record. Well, time to get this over with—once and for all.
Capital City Hospital
Ethan Windsor had spent fourteen hours marinating in antiseptic agony. Propping himself up felt like reassembling shattered porcelain
Bandages swaddled his skull into a grotesque marshmallow. His right arm hung in a sling, blood seeping through gauze like inkblots. Every breath stabbed his ribs, sweat slicking his paper-white skin.
But the physical torment paled against the acid eating through his chest.
Charles and Eleanor Windsor flanked the bed, worry etching deep grooves around their eyes.
Charles gripped the bedside rail. "What possessed you to provoke Sebastian Hartwell? That man has ruin woven into his DNA!"
Eleanor swatted her husband's arm. "He's broken enough without your scolding!"
Ethan kept his jaw locked.
No way he'd admit Sebastian's fury erupted over Clara Morgan's waist caught in Ethan's grip.
His secretary. He nearly killed me over a goddamn secretary.
The puzzle pieces clicked: Clara's neck blooming with love bites yesterday. Sebastian's marks.
Ethan's left hand clenched. Pain bloomed where his nails bit his palm.
Maybe I'll never get the chance to be with her again.
Flashback: High school graduation day.
Serena Vance had peeled off her dress in Ethan's bedroom. Tequila fogged his brain. He'd fumbled with bra hooks when movement flickered in the doorway—
Clara's wide, wounded eyes.
She'd texted that night. Gone. Don't look for me.
Guilt had paralyzed him then. Cowardice masquerading as respect. Had he already—
Christ. The monitors beeped faster as agony tore through his ribs.
Eleanor's voice yanked him back. "Ethan, did you tell Clara you're hurt? She should be here."
Ethan almost laughed. She watched it happen. If she cared, she'd already be here.
"Don't bother. She won't come."
The door hinges squeaked.
Clara Morgan stood silhouetted against fluorescent lights.
Ethan's pulse rocketed.
"Clara!" Eleanor scurried over. "How did you know?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Windsor." Clara's smile didn't touch her eyes. "Hospital gossip travels fast."
Liar. Ethan knew she'd witnessed the carnage.
"Oh, we'll give you privacy!" Charles practically beamed, hauling Eleanor out. The door clicked shut.
Clara lingered by the bed. Didn't sit.
Seeing Ethan bandaged like a mummy stirred unwanted sympathy.
Sebastian's vengeance exceeded the crime. Teenage Ethan hadn't asked for a traumatized orphan to invade his home. Hadn't wanted her puppy-love pursuit. His cruelty stemmed from resentment, not malice.
"What did you need to say, Ethan?"
His bloodshot eyes lifted to hers. "Tell me it's not true. You and Hartwell?"
Clara's teeth scraped her lower lip. "Not your business."
"If not me, fine. But him? You know what he is. Do you think for one second he'd treasure you?"
"He won't. You didn't. Stop performing this repentant sinner act. It only moves you."
His voice cracked. "You really think I don't love you?"
"Ethan Windsor." Her words fell like ice chips. "I was bullied and ignored countless times—by Selena, the servants, even your parents. Need I list them all? So many chances to show kindness, yet you never saw them. Whatever you feel now? Irrelevant. I don't need it."
The heart monitor's rhythm stuttered. Ethan's vision blurred.
Too late. Years too late.
He dropped his gaze. "I know. What I did... this beating is karmic payback."
For a decade, orphaned Clara had nursed a secret dream: Ethan Windsor would stride into her math class, declare he'd loved her since third grade.
Reality? Endless sneers. "Trailer-trash orphan." "Why don't you just vanish?"
Now that the confession finally came? Hollow.
Like hearing rain forecast after drought killed your crops.
"Hope Rest well, Ethan."
She turned. Didn't glance back.
The door whispered shut behind her.
Ethan Windsor pressed his face into sterile hospital linen. Salt bloodied his tongue.
Across town, Clara Morgan boarded the subway. She didn't cry.
The girl who'd ached for Ethan Windsor's love had died in his doorway 7 years ago. All that remained was a woman armored in frost.