Shadows at the DoorClara’s pulse thundered in her ears, louder than the night itself. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the photo glowing on Ethan’s phone. Her own face stared back at her—vulnerable, unaware, framed perfectly in the penthouse window like prey under a hunter’s scope.Her stomach heaved. The idea that someone had been that close, watching without her knowing, made her skin crawl. She wrapped her arms around herself, as though she could shield her body from eyes that already had seen too much.Ethan slid the phone face down onto the table, as if turning away from it could erase what it meant. His jaw was clenched so tightly she thought his teeth might crack.“Clara.” His voice was steady, but it carried the weight of a storm straining against its leash. He turned to her, cupping her face gently, forcing her to look at him instead of the terror still buzzing in her head. “He won’t touch you. Do you hear me? Not while I’m breathing.”Tears stung the back of her eyes. S

Chapter 33 – Shadows in the WallsThe rain outside was steady, tapping like ghostly fingers against the tall glass windows of Ethan’s penthouse. Night cloaked the city in layers of quiet menace, and Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her—not from outside, but from within the walls themselves. Every creak, every whisper of wind felt like Kane’s breath on the back of her neck.She had grown used to Ethan’s presence over the weeks, his quiet confidence filling the vast, cold rooms of his home. But tonight, even Ethan’s composure seemed thinner, as though the storm had seeped into him too. He was pacing, phone in hand, barking clipped orders at his head of security.Clara sat curled on the sofa, hugging her knees. She wasn’t normally one to fold in on herself, but fear had a way of rearranging even the strongest posture. And after the death experience she had the other day off course she wasn't the same, thank goodness Ethan was able to subdue the intruders. She

Chapter 35 – Masks and MirrorsThe Astoria Hotel glittered like a jewel against the night sky, its towering glass walls reflecting the cascade of golden lights strung along the boulevard. Black cars and limousines pulled up one after another, releasing men in perfectly tailored suits and women draped in shimmering gowns. Tonight was more than a charity gala—it was the event of the season, a congregation of power, wealth, and influence. And within this polished crowd, Ethan Sterling and Clara Bennett had no choice but to play their most convincing roles yet: husband and wife.The limousine glided to a halt. Clara inhaled deeply, her palms damp despite the silk gloves covering them. Her reflection in the tinted window looked flawless—her hair in soft waves, her emerald gown hugging her frame with effortless elegance, and a diamond necklace catching every stray beam of light. She looked every bit the billionaire’s wife, but inside, nerves thrummed like a drumbeat.Beside her, Ethan radi

The Letter’s EdgeThe ballroom buzzed like a hive disturbed. Murmurs surged through the guests, glasses clinked nervously, and camera flashes went off as reporters tried to capture the moment that had just cracked the polished surface of the gala. Kane’s shadow lingered even though he was gone, leaving behind only the folded note—a single line that cut deeper than Clara expected.How long can you keep pretending, Mrs. Sterling?The words felt like a blade pressed against her throat. Pretending. That was what this marriage was, wasn’t it? A contract. A performance. Yet Kane had turned the truth into a weapon, a whisper loud enough to rattle her bones.Ethan’s arm tightened around her waist as he steered her away from the curious eyes and questions. His jaw was rigid, his eyes cold steel. Clara could tell he was furious—not because of the spectacle, but because Kane had dared to use her as a piece on his board.“Keep your head up,” Ethan muttered under his breath.Clara swallowed hard a

The Truth He ChoosesClara’s fingers hovered over the folded note as though it might scorch her skin. The ink felt heavier than it should, each letter carved with deliberate weight: If you want the truth, meet me tonight. Alone.Her pulse thundered in her ears. The note was unmistakably Ethan’s handwriting—precise, firm, controlled. And yet, something about it unsettled her even more than Kane’s messages.Ethan had never invited her into his world. He only gave orders, drew lines, closed doors. But now, this note was a key.Or a trap.Clara’s throat tightened as she pressed the paper flat on the marble countertop. She wanted to ask him immediately what it meant. But when she turned, Ethan was already in motion—leaning against the frame of the glass wall, his gaze on the cityscape beyond, phone in hand, his voice clipped as he spoke to someone on the other end.Business. Always business.By the time he ended the call, his mask was back in place. “We’re tightening security. Kane’s reach