Chapter 2 What are you doing here?

Clara

My finger hovered above the screen ready to swipe away what I automatically assumed was a spam message when I froze.

Below the message, tons of pictures started coming in. At first, they were of Ronan alone, eating, working, smiling.

He looked relaxed in those pictures, the perpetual crease between his brows and the unending straight line of his lips were nowhere to be seen. He looked.. happy.

The next round of pictures were different.

I saw her, a beautiful red head, sitting right on Ronan’s lap while he sat on a pink sofa. In the picture, his hand circled around her waist, holding her protectively to his chest as if she were as fragile as an egg.

It was the classic pose of a couple deep in love, but it looked a little blurry as if it’d been taken by a hidden camera.

I drew in a deep breath and kept scrolling down, picture after picture filling my eyes.

There was one picture where he held her hand and kissed it, love blooming in his eyes.

Since we’d gotten married, I’d never seen him smile so broadly that small wrinkles formed around his eyes. He’d never looked at me as tenderly as he was looking at the woman in the picture, never held me that tightly except when we were in bed.

I drew in a deep breath to steady myself, then dialed the number. It went straight to voicemail. Clenching my teeth, I reopened the message and typed, ‘Who are you? Where did you get these pictures?’

‘What do you think?’ The sarcastic reply came back quickly. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Are you one of Ronan’s exes?’ I sent back immediately. ‘Why are you doing this?’

The notification tone sounded again and a long string of laughing emojis followed.

‘Stop lying to yourself.’ The next message said. ‘Even if you want to pretend those pictures are from his past, what about the suit he’s wearing tonight?’

She sent another picture.

In it, Ronan was faced away from the photographer, his hand around a woman’s waist. The redhead from the pictures.

I painfully swallowed past the jagged lump that’d formed in my throat and forced myself to breathe. I recognized the suit. How could I not have?

Just two days ago, I’d spent over an hour ironing it carefully, making sure it would be in perfect shape for Ronan’s business trip. I’d even gotten my hand burned while ironing and despite applying ointment immediately, the mark hadn’t yet faded from my hand.

I put my finger to the screen again, my hands shaking badly as I typed out a few words. ‘Are you the one in the pictures? What do you want?’

‘Ronan deserves better than some stray clinging onto him for scraps.” She said, ignoring my question. “Stop being shameless and let go of him. You never belonged beside him anyway.’

‘He’s my husband.’ I typed. ‘Who do you think you are to tell me to stop clinging to him?’

‘Not for long.’

I don’t know how I made it downstairs without collapsing, but I did.

“Clara!” Mark hurried to me at the foot of the staircase. He held me around my arms. “Whats wrong? You’re trembling so much. What did that useless grandson of mine say to you?”

I blinked away the warmth in my eyes, barely even feeling it as hot liquid rolled down my cheeks. “Mark, I need to borrow one of your cars.”

************************

One hour later…

“That’s her.” Someone whispered loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Ronan Carson’s wife.”

“Are you sure?” The other replied, a lift to her bleached brow as she eyed me down. “She doesn’t look like much.”

“I saw her at the wedding.” The other whispered back, laughing slightly. “She was even thinner back then. If she hadn’t been wearing a wedding dress, I would have thought she came to beg for food.”

In my simple white shirt and black pants, I couldn’t have possibly looked any more different from these people who were dressed in perfectly tailored evening suits and glittering dinner dresses.

Looking the way I was, I likely wouldn’t have made it past the gates if not for the car Mark had lent to me. The valet had been extremely polite, even using both hands to take the car keys from me.

But I couldn’t fool these ones. From childhood, they’d been raised in such wealth and luxury that instead of warm blood, only cold ice and champagne now flowed in their veins.

Like sharks scenting blood, they circled around me slowly, giving enough space to make me feel noticed, yet not enough to make me make the mistake of believing I was safe.

Within seconds of my arrival, they’d recognized me as an intruder, and made sure I knew it.

Still, I walked.

Past their turned up noses that stretched to the ceiling as if they were offended they had to breathe the same air as someone like me. Past the gloved hands that clutched their designer purses a little tighter, past the heated gazes that settled, on my face first, then my flat stomach before turning away in amusement.

I walked straight to the man who I’d handed my heart to on a silver platter, only to find out he’d tossed it straight in the trash.

Seven hundred and twenty eight days. That’s how long it’d been since Ronan and I had been married.

Several of the people gathered in this hall gawking at me like I was a clown had been at our wedding. But even back then they hadn’t hidden their distaste at the fact that I, a nobody, actually dared to marry the heir of one of the richest families in New York.

I hadn’t taken their disapproval seriously then, after all, what did the difference in our statuses matter when I loved him?

That day, I’d stood in front of the wealthiest people in New stork and declared. “I Clara Witherspoon , take you Ronan Carson as my lawfully wedded husband.

To love and support you in good times and in bad, from this day forward until death do us part.“

I stopped walking.

I was only a few feet away now, almost close enough to touch him, but my feet wouldn’t go any further.

Move, Clara! Move!

The words pounded against my skull but no matter how hard I clenched my teeth or willed my body to move, it refused to obey me.

As if finally noticing the unusual silence in the hall, Ronan turned. He’d been talking to two unfamiliar men, an easy smile on his lips that instantly dried up the moment he saw me. He excused himself from the conversation snd started walking towards me.

“Clara.” He said once he got close enough, grabbing my wrist smoothly. “What are you doing here?”