River City was already getting chilly with the fall breeze.

"I'm pregnant. Eight weeks. It's Ethan’s baby."

"Mrs. Blackwood, Ethan loves me. He never loved you. All you have is that title—his wife, nothing more."

"You’ve been married to Ethan for three years and still no kid. How are you not embarrassed holding onto that ‘Mrs. Ethan Blackwood’ name?"

…

The woman talking was decked out in designer from head to toe, loose dress, flats, flawless makeup, with two nannies and three bodyguards in tow. She stood there like a queen, looking down her nose at Clara Walton, completely full of herself.

Clara just sat quietly on the couch, watching her. Then, with a soft sigh, she looked up again—expression calm, tone even softer.

"And you are?" Clara asked with a polite smile.

Olivia Sterling froze for a second.

Clearly didn’t expect someone in River City not to recognize her. A national icon, all over the screen—Olivia figured Clara had to be playing dumb.

"Olivia Sterling." Her tone clearly annoyed. "Mrs. Blackwood, do yourself a favor and sign the divorce papers. Stop hanging onto Ethan."

She stared right at Clara, surprised by how nonchalant this supposedly gentle woman looked—completely unfazed by the threat. Like she didn’t take her seriously at all.

That unsettled Olivia a bit. Before she could come up with more, Clara stood up, giving her a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Clara walked over. "Miss Sterling, you know how many women have told me in the past year that they were pregnant with Ethan’s baby? Over thirty."

Olivia’s face shifted.

"You’re not the first. And trust me, you won’t be the last." Clara’s smile stayed.

That smile made Olivia’s skin crawl a little. Then Clara lightly placed a hand on Olivia’s stomach. Olivia tensed and took a quick step back.

"What are you doing?! Don’t touch me! I know what you’re trying to do—don’t even think about hurting my baby." Olivia looked panicked as she shielded her belly.

Clara tilted her head, still smiling. "Are you really sure this baby’s Ethan’s?"

"Of course it is!" Olivia snapped, sounding too confident.

"Alright then." Clara’s tone was pleasant. "But here’s the thing—Ethan had a vasectomy. Didn’t want any drama. So, if you’re dead sure it’s his, go ahead and have it. The Blackwoods would be happy to welcome a grandkid. They’ll treat you well."

And just like that, Olivia’s face went pale. "..."

"But...” Clara’s voice dropped colder, “if something’s off in this story, you know how serious the consequences could be, right?"

All that lazy ease in Clara’s manner disappeared. Her eyes locked onto Olivia’s, sharp and steady like she could see right through her. Olivia actually backed up a little, visibly shaken.

"You know what Ethan hates the most? Being lied to. Especially by someone trying to make him play the dad to somebody else’s kid."

Clara stopped talking then. She was already standing right in front of Olivia, but hadn’t bothered to say the rest—she didn’t need to.

And Olivia? All that fragility and fake confidence from before vanished. She turned and bolted like her life depended on it.

That was all it took. Clara had made her point, loud and clear—without Ethan even showing up, she had no problem handling people like Olivia. Wiping her off the map of River City was just a matter of effort.

…

Clara watched Olivia storm off and just sighed again.

She really was doing a great job playing the ever-capable, ever-bored Mrs. Blackwood.Clara had gone from being stunned by women showing up at her door to dealing with them in under ten minutes. Now, she didn’t even feel a sense of accomplishment—just boredom.

She glanced down, lost in thought, then casually shifted her eyes to the corner of the stairs—Ethan was there.

Of course he was. He’d seen and heard everything, but the guy looked like he was just enjoying the show. Like this mess wasn’t all his doing.

Clara gave a quiet, mocking laugh.

Suddenly, she felt an arm tighten around her waist, strong and steady, pulling her into a solid chest. That familiar mix of tobacco and cologne hit her nose—no need to look up. It was him.

“Honey,” Clara drawled softly.

Ethan responded with a low “Mm-hmm. You went to see your mom today?”

He meant Linda. Her health had been up and down lately, still in Aurelux Hospital.

Clara gave a small nod.

Before she knew it, Ethan turned her around. His lips brushed softly over hers as he spoke. She didn’t push him away—just let it happen.

Her arms naturally wrapped around his neck. She cursed herself for being so weak—saying no with her mouth, but confessing yes with her body.

And just like that, the vibe in the room changed.

“Clara,” Ethan murmured against her lips, “Why am I just now finding out I got a vasectomy?”

She froze for half a second, awkwardly smiled. “Someone had to shut her up, right?”

Three years of marriage, and Clara had basically been Ethan’s stand-in. She played nice with his family and handled all the crazy women who chased after him.

Their relationship? Plastic. Except in bed, where somehow, they just fit.

“You’ve been kinda snippy with me lately,” Ethan added.

Clara paused, then shrugged. “Wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t like dealing with those women?” He was still kissing her.

“It’s whatever. Takes ten minutes. They just repeat the same tricks—no surprise factor.” Her answer was muffled, lazy.

“…”

Ethan actually chuckled—kind of a pissed-off laugh—then bit her sharply.

It made Clara wince. She didn’t talk after that, just stayed quiet. But when things started to get heated, she couldn’t help mumbling, “You’ve got so many women hanging around, why come home and mess with me?”

“Jealous?” Ethan looked down at her.

“…”

Jealous, your ass. She bit back the reply and just shut up. Ethan didn’t press.

In the master bedroom, things escalated. Heat, tension—and in River City’s early autumn, the night still held a restless kind of warmth. It lingered.

…

Afterward, Ethan let her go and headed to the bathroom.

“Babe,” Clara suddenly called out.

Ethan stopped mid-step, waiting. She was biting her lip, eyes down, clearly mulling something over. He didn’t rush her.

Then she said it. “Let’s get divorced.”

The calm on Ethan’s face cracked instantly; his brows drew together hard. His voice dropped, tight, “What did you just say?”

“Ethan Blackwood, let’s get divorced.” She said his full name this time.

He didn’t answer—just turned and started walking back toward her. There was always something overpowering about him. With every step, the air seemed to thin.

But Clara didn’t flinch.

He stopped right in front of her, tall and imposing. She calmly met his eyes and spoke, “She’s back, isn’t she? I saw it on the news.”