Abandoning all hesitation, she marched straight into the bedroom, yanked open the dresser drawer, and pulled out their official marriage certificate.

Without a single backward glance, she exited the apartment, hailed a taxi on the street, and read the address of the boutique hotel to the driver.

The vehicle screeched to a halt outside the luxury entrance, and Clara stepped out into the night air.

She stood perfectly still, staring up at the grand, glittering facade of the building that felt like a direct, mocking insult to her existence. Taking an immense breath to steady her lungs, she pulled out her phone and deliberately punched in three digits: 911.

The moment the emergency operator connected, Clara's voice was a sheet of smooth, unbreakable ice. "Hello, I would like to file a formal report. My husband is currently soliciting prostitution."

Flanked by a pair of stern, uniform police officers, the hotel manager stepped forward and knocked heavily against the door of suite 1501.

After a brief delay, the door swung slowly inward, revealing Ethan standing on the threshold.

A designer silk robe was loosely draped over his frame, the belt tied in a careless, sloppy knot that left the defined lines of his torso completely exposed.

"What is the meaning of—"

The absolute second his eyes landed on the police officers and the hotel staff standing in the corridor, Ethan froze entirely. The lazy, satisfied relaxation on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by a wave of pure shock and panic.

He could never have anticipated that an entire squad of law enforcement officers would materialize at his door at a time like this.

"We received an emergency report regarding illegal solicitation. Please step aside and cooperate with our investigation," one of the officers stated, his tone carrying an absolute, unyielding authority.

Ethan opened his mouth, a desperate defense clawing up his throat, but the words died before they could form. He stood completely tongue-tied, having no idea how to navigate the disaster.

His gaze darted instinctively back into the room behind him, a flicker of raw panic flashing through his eyes before he snapped his attention back to the officers. His skin had turned a sickly, chalky white, beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead as the terrifying magnitude of the situation settled in.

Clara moved with slow, heavy steps, following behind the officers as they entered the bedroom of suite 1501.

The absolute second she crossed the threshold, the scene laid out before her caused her chest to tighten into a knot of pure disgust.

Discarded garments were strewn carelessly across every available surface, forming a chaotic trail that unspooled from the window to the sofa and tangled around the base of the bed—a visual testament to a frantic, clawing encounter.

Suddenly catching sight of the crowd breaching the room, Sasha let out a piercing, terrified shriek.

She scrambled backward, wrapping the heavy duvet tightly around her body until only her panicked face remained exposed, screaming at the top of her lungs: "You’ve made a massive mistake! He’s my husband! Our relationship is completely legal!"

Hearing her screech, the officer turned his head to offer Clara a long look filled with a deep, professional pity.

In that exact heartbeat, Ethan's frantic gaze crashed into Clara's. He lunged forward, the words tumbling out in a desperate, pleading rush: "Clara, listen to me! She isn't an escort! I didn't solicit anyone!"

But his frantic explanations sounded pathetic and entirely hollow, his wild, unhinged panic serving as an absolute confirmation of his guilt.

Shortly after, the entire party was escorted down to the local precinct to file formal statements.

The atmosphere inside the police station was cold, clinical, and suffocatingly tense as everyone went through the standard protocol of documenting the evening's events.

After what felt like an eternity, Ethan finally concluded his interview and emerged from the back offices.

The moment he cleared the doorway, his eyes locked onto Clara, who was standing quietly in the corridor waiting for him.

Without a single word of warning, he bolted toward her, his fingers clamping tightly around her forearm as the words flew out in an anxious rush: "Clara, the officers made a complete mistake! I’ve cleared everything up with them!"

He spoke with a desperate intensity, as if delivering the explanation could somehow erase the reality of the night and restore their world to normal.

Clara merely offered him a perfectly tranquil gaze, her voice carrying a terrifying level of peace. "Did you clear it up? Your exact relationship with Sasha."

Her eyes held an unreadable, bottomless calm that sent a chill through him.

"Yes, it’s completely clear. She is simply my secretary, I—" Ethan cut himself off mid-sentence, his voice dying in his throat.

A sudden, horrific realization seemed to slam into his mind. His eyes widened into a look of absolute shock as he stared down at her, his voice trembling with disbelief. "You... you were the one who called the police?"

Clara offered no verbal confirmation. She merely allowed the corners of her mouth to tilt upward into a faint, ghost of a smile, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. "It’s good that everything is documented. When the time comes to file our divorce petition, the police record will state in black and white that you were guilty of infidelity."

Her words were razor-sharp and perfectly efficient, striking directly at his throat.

"Clara!" Ethan roared, his eyes instantly bloodshot as he slammed both hands onto her shoulders, shaking her with a desperate, unhinged fury. "Why? Why on earth would you do something like this to me?"

Clara remained entirely silent, standing perfectly still within his violent grip, letting him shake her frame without offering a single shred of resistance. Deep inside her mind, a single thought echoed: Ethan, you pathetic bastard. I am the one who should be asking that question.

He was the one who systematically demolished their marriage; he was the one who carved her heart into pieces. What right did he possess to stand there and demand answers from her?

Chapter 13

Clara's physical health had never been robust, particularly when it came to reproductive matters; conceiving a child proved to be a daunting challenge for her.

As the days blended into weeks following their wedding, her womb remained quiet, bearing no joyful news.

After seven years of marriage, Ethan’s mother gradually lost her patience.

Initially, she adopted a subtle, wearisome approach, constantly whispering about children in Clara's ear, hinting heavily that it was high time to secure an heir, remarking on how everyone else was already cradling grandchildren while she only wished for their household to welcome a new life soon.

However, as time wore on and Clara's belly remained flat, the elderly woman's demeanor shifted drastically, degrading into cold cynicism and biting sarcasm.

Every single time she encountered Clara, she would either utter snide remarks like, "What kind of a woman is complete if she can't even bear a child?" or cast a look of pure disdain at her stomach, muttering hurtful words about whether their family line would end right there.

Fortunately, Ethan stood firmly by Clara’s side throughout this grueling period.

For her sake, he repeatedly bore the brunt of his mother’s explosive, rapid-fire fury.

He would always grip Clara’s hand tightly, declaring with absolute certainty, "Even if we never have children for the rest of our lives, I don't care. As long as we are together, nothing else matters."

In those days, he truly seemed like a protective harbor shielding her from the storm, allowing her to feel a fragile thread of warmth amidst the suffocating pressure of his family.

Yet Clara knew deep down that Ethan actually adored children.

Whenever they encountered other people's children on the street, a genuine, undeniable fondness would automatically pool in his eyes, and his smile while playing with them was entirely real.

Therefore, desperate to bear a child for Ethan and to truly secure her footing in this family, Clara endured an immense amount of suffering.

She sought out countless doctors and consumed endless varieties of medicine.

Whether it was the bitter, nauseating brews of traditional herbs or the diverse pills and capsules of western medicine, if a physician suggested it might help, she would swallow it without a single moment of hesitation.

Heaven finally rewarded her agonizing persistence.

At long last, Clara conceived.

The absolute second they confirmed the news, Ethan erupted into the joyous excitement of a child.

His face radiated pure, unchecked bliss as he wrapped his arms tightly around Clara, exclaiming, "Our baby is going to be the most beautiful little angel. We will call him our little angel."

The happiness of that chapter felt powerful enough to banish every dark cloud that had ever hung over their lives.

But the journey of pregnancy was far from smooth sailing for Clara.

She escaped none of the physical torments required to carry a child. In the early stages, her morning sickness was devastatingly severe; she threw up absolutely everything she consumed, her stomach turning so violently that she was left entirely drained of vitality.