Chapter three

My traitorous body betrayed me. Starved of affection and aching with a desperate, humiliating loneliness, I found myself leaning toward him without realizing it. For one terrifying second, I wanted to close the tiny distance between us, grab the lapels of his open shirt, pull him down, and let the tempest consume me all over again.

Then reality came crashing back.

I wasn't a toy to be passed from one man to another. I wasn't a pawn for men to claim simply because my husband treated our vows like a disposable napkin. I was worth more than that, even if I'd almost forgotten it.

I placed both of my hands firmly against Elijah’s hard chest and shoved him with every ounce of strength I had left. He was so surprised by the sudden violence of my rejection that he actually stumbled a half-step backward, his wine sloshing dangerously near the rim of his glass. 

"I am not a game, Elijah," I hissed, voice trembling. "And I am certainly not yours to claim just because my husband is an asshole."

Elijah quickly regained his composure, the playful amusement in his dark eyes disappearing in an instant. His gaze swept slowly over me from head to toe.

"I never said you were a game, Clara," he said, his voice losing its teasing edge. He took a slow step back, giving me the space I so desperately needed. "I said you were fair game. There's a difference." His eyes held mine. "You've spent years burying yourself alive in this mausoleum. I'm just letting you know... I brought a shovel.”

I didn't have a response to that. I couldn't formulate a single coherent thought while he was standing there looking like a dark, fallen angel in my hallway. 

I spun on my heel and practically ran down the corridor. I didn't stop until I reached my room, slamming the door shut and locking it. I collapsed back against the wood, sliding down until I hit the floor. 

That night, after my bath, I didn't sleep a single wink. Elijah’s words from the dark hallway "fair game” echoed in my mind relentlessly. 

As the early morning hours crept in, the terrified, submissive wife I’d been playing slowly dissolved, leaving behind a cold, hard clarity. 

It was 5:00 AM, the only time of day Ethan was ever truly quiet, the only time his mind wasn't entirely consumed by billion-dollar mergers and corporate warfare. 

I decided I was going to walk into that master bedroom, sit him down, and firmly tell him that letting the knights stay in this mansion wasn't a good idea with tangible reasons… gosh.

I pulled my silk robe tightly around my waist and walked barefoot down the long corridor toward the master suite. 

But as I approached, ready to knock on the door, a sharp, breathless sound stopped me dead in my tracks, sending an unwanted shiver down my core.

"Ahhhnn… oh God... Ethan... you're driving me insane."

Sophie’s high-pitched, ecstatic moan echoed through the thick wood, followed immediately by the loud, rhythmic “thwack” of flesh slapping against flesh. I even heard the headboard banging violently against the wall. 

A sickening knot formed in my stomach, but I was entirely paralyzed, completely unable to pull myself away. 

"Ouu, mmm, Ahhh… does Clara ever fuck you like this, Honey?" Sophie panted breathlessly. "Does she ever make you feel this good?"

The silence that followed was agonizing, broken only by Ethan’s deep, guttural grunts as he kept banging his mistress. 

"Don't talk about her," Ethan growled roughly. "That bitch could never."

The words hit me hard.

I clamped my hand tightly over my mouth to stifle the raw, humiliating sob clawing its way up my throat. 

My entire body physically ached. For months, he'd starved me of affection, of touch, of pure, unfiltered pleasure, while I kept holding onto the pathetic hope that my loyalty would eventually earn his respect. And this was my reward. He was degrading me to his mistress while fucking her hard. 

I spun and fled back to my room, completely blinded by hot, angry tears, and violently locked the door. I collapsed onto the edge of my mattress, my body trembling with a desperate, suffocating need. 

God, I’m so horny right now. I was starving for the heat I’d felt radiating from Elijah just hours ago. And now, overhearing their moans has worsened it. I needed to feel something hard inside me. I was tired of this emotional torture.

With tears streaming down my flushed cheeks, I sank back against the pillows. Ethan’s cold voice still echoed in my head, so I shut it out the only way I could. My trembling hands slipped beneath the silk of my robe, seeking the heat between my thighs.

I closed my eyes and let the memory take over—Elijah pinning me hard against the wall, those dark eyes burning with pure, unrelenting obsession. Two fingers slid between my slick folds, then pushed deep inside. I curled them, stroking that sensitive spot over and over while my thumb circled my clit in tight, desperate rhythm.

A quiet, broken whimper escaped my lips as I arched off the mattress, fucking myself harder, faster. I chased it desperately, hoping the climax would crash through me in a blinding wave—sharp, intense, leaving me shaking and breathless against the sheets.

But nothing happened.

No matter how deep I pushed or how roughly I worked my clit, the edge stayed just out of reach. I’d never been able to come from my own fingers. My body knew what it needed, and it wasn’t this. It needed a man’s thick cock stretching me open, filling me until I broke.

Thank goodness, I finally stilled, hand slipping free, breath ragged. The tears had stopped.

I wiped my face and, in the quiet aftermath, made my decision. The pain was gone, replaced by a cold, burning resolve.

Ethan Hayes wanted an open marriage? Fine. I would give him exactly what he asked for. I was done serving. Done hiding. I would embrace the open marriage and treat it like the business transaction he had always claimed our marriage was.

By 9:00 a.m., the morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the grand dining room.

I didn't wear any of my conservative outfits anymore. Instead, I had on a sleek black bikini, covered by a sheer green silk wrap that left very little to the imagination. My dark hair fell in loose, effortless waves down my back.

I pushed open the dining room doors.

Ethan was sitting at the head of the table, reading a financial newspaper. Sophie was beside him, looking smug and entirely satisfied in her pink robe. The moment she saw me, her expression shifted to one of disbelief.

Across from them sat Elias, quietly sipping black coffee. His eyes slowly traveled over me, taking in every detail. 

Elijah was absent. 

Ethan didn't even look up as I walked in. "You're late, Clara. Where is the tea? My guests have a busy schedule today, and I expect the breakfast service to be flawless."

I didn't walk toward the silver serving tray on the sideboard. I walked directly to the table, my bare feet silent against the marble, and poured myself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. 

"I'm not serving today," I said calmly, taking a slow sip of my juice. "Not tomorrow either. Or any other day."

Ethan slowly lowered his newspaper. His dark eyes widened as they took in my sheer cover-up and the curves visible beneath it.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

Elias raised an amused eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched.

"You heard me," I said, offering him a cold, empty smile. "If your companion is too exhausted from her... nightly and early morning activities to pour the tea, I suggest you call Mrs. Higgins or Zoe the cook. I am officially off the clock."

Sophie gasped, shooting me a stabbing glare.

"Clara, what the hell has come over you?" Ethan snapped, his authoritative mask slipping to reveal pure, unadulterated shock. He stood up slowly from his chair. "You will go to the kitchen, and you will bring the tea. Now."

"No," I replied calmly. "Even your grandmother wouldn't let me serve you like a maid if she were home. Honestly, I cannot wait for her physical therapy to be over so she can return and see exactly what a circus you've turned this mansion into."

Ethan’s jaw clenched so tightly. Mentioning Victoria Hayes was the ultimate strike as she was the only person on earth Ethan truly feared. 

Before he could explode, I set my juice glass down with a sharp clink. 

"Besides, Ethan," I purred, offering him a lethal, completely genuine smirk. "You told me to find a distraction huh? I've finally found a perfect one."

His expression darkened by the second. For the first time in years, Ethan Hayes looked completely speechless.

"You've found... what?" he asked quietly.

"A distraction," I repeated. "Exactly what you told me to do."

Sophie's smug expression shattered. The confidence she'd been wearing all morning drained from her face.

"What is she talking about?" Sophie demanded, looking between Ethan and me. "Ethan?"

Ethan ignored her completely. His gaze remained fixed on me, hard, sharp, and unmistakably possessive.

"You're pathetic," he said coldly. "Behave yourself. We have a guest sitting right here."

"I'm simply following your instructions," I replied calmly. "You wanted an open marriage. I'm finally embracing it."

"Clara!" he roared.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Across the table, Elias slowly set down his coffee cup. The amusement hadn't left his face, but there was unmistakable curiosity in his eyes now.

I picked up my glass, finished the last sip of juice, and set it back on the table with deliberate calm.

"I'm going shopping," I announced. "Enjoy your breakfast."

Without waiting for permission, I turned and walked toward the dining room doors.

I could feel every pair of eyes on me. I deliberately added a little more wiggle to my ass, letting the sheer emerald silk cling to every confident step as I walked away without a single glance back.

Behind me came the sharp scrape of Ethan's chair against the marble floor.

"Clara!" he barked.

I didn't stop.

Sophie's panicked voice followed immediately after.

"Ethan, let her go! She's just trying to make you angry!"

Obviously, the son of a bitch couldn't handle the taste of his own medicine. How pathetic. 

And this was only the tip of the iceberg.