Chapter 2: Starting Over
1408 Words
The taxi pulled away from the Blackwood mansion.
Clara Bennett watched the house disappear behind her until the tall gates were no longer visible.
She didn't look back again.
She had promised herself she wouldn't.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Clara opened her mouth, then stopped.
She hadn't thought that far.
For three years, whenever she needed to go somewhere, a driver had been waiting downstairs.
If she wanted something, she had simply asked.
If she had a problem, Ethan's assistants usually handled it.
Now she had one suitcase, a phone with a dying battery, and nowhere she truly wanted to go.
“Just take me somewhere with a hotel,” she finally said.
The driver glanced at her through the mirror.
“Any particular area?”
Clara looked out the window.
“Somewhere quiet.”
The driver nodded.
Clara leaned against the seat and closed her eyes.
She expected to feel relieved.
Instead, she felt empty.
Three years of marriage couldn't disappear because she had signed a few papers.
There were memories everywhere.
Their first dinner.
Their wedding.
The first time she had moved into the Blackwood mansion.
The countless nights she had waited for Ethan to come home.
She had spent so much time trying to make that house feel like a home.
Now she wondered why she had tried so hard.
Her phone suddenly vibrated.
Clara looked down.
Ethan.
Her heart gave an annoying little jump.
She stared at the name.
Then she remembered the papers.
She turned the phone face down.
A few seconds later, it stopped ringing.
Then it started again.
Clara frowned.
Why was he calling?
He had been perfectly calm when he asked her to leave.
She had expected him to feel relieved.
So why was he calling now?
She let the call end.
A message appeared.
Where are you staying tonight?
Clara read it twice.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
She could reply.
She could tell him she didn't know.
She could even ask him to let her stay one more night.
But she didn't.
She locked her phone.
“I don't need to explain myself anymore,” she whispered.
The words sounded strange.
But also freeing.
---
The hotel was small.
Nothing like the luxurious hotels Ethan's company owned or the places his family usually visited.
The receptionist handed Clara a key card and gave her a polite smile.
“Enjoy your stay.”
Clara almost smiled.
Enjoy.
She walked into the room and placed her suitcase on the bed.
Then she stood there.
Alone.
The room was quiet.
No staff.
No security outside the door.
No expensive furniture.
No Ethan.
For some reason, that last thought hurt the most.
Clara sat on the edge of the bed.
Her eyes landed on her hands.
She had been so busy holding herself together that she hadn't realized how exhausted she was.
She lay down.
Just for a minute.
The next thing she knew, sunlight was spilling through the curtains.
Clara opened her eyes.
For a moment, she didn't remember where she was.
Then everything came rushing back.
The divorce.
The suitcase.
Ethan.
She sat up slowly.
Her phone was beside her.
There were six missed calls.
All from Ethan.
Clara stared at the screen.
Six.
Why?
She unlocked the phone.
Another message waited.
We need to talk.
She almost laughed.
Yesterday, Ethan had made it very clear that there was nothing left to discuss.
Now he wanted to talk.
Clara put the phone down.
“No.”
She got out of bed.
Today was the first day of the rest of her life.
She couldn't spend it thinking about him.
---
By nine in the morning, Clara was sitting inside a small café with her laptop open.
She had made a list.
A job.
An apartment.
A bank account.
A new routine.
A life that didn't depend on Ethan Blackwood.
The first item was the hardest.
She needed work.
Clara had experience as Ethan's secretary, but she wasn't sure anyone would take her seriously outside the Blackwood organization.
She had spent years working closely with him.
Most people knew her only as Mrs. Blackwood.
Not Clara Bennett.
She opened her résumé.
Then she frowned.
It looked terrible.
Almost everything on it was connected to Ethan.
She had managed his schedule, organized meetings, handled confidential documents, coordinated with executives, and solved problems before they reached his desk.
But none of that sounded impressive when written down.
Clara leaned back.
She knew what she was capable of.
She had simply forgotten how to explain it.
She began rewriting the résumé.
Two hours later, she stared at the new version.
It was better.
Much better.
For the first time since leaving the mansion, Clara felt a small spark of confidence.
She sent applications to five companies.
Then ten.
Then another three.
She closed the laptop.
One step at a time.
---
Across the city, Ethan Blackwood sat behind his desk.
He had been staring at the same email for nearly five minutes.
His assistant, Marcus, stood across from him.
“Sir?”
Ethan looked up.
“What?”
Marcus hesitated.
“You asked me to find out where Mrs. Blackwood is staying.”
Ethan's expression hardened.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She checked into a hotel last night.”
Ethan nodded.
“Send a car.”
Marcus blinked.
“To pick her up?”
“No.”
Ethan looked back at his computer.
“Just make sure she's safe.”
Marcus stared at him.
Ethan noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then leave.”
Marcus nodded and walked out.
The door closed.
Ethan leaned back in his chair.
He didn't understand himself.
He had wanted the divorce.
He had signed the papers.
He had believed ending the marriage would make everything simpler.
So why had he barely slept?
Why had he called her six times?
And why did the thought of Clara staying alone in a cheap hotel bother him so much?
His phone rang.
His mother.
Ethan answered.
“Hello.”
“Ethan, tell me you've handled everything.”
“I have.”
“Good. Your father wants you at dinner tonight.”
“I'll be there.”
There was a pause.
“And Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“Don't make the mistake of bringing Clara back into this family.”
His expression darkened.
“I won't.”
He ended the call.
But the words stayed with him.
---
That evening, Clara sat in the hotel room with a cup of tea.
She had received three rejection emails.
She wasn't surprised.
Still, they hurt.
She opened another job listing.
Then she saw the company name.
Westbridge Holdings.
It was a respected company with a strong reputation in the city.
The position was executive operations coordinator.
Clara read the requirements carefully.
Organizational skills.
Communication.
Executive support.
Crisis management.
She smiled.
For once, she wasn't underqualified.
She submitted her application.
Then she closed the laptop.
Five minutes later, an email arrived.
Clara almost ignored it.
Then she saw the subject.
Interview Invitation — Westbridge Holdings
Her eyes widened.
She opened it.
They wanted to meet her tomorrow morning.
Clara read the message again.
Then a small smile appeared on her face.
It wasn't a huge victory.
But it was hers.
Nobody had given it to her because she was Ethan Blackwood's wife.
Nobody had called her Mrs. Blackwood.
They had looked at her résumé.
They had seen her abilities.
And they had chosen her.
Clara stood and walked toward the mirror.
She studied her reflection.
She looked tired.
But there was something different in her eyes.
Determination.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered, “I start again.”
Her phone buzzed.
A new message.
This time, she recognized the number immediately.
Ethan:
I heard you have an interview tomorrow.
Clara's smile disappeared.
She stared at the message.
How did he know?
Before she could decide whether to answer, another message appeared.
Ethan:
Don't go.
Clara's eyebrows drew together.
For the first time since the divorce, anger replaced sadness.
She typed a reply.
Then stopped.
No.
She deleted it.
She placed the phone on the table and smiled faintly.
If Ethan thought he could still control her life after signing the divorce papers, he was about to learn something.
Clara Bennett was no longer his wife.
And she was no longer asking for permission.
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