Divorced into the arms of his twin rivals

For the first time in a month since my husband's mistress, Sophie Grant, moved into the Hayes Mansion, he stood outside my bedroom door.

Wondering why I allowed that?

Well, Ethan declared our marriage an open one the night before our wedding, and I had no choice but to agree. Even so, I never once cheated on him.

I turned sharply on the bed, backing the door. My heart stupidly convinced itself that he'd finally missed me, missed how good I fuck him, or maybe he just wanted an explanation for the cold silence I’d worn ever since Sophie moved into the mansion and even took over the master bedroom.

The door opened, and I heard his footsteps as he walked in.

“Clara." 

He paused, obviously waiting for a response, but I didn't respond nor turn around. I stayed where I was, clinging to the foolish hope that he'd come to me, pull me into his arms, kiss me, fuck the ache out of me. God knew how badly I needed sex. Every night Sophie’s moans drifted through the walls, the craving only grew sharper. I cried in silence, knowing there was nothing I could do.

“Clara, I'm sure you can hear me.” Ethan continued, his deep, authoritative voice utterly devoid of warmth. “Two business partners will be moving into this house tomorrow.”

My heart, which had been fluttering with desperate anticipation just seconds earlier, dropped heavily into my stomach. I slowly pushed myself up on my elbows, the silk sheets pooling around my waist. 

Dim moonlight filtered through the curtains, highlighting the sharp, handsome features of Ethan's face and making my heart race. Dressed in nothing but a pair of expensive silk pajama bottoms, his broad, bare chest made him look like a Greek god who couldn't care less about the woman staring at him. 

Clearly, he wasn't here for me, he was here to issue an order.

“Business partners?” I repeated, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. “Ethan, we have more than a dozen guest houses on the estate. Why do they need to stay in the main mansion?”

“Because this is a billion-dollar negotiation,” Ethan replied coolly, walking to the foot of my bed. “They're incredibly important, and having them stay here gives me complete control over the environment. I expect you to be the perfect hostess. No drama, Clara. And absolutely no cold shoulders.”

My grip tightened on the bedsheets involuntarily.

“You want me to be the perfect hostess?” I asked, a bitter laugh escaping me. “What about Sophie? She already acts like the lady of this house. She uses my kitchen, orders the maids around, and even sleeps in my husband's bed. Why don't you have her entertain your guests instead?”

Ethan's jaw tightened. "Sophie is my guest, and you're my wife. Even though it's on paper, Clara. You signed a contract huh? I paid off your family's crushing debts, and in return, you agreed to manage the domestic side of my life whenever I required it. This is one of those times."

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall anyway. Ethan doesn't deserve to see me cry.

"You told me our marriage was open," I said, my voice trembling with restrained hurt. "You told me I was free to live my own life.”

"And you can," Ethan shot back smoothly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I never stopped you. But until you find yourself a distraction, you will fulfill your obligations under this roof. Tomorrow afternoon, you will personally ensure their suites are prepared. You will serve them when they arrive. Do we understand each other?"

Before I could force a bitter “yes” past my lips, Sophie's whiny voice echoed from the hallway outside. 

"Honey? Are you in there?"

Ethan's cold gaze softened instantly. I couldn't help wondering if that bitch had worked some kind of voodoo on my husband. All I could say was "Wow.”

"You should get some sleep now, Clara," he said flatly. 

Without sparing me another glance, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving me to watch in silent despair. A moment later, the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind him, and the suffocating silence that followed seemed to steal the very air from my lungs.

I buried my face in my pillow and finally let the tears fall.

I’d sacrificed my freedom, my dreams, my heart, and every last shred of my pride to save my family from ruin. And this was all I had to show for it—a husband who treated me like nothing more than a live-in employee, and a mansion that looked so ethereal but felt like a prison.

…………

The next morning brought no relief, only the annoying awareness of Ethan's incoming guests. 

I woke up early, my eyes red and swollen. I showered quickly and pulled on a plain, conservative purple dress, tied my hair back into a severe bun. If I was going to be treated like the help, I might as well look the part.

When I walked down the sweeping staircase and into my massive, sunlit kitchen, my stomach instantly churned. 

Sophie was sitting at the marble kitchen island, wearing one of Ethan’s oversized white button-down shirts and absolutely nothing else. She was lazily sipping a green smoothie while the head chef frantically prepared a lavish breakfast spread. 

"Oh, look who finally decided to wake up," Sophie sneered, tracing the rim of her glass with a perfectly manicured green nail. "I hope you are ready to work today, Clara. Ethan’s guests are arriving at noon, and I absolutely refuse to let you embarrass us in front of them with your sluggish nature."

I walked past her, ignoring the disrespect in my kitchen, and opened the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. 

"I know my responsibilities, Sophie. You don't need to remind me."

"Someone has to," Sophie laughed, hopping off the barstool. She walked over to me, invading my personal space. Her expensive, heavy perfume filled my lungs and I almost sneezed. 

"You walk around this house like a sad little ghost. It’s pathetic, really. Ethan told me you practically begged him to sleep with you last night with your body language."

My breath hitched, my hands shaking violently as I gripped the plastic water bottle. He actually told his mistress about my weakest, most vulnerable moment.

"I don't want to fight with you, Sophie," I said, my voice completely hollow. 

"We aren't fighting, Clara," Sophie smiled cruelly, patting my pale cheek in a mockingly affectionate gesture. "I’m just giving you a reality check. You are just a business transaction. I am the woman he actually loves. Now, be a good girl and make sure the Earl Grey is perfectly brewed. The guests will be here in an hour."

She turned on her heel and strutted out of the kitchen, leaving me entirely paralyzed with a mixture of burning rage and deep, profound grief. 

I shruggingly spent the next hour working in absolute silence. I polished the antique silver tea set until I could perfectly see my own miserable reflection in the metal. 

I arranged the imported pastries on a tiered porcelain stand. I did everything perfectly, exactly as Ethan demanded, because I had absolutely no power to do anything else. 

At exactly 12:15 PM, the heavy tires of luxury vehicles crunched against the gravel of the driveway. 

"They are here," Mrs. Higgins, the head housekeeper, whispered nervously as she rushed past me in the kitchen. "The master is already waiting for them in the main living room. He requested the tea tray immediately."

"I have it," I murmured. 

I grabbed the heavy handles of the massive silver tray. It was incredibly heavy, the delicate porcelain cups rattling slightly against the saucers as I lifted it. I took a deep, steadying breath. 

Just serve the tea, nod politely, and disappear back into your room, I told myself. 

I pushed through the swinging wooden doors of the kitchen and walked down the long, Persian-carpeted hallway that led to the living room. Thank goodness, the massive double doors were pushed wide open. 

As I approached, I could hear Ethan’s deep, confident voice echoing through the space.

"Gentlemen, I am thrilled you agreed to stay at the estate. The Hayes Group is fully committed to making this merger the most profitable venture of the decade."

A smooth voice replied, "The environment is certainly... luxurious, Ethan. Though I must admit, we are very particular about the company we keep."

I stopped cold. My heart slammed against my ribs.

That voice…

I'd know it even in death. It had haunted my dreams for five years.

Ethan chuckled. "Then you'll have my full attention. Ah, the tea will soon be here."

I forced my feet forward, curious. Stepping into the living room, I found Ethan lounging in the white leather armchair with a glass of scotch. Sophie sat perched on the armrest beside him, one hand draped possessively over his shoulder.

Across from them, two men occupied the opposite sofa. I looked up and my heart skipped a beat.

Matching Italian suits. Matching sharp jawlines. The same dark hair. The same piercing eyes I'd once memorized over and over.

Elias and Elijah Knight.

The identical twins who had once loved me enough to become rivals. Elijah was the one who had taken my virginity—my tempest, my first love. Then Elias fell for me too, and everything between the brothers fell apart.

Elijah froze while Elias slowly lowered the file in his hands, all composure draining from his face.

Their eyes locked on mine. The silver tray almost slipped from my numb fingers but I gripped it firmly.

"What's going on?" Ethan asked, brows knitted together as his gaze shifted between the knights and me. He hated not being the smartest person in the room, and hated being left out of the loop even more. 

I gripped the tray tighter, unable to speak. 

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