The owner of the establishment was a fascinating individual—she was Clara's university junior, a local London girl born into a heavily affluent estate who operated under absolutely zero financial pressure, allowing her to follow her creative whims after graduation and establish this highly unique, atmospheric inn within a historic mews.

The city was currently navigating the quiet depths of the tourist off-season, leaving the usually crowded streets of London relatively deserted, and consequently, very few travelers were booked into the property.

The moment Clara arrived at the inn, she settled comfortably beneath the blossoming branches of a cherry blossom tree in the front courtyard, a steaming mug of jasmine tea resting on the table before her as she lightly cradled the porcelain, her eyes drifting shut to inhale the delicate fragrance while she surrendered to the absolute tranquility of the moment.

Suddenly, the sharp, melodic chime of the wind bell hanging above the front gates shattered the peaceful silence. Immediately following the noise, a familiar voice drifted into the courtyard: "I need a single room for the night."

Clara’s respiration hitched violently for a full second, her heart contracting as though a heavy fist had suddenly clamped around it.

Slowly, mechanically, she turned her chin to track the noise, and her eyes crashed directly into Ethan.

In that singular heartbeat, Clara's mind was an absolute, hollow void; she could never have anticipated encountering Ethan again at a time like this, in a secluded haven like this.

"I'm incredibly sorry, sir, but the house is completely full," her junior stated, a perfectly polished, professional smile mapped across her features, though her voice carried a rigid note of absolute finality.

Ethan’s brows furrowed instantly upon hearing the rejection, his eyes narrowing with deep suspicion as he barked back, "How on earth is that possible?"

To his mind, given that the city was in the dead center of the off-season, the claim that a boutique inn was completely booked failed to match any baseline logic.

"Oh, it is entirely possible," the girl replied, her smile remaining perfectly intact, though a dangerous undertone vibrated beneath her polite mask. "As of this exact afternoon, our establishment has permanently ceased accepting fresh arrivals."

She delivered the line with an effortless, casual dismissiveness, yet the words formed an iron barrier that barred him from advancing past the threshold.

Ethan instantly felt the targeted hostility of the move, a dark, dangerous look clouding his features.

Deep down, he understood with absolute certainty that Clara must have pre-arranged this defense with her junior, yet his pride refused to let him accept being discarded so easily.

"Fine. I have no desire to purchase a room anyway; I am simply here to locate someone," Ethan countered, shifting his strategy on the spot, assuming that even if they barred him from renting a room, they possessed no authority to stop him from reaching Clara, refusing to believe he lacked the power to force a simple confrontation with his wife.

"Tragically, sir, the lady in question possesses absolutely zero desire to be located by you."

Though the girl maintained her polished smile, the warmth had vanished entirely from her eyes, leaving nothing but a freezing, clinical ice that served as a direct warning for him to step back.

"If you choose to maintain this disruptive behavior on our property, I will have no alternative but to contact the local authorities." The junior’s tone hardened into something intensely serious; she had absolutely no intention of permitting Ethan to orchestrate a unhinged scene within her establishment, fully prepared to deploy any measure necessary to shield Clara's sanctuary.

A wave of explosive, choked fury surged through Ethan's chest, but he was completely powerless to breach her defense.

Refusing to retreat without a fight, he threw his voice toward the courtyard where Clara was sitting, roaring out her name: "Clara!"

His voice vibrated with a frantic, weeping intensity, a desperate plea for her to look at the remnants of their shared history and grant him a single glance.

Yet Clara merely kept her chin dropped, her fingers scrolling smoothly across the screen of her device, acting entirely as though his thunderous roaring was nothing more than empty background noise, refusing to grant him even a fraction of her attention.

In this chapter of her life, her soul held nothing for Ethan but a profound, suffocating exhaustion and complete detachment; she simply wanted to exist miles away from his orbit, done with his chaos forever.

The moment he was forced off the premises, Clara lifted a slightly puzzled gaze to meet her junior's eyes, asking quietly, "How on earth were you so certain he was pursuing me?"

To her mind, given Ethan's sudden, unannounced materialization at the gates, the girl's instantaneous clarity regarding his intent seemed somewhat extraordinary.

"You uploaded a series of beautiful portraits from your wedding to your network timeline years ago, Clara," the junior explained with a soft chuckle, a spark of natural intelligence dancing in her eyes.

Only then did the memory return to Clara—prior to their official ceremony, she had indeed broadcasted a selection of their premium bridal portraits to her close circle.

However, her privacy protocols were strictly calibrated to render her timeline invisible past three days, and given that years had unspooled since that chapter, she was deeply surprised the girl had preserved the memory with such perfect definition.

"I apologize for dragging you into this disaster," Clara murmured, a faint, self-mocking smile touching her lips. "We are currently navigating our official divorce cooling-off period."

Uttering the technical reality aloud brought a volatile, heavy wave of complicated emotion back to her chest—a messy fusion of deep mourning for the absolute ruin of their marriage and a quiet disorientation regarding the blank horizon ahead of her.

"There is absolutely no need to apologize to me, Clara. If there is a single thing you require to navigate this storm, you need only speak the word. Though I abandoned the legal track after graduation to open this inn, my old university roommate has established herself as one of the most ruthless, high-profile divorce attorneys in the city." The junior rushed to offer her reassurance, her voice dripping with an intense, fierce loyalty, desperate to provide Clara with a concrete shield against her husband's power.

But before Clara could form a response to the girl's loyalty, the front gates were violently kicked open, and a frantic figure stormed into the sanctuary.

The girl began screaming the absolute moment she cleared the threshold: "Where is Clara?! Get out here right now!"

Chapter 22

The sheer, aggressive malice vibrating from the girl made it sound as though Clara had personally destroyed her entire life.

Glancing toward the fresh disruption, the junior offered Clara a dry, amused smile. "It seems your presence is a magnificent marketing tool, Clara; my quiet little mews is turning into a high-traffic destination this afternoon."

Though her words were delivered with a layer of easy sarcasm, a subtle note of genuine frustration lingered beneath the humor; her peaceful, exclusive inn had been completely derailed by the toxic fallout of Clara's marriage.

The words had barely cleared her lips when the heavy timber of the front gates slammed against the stone walls with a deafening crash.

Ethan marched back into the courtyard, his features dark and rigid with a dangerous fury. The absolute second he breached the perimeter, his eyes locked onto Sasha with lethal intensity, his voice dropping into a freezing snap: "Who gave you authorization to track my vehicle here?"

Sasha acted entirely as though his dangerous rage did not exist, her eyes burning with a volatile mix of fury and desperate resentment as she stared up at him, screaming back, "You have spent weeks systematically evading my calls, Ethan!"

As she spat the words, she whipped her arm around to point a trembling finger straight at Clara, her eyes dripping with pure venom as she shrieked, "Is it because of her?! Is that bloodless bitch the reason you refuse to look at me?!"

Sasha’s wild accusation merely prompted Clara to lift her palms in a loose, casual gesture of complete innocence.

She possessed absolutely zero desire to participate in the sordid, chaotic theater of Ethan and Sasha's imploding affair; within her own mind, the chapter of her marriage had closed with absolute finality, and her attention was focused entirely on securing a swift, clinical exit from the wreckage.

Staring at Sasha's unhinged, hysterical performance, the lines of Ethan's face hardened into a mask of pure disgust, his voice lifting into a thunderous, freezing register that left no room for doubt. "Did the words fail to register when I documented them for you?"

"The absolute only woman who holds my heart is Clara. You were never anything more than a disposable source of physical entertainment."

The declaration sliced through the air like a razor-sharp blade, striking Sasha straight in the throat.

He was entirely done tolerating her presence, desperate to force her into realizing that in the grand calculus of his existence, Clara was the only entity of true value, while his chapters with Sasha were nothing more than a grotesque, embarrassing aberration he intended to erase.