After coming back from the hospital, Clara Whitfield went straight into the kitchen and cooked a whole table full of dishes, every single one of them Adrian Mercer’s favorites. Then she carefully placed the pregnancy test report right in the most noticeable spot on the dining table.

She was pregnant.

Three years into their marriage, she finally had her first baby with Adrian.

He’d be just as happy as she was... right? Clara rested her chin in her hand, her eyes shining. The joy in her heart was so full it was basically spilling out.

Then a pair of headlights sliced through the night.

Clara looked up and saw Adrian’s black Bentley slowly pulling up in front of the villa.

Her heart skipped. She turned and hurried outside, not even stopping to grab a coat. She just wanted to tell Adrian the news first thing, right away, before anything else.

"Careful. Slow down. There’s a step."

That low, gentle voice drifted into Clara’s ears.

She froze on the spot.

The smile on her face stiffened instantly.

Under the porch light, Adrian’s tall, elegant figure was bent ever so slightly as he carefully shielded a petite woman by his side.

"Look at you, all nervous. I’m not that fragile, okay?" the woman said with a sweet, playful tone. Her face was tiny, delicate, and pretty enough to turn heads even without makeup.

Isabelle Thornton.

Adrian’s first love.

The white moonlight he had buried in his heart.

And now... she was back.

"Adrian..." Clara’s voice trembled as she spoke. In one second, all the happiness inside her got drowned by panic.

Adrian lifted his eyes and gave her a flat look. His sharp brows drew together slightly. That handsome face of his, which had just been warm and gentle a second ago, turned cold and distant the moment he saw her.

"Clara, long time no see," Isabelle said with a smile, greeting her like an old friend.

But Clara couldn’t smile at all.

She kept staring at Adrian, stubbornly, as if she still wanted one answer she could hold on to. "Why did you bring her here?"

"Isabelle is pregnant. She’ll be staying here for now," Adrian said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Only then did Clara notice the slight curve of Isabelle’s lower belly.

Her breathing stopped for a beat.

It felt like an invisible hand had closed around her heart and squeezed hard.

"I’m sorry, Clara," Isabelle said softly, guilt all over her face. "I didn’t want to tell Adrian about this baby at first. But... I just couldn’t bear to get rid of it. Don’t worry. Once the baby is born, I’ll leave. I definitely won’t cause you any trouble."

"You don’t need to worry about her," Adrian said, his gaze falling back onto Isabelle. He didn’t look at Clara again. "You’re carrying the Mercer family’s eldest grandson. Of course you should have the best care."

Then he added in an easy, protective tone, "Let’s go inside."

The Mercer family’s eldest grandson?

Clara went completely still.

It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head.

Cold rushed from the top of her skull all the way down to her feet.

"Move."

Adrian Mercer's voice was icy, each word dropping like a blade.

"I’m your wife. And this is my home too!" Clara Whitfield’s chest heaved. She stood stubbornly in the doorway, refusing to budge, her eyes already red. "If I don’t agree, then she doesn’t get to stay here!"

"Clara Whitfield, don’t make me say it again. Move."

His tone shot up all at once, the anger he’d been holding back now hanging by a thread.

"Forget it, Adrian... I should just leave." Isabelle Thornton took a step back, looking crushed. Tears slipped down her face without warning, like she’d been wronged beyond words.

The sight of her fake, pitiful act made Clara feel physically sick. She pointed at Isabelle and snapped, "Then go! Don’t think I can’t see what you’re doing! Isabelle Thornton, stealing someone else’s husband—is that fun for you?"

"I’m sorry! I’m sorry!" Isabelle suddenly shoved away Adrian’s arm from around her, covered her mouth, and ran out.

"Isabelle!" Adrian reacted instantly and started after her, but Clara grabbed him hard.

Her face was soaked in tears. She lifted her head and looked at him, voice shaking. "You still love her, don’t you? And the baby... the baby is really yours, isn’t it?"

"What does that have to do with you?" Adrian’s beautiful features were filled with nothing but cold impatience. "Let go."

"Then what am I to you?" Despair flooded Clara’s eyes, but her fingers still clung to him like she was hanging off the edge of a cliff. Her voice dropped low, almost pleading. "Did you really never love me? Not even a little?"

Adrian looked down at her from above. His dark eyes held no softness, not even a trace. He asked, slow and cruel, "What do you think? Clara Whitfield, don’t forget why we got married."

In that second, Clara felt like she’d been dropped straight into an ice cellar.

How ridiculous. She had actually believed that after all these years, even a block of ice would’ve melted a little in her hands. Turns out she’d been deluding herself from start to finish. Adrian Mercer had never given her his heart. Not once.

Clara let out a bleak laugh. "If that’s the case, then let’s get divorced."

Adrian had already turned to go after Isabelle, but her words made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Clara Whitfield, don’t play hard to get with me." He shot her a warning look, then said to the housekeeper who had followed them out, "Mr. Andrews, keep an eye on her. Until I’m back, she’s not allowed to leave this house for even one step."

Clara was so angry she laughed. "Adrian Mercer, I don’t want you anymore. This divorce is happening, no matter what. Believe it or not, I can sue you for cheating during the marriage!"