Clara turned off her phone, her fingers still trembling. Standing behind the bedroom curtains, she glared down at Ethan in the garden below. He looked so busy, painstakingly pulling weeds—his face flat, devoid of the lethal aura he’d radiated in that video recording. But Clara knew. Her instincts screamed that the husband she’d considered a burden for the past three years was actually the strongest shield in her life. "Breakfast is ready, Clara! Why aren't you down yet? Your unemployed husband cooked a feast!" Martha’s voice shrieked from behind the door. Clara took a deep breath. She wiped away the last of her tears and straightened her blazer. Today, she would no longer be the fragile CEO. If Ethan was truly hiding in the shadows to protect her, then it was her job to clear the house of
