You Want Open Marriage? Fine. Your Rival Is Next in Line.

Chapter 3

Over the next few days, my life returned to peace.

Charles personally drove me to and from my independent design studio every day.

He also bought me a comfortable maternity recliner.

But I had underestimated Daniel's obsession.

That Friday afternoon, I had just finished a design draft when the studio's glass door was pushed open.

Daniel walked in, bringing a chill with him.

He had lost a lot of weight. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and dark stubble dotted his chin.

Gone was his usual arrogance and noble composure.

My assistant, Elsie, was startled and tried to stop him.

"Sir, we require an appointment here..." she said.

Daniel shot her a cold glance. "Get lost," he said, and strode straight toward me.

I set down my brush and gestured for Elsie to leave first. After the door closed, only the two of us remained in the studio.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

Daniel walked up to me, his gaze fixed on my stomach. Through the loose sweater, the curve of my belly could no longer be concealed.

"Clara, I've checked," he said, his voice terribly hoarse, tinged with a sick, stubborn obsession. "You're five months pregnant. We only divorced four months ago. This child is definitely mine!"

My lips curved mockingly.

"Daniel, did your PE teacher teach you math? Pregnancy months are calculated from the last menstrual period, not from conception. Whose child I'm carrying, I know better than anyone. I don't need you barging in here to falsely claim kinship."

Daniel placed both hands on my desk and leaned forward, staring intently into my eyes.

"You're lying!" he said. "You think just because Charles stepped in, he can erase the fact that this child carries my blood?"

He suddenly softened his tone, his eyes full of pleading. "Clara, you used to be so afraid of pain. Every time you got your period, I was the one who rubbed your stomach through the night. You were afraid of the dark, so I installed motion‑sensor floor lights in every hallway of the house. I loved you so much. How could you bear to let our child call Charles Dad?"

Listening to him recount the past, I found it utterly ironic. Yes, there was a time when he'd spoiled me rotten. He remembered all my preferences and tolerated my terrible temper. Yet this same man, who claimed to love me to his core, had calmly said to me, "This is very popular. We can each seek physical novelty elsewhere." That was his idea of love.

"Daniel, don't make me sick any longer," I said. "Since you like novelty so much, go find your little assistant Jane, go find your whole forest. Stay out of my life."

The pleading in Daniel's eyes shattered instantly, replaced by uncontrollable rage.

"Do you have to oppose me like this?" he demanded.

He straightened up abruptly, pulled out a document, and slammed it onto the desk.

"This is a paternity test consent form," he said. "As long as you cooperate with me and get an amniocentesis to prove the child is mine, I'll immediately transfer ten percent of Garcia Group's shares into your name!"

He smirked at me, as if offering me some great charity.

"Clara, stop making a fuss. Quit while you're ahead."

Amniocentesis carried a risk of miscarriage. To satisfy his laughable possessiveness, he was actually willing to gamble with my unborn child's life.

"I don't need the shares, and my child certainly doesn't need them either," I said. "Take this piece of trash and get out of my studio."

I pointed at the door, my voice cold and sharp.

Daniel's face darkened.

"Clara, don't push your luck," he said.

He walked around the desk, strode up to me, and grabbed my arm.

"You have to come to the hospital with me today!"

"Let go of me!" I shouted.

I struggled with all my might, but I was no match for him.

He dragged me roughly toward the door, completely ignoring that I was pregnant.

"Daniel, have you lost your mind?!" I cried.

He yanked me so hard that I stumbled, and a dull, dragging pain pulsed through my belly.

Just then, someone kicked the studio door open. The loud crash brought him up short.

Charles stood in the doorway, backlit, radiating a terrifying menace.

He strode in without a word and grabbed Daniel by the collar.

Immediately, a thunderous punch slammed into Daniel's face with a loud bang.

Daniel's head snapped to the side, and blood instantly welled up at the corner of his mouth.

He released my hand and staggered back two steps, knocking over the easel beside him.

Charles wasn't finished.

He stepped forward, grabbed Daniel by the collar again, and slammed him hard against the wall.

"I warned you to stay away from her," Charles said.

Daniel wiped the blood from his mouth, his gaze vicious.

"Charles, who the hell do you think you are? You're just picking up my castoffs, yet you actually think you're a big deal? I'm telling you, the child in her belly is mine!"