CHAPTER 003
877 Words
At Adrian's apartment, the door clicked softly as Clara stepped inside. It was too quiet. No sounds of movement, no low hum of music or distant voices. Just the echo of her heels on the marble and the feeling of unease growing in her chest.
“Adrian?” she called gently, walking further into the open living space.
There was no response. She scanned the room. Everything was in perfect order, as if time had stopped. Something about the emptiness made her chest tighten. Just as she was about to leave, feeling unsettled, she caught sight of someone familiar near the garage.
Jonas. Adrian’s personal driver.
"Jonas!" Clara called out.
He turned, a little startled to see her. “Miss Clara, Good morning.”
She approached quickly. “Is Adrian in?”
Jonas shook his head. “No ma’am. He hasn’t returned.”
Clara froze. “What do you mean he hasn’t returned?”
He hesitated, his voice low. “I don’t know, he left last night, right after dinner. Alone. Told me not to follow him.”
“But you always go everywhere with him.”
“Yea, ma’am, but not last night. He didn’t say where he was going, he just got in his car and drove off without an explanation.”
Clara's stomach twisted. “And he hasn’t come back since?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her mind raced. Where would he go that late at night? Alone. And why would he need to hide it? She turned, distracted by the weight of her thoughts. That’s when she heard it.
The soft chime of the elevator. She looked up as the door slid open and Adrian stepped in. Tall and composed but clearly caught off guard. His eyes locked on her. For a brief moment, he looked shocked. Then guilt flashed across his face before he masked it with his familiar controlled expression.
“Clara,” he said casually, walking towards her. “Didn’t expect you.”
She offered a polite but firm smile. “Neither did I, Jonas said you disappeared after dinner.”
Adrian’s eyes shifted towards his driver in the distance. “Had something to handle.”
He moved closer, casually brushing past her. And she noticed it.
A scent. Sweet, musky, feminine. Scented candles, vanilla, a woman’s perfume. Not hers. And definitely not from last night’s dinner.
The scent clung to him, subtle but present, as if a trace of someone else still lingered. He walked towards his private study, the room he never let anyone enter. She followed without thinking, her heart thudding.
He placed his phone on the glass table right next to where Clara stood, heading to the sleek wooden cabinet that housed his luxury watches. As he fiddled with the clasp of the one he was wearing, trying to take it off, his back turned.
His phone buzzed. The screen lit up. She wasn't scooping.
Her eyes landed on the screen before she could look away.
From LAYLA.
“Why did you lie to me about work? You didn’t tell me about the dinner with Clara Anderson. Even after everything last night. Why are you still hiding me?”
Clara's throat dried. Her fingers trembled. Her name, her dinner. Last night? Everything? Hiding? She couldn’t blink.
Layla, another woman.
One who clearly didn’t know Clara existed or about the dinner. Someone who had obviously been with him… last night.
She couldn’t breathe or think. Her stomach flipped as Adrian turned back around. Quickly, she set the phone down just in time.
He didn’t notice. Or maybe he did.
He looked up, his gaze steady. “So... what brings you here?”
Clara lifted her chin, every emotion boiling beneath her skin – jealousy, confusion, anger, but her voice came out icy.
“Since I’m going to be your wife,” she said, voice clipped, “and I had the free time, I figured I’d start getting to know my future home. Every room in it.”
Adrian's face remained unreadable, but his eyes flickered briefly to the phone on the table.
Clara turned, her heels sharp against the floor, and walked away without another word.
Not to tour the apartment. Not to stay. But to leave because her mind was spinning with questions and theories. And most dangerously– with jealousy. The elevator door slid shut behind her with a soft whoosh.
Back in the study, Adrian stood still, facing the wall with his jaw tensed. He slowly turned and picked up his phone. The screen was black, locked. But he knew what had happened. He knew the message had come through. And he felt the shift in Clara’s tone. She had seen something.
But what will she do?
His thoughts spiraled as he sat down slowly. His fingers hovered over the phone, nerves firing in every direction.
Buzz. Another message. From Layla.
“We need to talk. I’m tired of being your secret. Either you tell them about us, or I will.”
Adrian's heart clenched. He looked towards the door Clara had just left. And for the first time in years, the cold, calculated billionaire felt panic settle deep in his chest.
Two women. Two truths. Only one version of his life could survive.
- Writer
