Clara abandoned all other thoughts and bolted toward the sidewalk. Spotting the glowing sign of a 24-hour convenience store through the chaotic blur, she dashed inside to seek shelter.

She had barely stepped into the relative quiet of the store and hadn't even caught her breath when her phone violently began to vibrate.

Clara pulled the device from her pocket, and the name flashing across the screen was Ethan.

Chapter 5

She froze for a fraction of a second before pressing the answer button. Ethan's familiar, smooth voice drifted instantly through the receiver: "Clara, are you awake?"

Clara let out a flat note of confirmation. "How did you know?"

Ethan’s tone remained incredibly gentle, sounding entirely like a man filled with deep, protective care for his wife. "I knew the thunder would wake you up and scare you. Before I left, I checked the weather report and made sure to unplug all the major appliances except the refrigerator. Don't be scared, honey. Just go back to sleep safely."

Listening to Ethan's seemingly devoted, thoughtful words, Clara felt an icy chill seep straight into her bones.

Once upon a time, she would have been profoundly moved by this level of care, believing herself blessed to have married such an attentive, loving husband. But now, with the sickening weight of his secrets burning in her mind, this entire display felt utterly grotesque and laughably absurd.

His carefully constructed "concern" was nothing more than a jagged blade, driving itself mercilessly into her already shattered heart, carving open a fresh, bleeding wound.

A devastating fire triggered by a lightning strike during her childhood had remained an absolute nightmare, permanently seared into the deepest recesses of Clara’s memory.

The raging, roaring flames, the suffocating blankets of black smoke, and the terror-stricken faces of her family members illuminated by flashes of lightning had become the most horrifying images of her youth.

Ever since that day, every single thunderstorm filled Clara’s chest with a paralyzing, suffocating terror. It was a dark, inescapable trauma from her past that no amount of time could ever fully erase.

And the Ethan of the past, during those storm-ravaged nights, had truly provided Clara with a mountain of warmth and security.

Whenever a storm rolled in, he would abandon absolutely everything else to remain steadfastly by Clara’s side.

He would grip her hand tightly, using the softest, most reassuring words to soothe her erratic breathing, repeating over and over that she had nothing to fear because he was right there with her.

She remembered one specific night when Ethan was in the middle of a massive corporate dinner. It was a critical networking event for his expanding empire, a lavish affair where business deals and crucial partnerships were being forged amidst clinking glasses and high-stakes conversation.

Yet the absolute moment the sky outside began to blacken and the first low rumbles of thunder echoed through the air, Ethan did not hesitate for a single second.

Ignoring the utterly astonished looks of the prominent business executives surrounding him, he offered a hurried, abrupt apology to his partners, stood up, and walked completely out of the high-profile dinner.

He drove like a madman through the pouring rain, desperate to get back to Clara as fast as humanly possible, solely to ensure he could provide her with the one thing she needed most to survive a terrifying storm: his presence.

Back then, in Clara’s eyes, Ethan was her shield against the world, the one constant anchor who could banish her deepest terrors.

Clara gripped the phone, listening to the soothing murmurs flowing from the receiver, and a dangerous, desperate flicker of doubt sparked in her chest.

She couldn't stop herself from questioning her own mind—was she truly just becoming hyper-paranoid?

Perhaps Ethan had told the absolute truth. Perhaps he really was just at the office dealing with an unexpected crisis.

After all, the years of devotion and the warmth he had given her during those terrifying storms had been completely real. Could a man’s entire soul truly alter so drastically, shifting from pure love to total deception overnight?

Just as she was drowning in a sea of internal conflict and vicious self-doubt, a familiar, sleek Maybach rolled slowly into her line of sight.

The car, unmistakable and sharp, belonged to Ethan. It was currently flashing its hazard lights, cutting a vivid, piercing path through the heavy curtain of rain.

Immediately following its arrival, a petite, slender figure emerged from the south gate of the luxury apartment complex, sprinting out into the downpour.

The girl moved with a light, bounding grace, her rapid steps through the rain radiating an undeniable sense of eager, frenzied excitement.

The hem of her knee-length skirt billowed wildly with her movements, looking like a flower blooming aggressively in the dark storm, entirely unbothered and untamed.

The girl reached Ethan's car within seconds, pausing for a mere beat by the front passenger window as if checking something inside.

Instead of pulling open the front passenger door to climb in, she spun on her heel, rapidly yanked open the rear door, and slid gracefully into the back seat.

A moment later, Ethan stepped out of the driver's side.

His face was bright with a wide, easy smile, entirely oblivious to the cold, shattering gaze tracking his every movement from the convenience store window not far away.

He walked straight toward the rear door, pulling it open without a single shred of hesitation, and slid right into the back seat alongside her.

Clara stood frozen behind the glass of the convenience store, the deafening roar of the rain hammering against the roof while her eyes remained locked on the dark, tinted windows of the stationary vehicle.

She simply stared, her expression a fragile mask over an unreadable storm of shock, fury, agonizing grief, and a devastating, hollow wave of self-mockery.

After what felt like an eternity, Ethan’s car finally hummed to life, slowly rolling forward until it disappeared into the dark rain.

From the moment she entered the vehicle to the moment it drove away, the girl remained hidden in the back, never showing her face again.

Clara remained completely still, looking exactly like a woman who had been struck by a freezing curse.

In this exact second, the absolute last thread of hope she had been desperately clinging to snapped into dust.

She finally understood that her suspicions had never been a product of madness; Ethan had truly, fundamentally betrayed her.

And yet, she had actually been foolish enough to invent excuses for him, allowing his rehearsed lies to shake the absolute certainty of her own eyes.

Chapter 6

As the morning sun broke over the horizon, its pale light filtered through the windows, casting a dull glow over the penthouse as Ethan finally returned, carrying the heavy exhaustion of an unbroken night.

In his hands, he held a massive bouquet of crimson roses, their vibrant petals glistening under the early light in a desperate mimicry of romance, while his other hand gripped a container of warm breakfast porridge from the café beneath his corporate headquarters.

"I was worried you would forget to eat breakfast, so I made sure to bring this back for you."

He spoke softly, setting the flowers and the food onto the marble table, a practiced, flawless smile smoothing over his features as if nothing had altered between them.

Clara offered him a quiet, unreadable look, a profound layer of cold detachment settling deep within her eyes as she murmured a flat question. "You haven't slept a single wink all night?"

"The revisions required by the board were exhaustive; there simply wasn't a window to rest."

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke, letting out a heavy sigh to lend weight to his performance of corporate exhaustion. A moment later, he smoothly transitioned into his next script. "I have an international business trip to navigate; I need to pack my things and head straight to the terminal. Eat your breakfast and try to get some sleep, honey. Your eyes are heavily bloodshot."

The words barely out of his mouth, he turned on his heel to throw his clothes into a leather suitcase.

Within minutes, he cleared the perimeter of the penthouse, climbing into the rear of his chauffeured vehicle and vanishing into the city.

The moment the doors locked behind him, Clara sat perfectly still in the heavy silence, staring down at the roses and the warm food without a single drop of emotion in her chest.

After a long beat, she rose to her feet and made her way down to the underground parking garage.

She walked directly toward the parking stall where Ethan's Maybach was stationed.

Her sole purpose was to reclaim the voice-activated recording device she had tucked away into the hidden folds of the vehicle the previous night.

Securing the device without any complications, she turned to head back to the elevator lobby.

As she passed a row of waste bins, her steps faltered for a fraction of a second as her eyes dropped to the extravagant bouquet of roses—a display that felt like a direct, sickening mockery of their early years. Without a single shred of hesitation, she tossed the flowers straight into the trash.