Celyne POV
The moment Clara’s name left his lips, something inside me broke.
Not cracked.
Not shaken.
Broken and scared.
Because Alexander didn’t make empty threats.
And I knew—God, I knew—that whatever he said, he was capable of doing it.
My throat tightened as I stared at him, my heart slamming violently against my ribs. The air in the room suddenly felt too thick, too suffocating to breathe through.
“Clara…” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.
He didn’t blink. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even look remotely guilty.
“Yes. Clara.”
The finality in his tone sent a chill down my spine.
Hours ago, I would have argued. I would have shouted, fought back, demanded to know what gave him the right to control every part of my life.
But now?
Now I had seen this version of him too
