Chapter 5

Clara stood frozen by the window, her pulse thudding in her ears as the front doors below swung open and shut.

She turned away from the glass, heading into the master bathroom to wash her face. She splashed cold water over her skin, patting it dry with a towel. The anger from earlier was gone, replaced by a quiet, cautious reserve. She needed to handle this calmly.

When she walked down the grand staircase into the warm light of the main foyer, the house was silent save for the clatter of silverware from the formal dining room.

Clara stepped into the archway. Evelyn was already seated at the head of the dark mahogany table, a steaming bowl of soup set before her. Alexander stood near the sideboard, speaking in a low voice to one of the senior housekeepers.

"Make sure the guest suite in the west wing is fully prepared," Alexander instructed quietly. "Fresh linens, and ensure the heating is adjusted properly."

"Right away, Mr. Vance," the housekeeper replied, bowing slightly before hurrying off toward the stairs.

Alexander turned, his eyes catching Clara standing in the doorway. His expression tightened instantly, his shoulders rigid. Without a word of greeting or explanation, he checked his watch. "I'm going upstairs to shower and change. Don't make a scene, Clara."

He brushed past her, his heavy footsteps echoing up the marble stairs.

Clara swallowed down the knot forming in her throat and walked over to the table, taking a seat opposite Evelyn. The silence between them stretched thin. Remembering her composure, Clara kept her voice measured and polite.

"How are you feeling, Evelyn?" Clara asked softly. “How is the baby doing?"

Evelyn set her spoon down with a soft clink against the porcelain. She leaned back, resting her chin on her hand, a faint, sharp smile touching her lips. Her eyes held none of the frailty she had displayed earlier at the office.

"Why the sudden concern, Clara?" Evelyn asked, her tone smooth, light, and dripping with subtle condescension. "Are you actually worried about me, or are you just trying to figure out how long I'll be staying in your lovely home?"

Clara stiffened, taken aback by the sudden edge in the woman's voice. "I was simply asking a polite question—"

"Save it," Evelyn interrupted gently, tilting her head as if pitying her. "You don't have to play the gracious hostess for my benefit. Alexander brought me here because he knows where I belong right now. If that pushes your buttons, that's really between you and your husband, isn't it?"

The words hit like a quiet slap. Clara’s breath caught, her hands tightening into fists under the edge of the table. She knew Evelyn had no right to talk to her this way in her own home, but fighting with a pregnant guest while Alexander was upstairs would only give him another reason to blame her.

Clara pressed her lips together, taking a slow breath, and chose silence.

A few minutes later, Alexander returned, taking his seat at the head of the table. Dinner proceeded in oppressive silence. Evelyn ate quietly, occasionally offering Alexander small, grateful glances, while Clara barely touched the food on her plate.

As soon as the meal ended, Evelyn excused herself, guided upstairs to the west wing by the housekeeper.

Clara waited until the dining room cleared before making her way up to the master suite. She opened the door to find Alexander standing by his dresser, unbuttoning his cuffs.

"Alexander," Clara said, closing the door firmly behind her.

He didn't look up. "If you're going to start an argument, Clara, I'm not in the mood."

"I am not starting an argument," Clara said, her voice trembling slightly despite her efforts. "I am asking you a reasonable question as your wife. Why did you bring that woman to live in our home without even telling me? You are helping a widow—I understand that—but bringing her into our private house crosses a line."

Alexander turned slowly, his jaw set, his gaze icy. "She is vulnerable, her apartment lease ended, and she has nowhere else to go right now. I have a duty to ensure she is looked after."

"A duty?" Clara took a step closer, hurt burning behind her eyes. "What about your duty to me? You humiliated me at your office today, Alexander! And now I walk downstairs to find a stranger sitting at our dining table, acting like she owns the place!"

"She is not a stranger, and she is pregnant!" Alexander snapped, his voice rising sharply. "Must you be so heartless, Clara? Every time I try to do what is right, you turn it into a personal attack on your ego!"

"Heartless?!" Clara gasped, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "I have given you everything! I have stayed quiet while you neglect me, while you ignore me, while you hide things from me—"

"That is enough!" Alexander's voice boomed through the quiet bedroom, shutting her down completely. He stared at her, his breathing heavy, his expression cold and unreadable. "I am tired of your constant suspicion. I brought her here so she could be looked after properly. If you cannot handle that with basic human empathy, then that is your flaw, not mine."

The harshness of his words hung thick in the air.

Clara stood frozen, the harsh accusations ringing in her ears. Looking at his rigid posture and the absolute distance in his eyes, a familiar, desperate guilt began to creep into her chest. Was she being selfish? Was she letting her pain cloud her judgment?

"I'm... I'm sorry," Clara whispered, her voice breaking as she looked down at the floor, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I didn't mean to raise my voice. I just... I miss you, Alexander. I feel like I'm losing you."

Alexander said nothing at first, turning toward the bedside table with his back to her. He adjusted the rolled cuff of his dark silk lounge shirt, his silence stretching long enough to make the air in the room feel suffocating.

"She is only staying for two days," Alexander said finally, his tone flat, emotionless, and clipped. "Her apartment lease expired, and the private residence I arranged for her won't be ready until the weekend. Once the keys are ready, she leaves. It's temporary, Clara. That's all."

A long, slow breath escaped Clara’s chest, the knot of panic tightening in her heart loosening just a fraction. Two days. She could endure two days if it meant there was a clear end in sight—a boundary that kept her marriage from completely falling apart.

"Two days," Clara repeated softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked at him, desperately searching his eyes for any flicker of warmth or reassurance. "Okay... two days."

Alexander didn't offer a nod, nor did his expression soften. He simply turned away, walking toward the adjoining study and leaving Clara standing alone in the quiet shadows of the bedroom.