That evening the restaurant smelled of butter and old oak. She hadn’t expected to run into them — but there they were: Adrian and Vanessa, laughing, shoulder-to-shoulder as if the world belonged to them. Adrian’s face shifted the moment he saw Clara in the doorway—surprise cracking into something raw and animal: rage.
He shoved Vanessa away like an afterthought and stalked over, seizing Clara’s wrist with a grip that burned. “Where have you been? Who’s that man you were meeting? Don’t lie—who’s your adulterer?” His breath came hard. “I, Adrian, rule this city. I’ll find him and ruin him.”
Vanessa darted forward in a frenzy. Her nails hooked into Clara’s hair, claws raking a red line across her cheek. “Bitch! You dare show your face here and seduce my man?”
Clara—still weak from the fever—staggered backward. The shove sent her down; her forehead smashed the corner of the table. Pain flared hot and sharp. A shocked hush rippled through the room.
Adrian leaned over her like a conqueror. “Listen,” he hissed, voice low and threatening, “until those divorce papers are signed, you’re still my wife. Try to cheat and I’ll bury you—both you and whoever sleeps with you.”