The tenderness in Ethan's gaze caught me off guard, making my thoughts scatter and my ears flush red. His eyes were warm, focused solely on me, as if he wanted to say something he'd been holding in for a long time.
"Clara, I…"
He hesitated, as though mustering the courage to confess something.
But before he could finish, a sudden, sharp pain shot through my wrist.
A powerful force yanked me away, and I stumbled—falling into an all-too-familiar embrace.
"Mark?!" I gasped, struggling against him. "What are you doing here? Let go of me!"
I pushed at his chest, but his arms only tightened around me.
To my shock, he had returned. Not only had he resolved his company's merger, but he had flown overseas to chase me down once again.
"Clara, what are you going to use to threaten me with now?" he growled, his voice low and hoarse.
His chin was rough with unshaven stubble, and exhaustion was etched into his face. But in his eyes—there was nothing but relentless determination.
I had thought that after everything—the silence, the distance, Chloe's interference—he would eventually forget about me and let go.
But clearly, I had underestimated how deep his obsession ran.
Before I could say anything, the pressure around me vanished.
Ethan had stepped forward and pulled me behind him, shielding me completely with his body.
His expression was cold and resolute as he confronted Mark. "Don't harass her again," he warned.
Mark, caught off guard by the sudden intervention, clenched his fists—but his obsessive glare never left me.
He didn't even spare Ethan a glance. Instead, he called out coldly:
"Clara, come here. Look closely. Who is your real fiancé?!"
I laughed—completely incredulous.
"Mark, are you even listening to yourself?" I asked, amused. "We already broke up. Do you really not understand what that means?"
My indifference made his temple veins bulge, and he inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself.
"It's been two months," he said through gritted teeth. "You've had enough time to cool off. Now come back with me."
His tone was as arrogant and overbearing as ever.
Without warning, he lunged forward, clearly intending to drag me with him again.
I opened my mouth to yell at him—when another voice cut in.
Chloe had appeared.
Her gaze immediately landed on Ethan standing protectively in front of me, and a flicker of jealousy flashed in her eyes. She walked over, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Mark, it seems Clara has already found someone new. That's probably why she left you so easily."
She put on a pitiful expression, sighing dramatically. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't had my period and needed to stay in your home, she wouldn't have had a reason to break up with you."
"And now, she's running off with another man. Are you really going to let her treat you like this?"
Her words made Mark's eyes turn bloodshot.
But instead of flying into a rage, he swallowed it all down and looked at me again, this time with tightly clenched teeth.
"Clara," he said lowly, "as long as you come back, I'll forgive everything—the betrayal, the threats, all of it."
"If you hate Chloe living at home, I'll send her away. You can have the final say on everything. The house, our life—everything will be according to you."
There was desperation in his voice now, and even a hint of pleading in his expression.
I paused, then slowly responded:
"Fine. Let her stay. But I want to talk to her privately, just the two of us."
Relief instantly lit up Mark's face.
Without hesitation, he turned to Chloe and gently nudged her toward me.
"Go. Listen to what she has to say."
But the moment his back was turned, Chloe shot me a contemptuous look, her face twisting into a smug, condescending smile.
"Clara," she said mockingly, "isn't Mark good to you? Even after you cheated on him, he still forgives you."
"If I were you, I'd be—"
Splatt!
She never finished.
I casually reached for the handful of foamy dog shampoo in my hand and smeared it across her face without warning.
Caught off guard, she shrieked as the soap got into her eyes.
"Aah! My eyes!"
But I wasn't finished.
I grabbed her hair and yanked hard before delivering several crisp slaps across her face.
Smack! Smack!
Her cheeks turned red and swollen almost instantly, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"I told you not to spread lies! Who told you to stir up drama?"
Slap after slap landed with all the frustration I had bottled up for months.
When I finally released her, I gave her one last shove—sending her flying back toward Mark.
But to everyone's surprise, he didn't catch her.
He stepped aside coldly.
And Chloe landed face-first—right on the pile of fresh dog poop Buster had left earlier on the lawn.
"Blegh—ugh!"
The sight was pitiful.
She lay on the grass, retching uncontrollably, humiliated and crying.