Chapter two

Elias blinked, the shock vanishing from his face as it was replaced by an unreadable mask of polite indifference. Elijah had always been the calmer, more composed one. He simply leaned back against the cushions.

"My apologies, Ethan," Elias said with a faint, courteous smile that never reached his eyes. "It's just a bit of a surprise. Clara's family and ours were neighbors years ago before we moved our primary operations to London. We haven't seen her in five years.”

"Neighbors," Ethan repeated, pausing for a minute before letting out a dismissive, arrogant chuckle. "Is that so? It’s a small world. Well, since you already know her, I should formally introduce her. Gentlemen, Clara is my wife."

The word "wife" dropped like a live grenade into the center of the room. 

Elijah, who hadn't taken his piercing gaze off me since I walked through the doors, tilted his head. A smirk that I used to trace with my fingertips slowly curled onto his lips, but his eyes were deadly cold. He looked from my plain, conservative purple dress and the serving tray in my hands, directly to Sophie, who was still perched intimately on the armrest of Ethan's chair.

"Your wife?" Elijah echoed, his voice dripping with mock confusion and wit. "Forgive me, Ethan. I must be jet-lagged. I assumed the stunning woman draped over your shoulder, who was barking orders at your staff when we arrived, was Mrs. Hayes. Tell me, is polygamy suddenly legal in New York? Do you have two wives?”

Sophie’s perfectly contoured face instantly turned the color of a bruised plum. She snatched her hand back from Ethan’s shoulder as if she’d been burned. 

Ethan stiffened, his pride visibly stung. He hated being questioned by anyone. 

"Sophie is my... close companion. Ours is a modern arrangement, Elijah. Clara handles the domestic affairs of the estate."

"Domestic affairs," Elijah murmured, brow arched.

His eyes flicked to the heavy tray in my trembling hands. "I'm sorry, but so your wife serves the tea while your companion sits on your lap. How incredibly... traditional of you, Ethan."

"Clara prefers to keep busy," Ethan cut in sharply. What a lying husband.

He gestured toward the table. "The tea, Clara. Our guests are waiting."

My feet moved on pure, painful instinct. I stepped forward, forcing my spine straight and refusing to let Ethan see how badly this was breaking me. I carefully lowered the heavy silver tray onto the glass coffee table.

"It’s lovely to see you both again," I forced out, my voice sounding entirely foreign to my own ears. 

"The pleasure is all ours, Clara," Elias replied softly, though there was more to the way he said my name.

I gulped, picking up the silver teapot and poured Ethan’s cup first, then Sophie’s, entirely ignoring the venomous glare she was shooting at the back of my head. Then, I moved to the opposite side of the table. 

I poured a cup for Elias, handing it to him. His fingers grazed the edge of the saucer, eyes fixed on me. 

I turned to Elijah, ignoring Elias’ gaze. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the porcelain cup as I poured the steaming Earl Grey. 

As I handed him the saucer, he didn't reach for the tea cup. Instead, Elijah’s large, warm hand deliberately caught my wrist, sending unwanted sensations shooting straight up my arm. My breath hitched audibly in the quiet room as his thumb brushed against my racing pulse point. The touch was brief, entirely hidden from Ethan and Sophie’s angle, but it burned through my skin. 

I met his gaze. His dark eyes searched my pale face, looking past the severe bun and the awful purple dress, as though trying to find the broken girl hidden beneath them.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hayes," Elijah murmured, letting go of my wrist and taking the tea. 

"If there’s nothing else, Ethan, I have matters to attend to in the kitchen," I said quickly, taking a desperate step backward. 

Ethan waved a dismissive hand. "Go. And ensure the guest suites in the East Wing are flawless."

I didn't wait for another dismissal. I turned and walked out of the living room with as much dignity as I could muster, but the second the heavy doors closed behind me, I practically sprinted down the hallway. 

I rushed into the kitchen, completely ignoring Mrs. Higgins and the prep cook, then pushed through the back doors into the sprawling gardens. I collapsed onto a cold stone bench hidden behind the tall wall and buried my face in my hands, chest heaving.

They are here. Months. Ethan said they were staying for damned months. 

Five years ago, I’d broken my own heart to save them. I‘d watched them turn on each other, two halves of the same soul, tearing each other apart just to win my affection. I couldn't bear to be the poison that destroyed their family, so I’d vanished. I left a cruel, calculated letter telling them I had merely been playing a game, that I loved neither of them, and that they were fools for believing otherwise. 

It was the greatest lie I’d ever told. 

And now, they were going to be sleeping under my husband's roof. My husband, who treated me like dirt. My husband, who had just humiliated me in front of the only two men who had ever treated me like a queen.

………….

The rest of the day was an absolute nightmare. 

I spent hours personally supervising the maids as they cleaned the East Wing suites. I fluffed the pillows, arranged the fresh orchids, and acted the part of the perfect, submissive wife, exactly as Ethan demanded. 

By nine that night, the Hayes mansion had fallen silent. Mrs. Higgins told me Ethan had taken the twins to an exclusive cigar lounge in Manhattan, supposedly to discuss their billion-dollar merger. Sophie had disappeared into the master bedroom hours earlier, where she was likely watching television and sipping champagne, as usual.

I was completely exhausted. My feet throbbed inside my shoes as I made my way down the dimly lit second-floor hallway, toward my bedroom at the end of it, desperate for a few hours of sleep.

As I passed the grand staircase, Ethan’s words from the night before echoed in my mind like a dark, seductive poison. 

‘And you can. I never stopped you. Until you find yourself a “distraction”’

I stopped walking, glancing down at my dress and at my hands. I’d spent years being faithful to a man who didn't even want me. I’d endured Sophie’s insults and her arrogant presence because I thought loyalty was the right thing to do. 

But what had my loyalty bought me? A life in a cage. 

At this point, I think I need a glass of water. A very cold glass of water to calm my nerves .

I turned around and quietly made my way back down the staircase. I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the kitchen. 

"You always look beautiful, Clara. Even when you're dressing like a nun to appease a man who doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you."

I gasped, spinning around so fast my heel caught on the rug. 

Standing in the shadows of the arched doorway, completely blending into the darkness, was a towering figure. He stepped forward into the shaft of moonlight. 

Elijah. 

He’d discarded his suit jacket and tie. His crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscular forearms. He held a glass of red wine in one hand, watching me with terrifying intensity. 

"Elijah," I breathed, my heart immediately kicking into a frantic, chaotic rhythm. "You... you are supposed to be in the city with Ethan."

"I got bored," Elijah said smoothly. He took a slow sip of his wine, his eyes never leaving mine. "Ethan talks too much. He boasts. He puffs his chest like a peacock trying to prove his worth. I suddenly found myself much more interested in the domestic affairs of the Hayes Mansion."

He took a slow, deliberate step toward me and I took a step back, my spine hitting the hallway wall. 

"You shouldn't be down here. If Ethan comes home—"

"Ethan isn't coming home for hours, Clara," Elijah interrupted, his voice dropping low. 

He closed the distance between us, boxing me in. He placed his hand flat against the wall beside my head, leaning in until I could smell the intoxicating mix of the wine he'd been drinking and his familiar, woodsy cologne. "And even if he did, why would he care? He made it very clear tonight that he's entirely occupied with his blonde parasite."

"Elijah, please," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut to block out his handsome face. "Don't do this. You shouldn't even be talking to me. Not after what I did to you and Elias. Not after that letter."

Elijah let out a quiet humorless laugh. That letter," he murmured. I felt his warm breath feather against my ear as he leaned closer, his lips mere inches from my jaw. "The letter where you told us you never loved us. A very dramatic exit, Clara. Almost believable."

My eyes snapped open. "It was the truth."

"Liar," Elijah breathed.

He moved so fast I didn't have time to react. His free hand shot out, his long fingers tangling in the severe bun at the back of my head. With a sharp tug, he pulled the pins loose, letting my long hair cascade wildly over my shoulders. 

I gasped, my hands flying up to push his chest uselessly. 

"You ran because you were scared," Elijah stated, eyes blazing with five years of unrelenting obsession. "You ran because you thought you were saving Elias and I. But you didn't save us, Clara. You just left me bleeding."

"Let me go," I choked out, a tear slipping down my cheek. 

Elijah didn't move away. Instead, he leaned his forehead against mine, the anger in his eyes morphing into a raw, burning hunger that terrified me more than anything else. 

"I wanted to hate you," Elijah whispered, his thumb slowly wiping the tear from my cheek. "I spent five years trying to hate you. And then I walk into this house, and I see you serving tea to your husband's mistress." 

“Elijah, I'm not comp—”

"Ethan is a fool," he cut me off, his voice dropping to a lethal, seductive whisper. "I heard a very interesting rumor in the city tonight, Clara. A rumor about the terms of your marriage. Is it true?"

My heartbeat quickened, "What... what are you talking about?"

Elijah’s smirk returned, undeniably knowing as he leaned in. "I heard you both are in an open marriage," Elijah whispered against my lips. "Which means... you're fair game, Mrs. Hayes. And this time, I’m not going to let you run.”