Drowning in Memories

Chapter 2 Overheard Matthew's Plan

"As for Ivy, she'll never find out about this. Tell your men to leak the rumor that Clara gave in to loneliness and had a one-night stand. Once I marry her, the Sharp family will owe me a debt of gratitude. And the second I take full control of Sharp Corporation, Ivy will never suffer another day."

"But… what about Ms. Sharp? What if she can't handle this? What if she leaves you?" Liam hesitated, biting back the truth that Matthew was being played for a fool by Ivy.

Matthew stared at the rising sun, his fingers tightening unconsciously around Clara's arm, his composure fracturing for a split second—perhaps replaying the endless sounds he had heard from outside the car all night long.

"Impossible. Adrian has been with countless women; his body was long ruined. He's incapable of doing anything, especially after drinking that heavily. I planned every last detail to perfection. All that commotion last night was nothing but Adrian's dramatic provocation—nothing, absolutely nothing, actually happened between them. Clara will never learn the truth. The drug I slipped into her wine erases short-term memories. She'll forget I was the one who shoved her into Adrian's arms."

Matthew avoided confirming whether Clara would actually lose her memories, simply ordering Liam to assign extra bodyguards to her—ostensibly for her protection, but in truth, to place her under house arrest.

"Understood, Mr. Coleman. You've truly thought of everything," Liam replied with a hollow, bitter chuckle.

Clara lay there, feigning unconsciousness, every word piercing her heart like a sharp blade. The Matthew before her was terrifyingly unfamiliar—a complete stranger she had never truly known. Her body trembled violently, cold sweat soaking through her clothes.

But Matthew was dead wrong. Last night had been painfully, horribly real.

She and Adrian had crossed every single line, giving in to every single moment. If he ever learned the truth, would he even regret the cruel farce he had staged?

As for the drug he had mixed into her wine—it was nothing but a common aphrodisiac, with no memory-erasing properties at all.

Mistaking her shivers for chills, Matthew pulled her tighter against his chest.

When she finally came to, she didn't scream or fall apart. Instead, she quietly reached for her phone and contacted Adrian.

"About the offer you made me last night—helping me escape Matthew. Are you being serious?"

Adrian's voice was rough with sleep, laced with a faint, knowing smirk. "I'll come for you in seven days. Just don't regret this."

Clara pressed her lips into a thin, firm line, her voice steady and unshakable. "I won't."

Adrian let out a cold scoff. "You should have made this choice sooner. I just hope you won't come crawling back to him the second he utters your name."

His words cut deep, slapping her with the harsh truth, stinging her pride and shattering her heart into a thousand pieces.

In this twisted, tangled love triangle of betrayal, she was the only loser—the only one left broken and bleeding.

The searing agony in her chest stole her breath, leaving her gasping for air.

"I won't," she whispered hoarsely, her eyes red and swollen with unshed tears. "I will never look back."

After hanging up, she walked barefoot to the window, flung it open violently, and let the biting cold wind lash at her face until it went numb, drowning out her silent, choking sobs.

Once the cold air cleared her muddled thoughts, she quietly shut the window and began gathering every single thing Matthew had ever given her over the years.

There was the cheap bracelet he had tricked her into accepting as a birthday gift, pretending it was a priceless treasure.

Little did she know that very same day, he had spent his first paycheck to buy Ivy a million-dollar diamond necklace—all to make up for some trivial slight Ivy had endured.

All these years, she had treasured every memento of their so-called love, locking them safely away in a vault: a photo album documenting every year they had spent together, from age six to twenty; a diary filled with his name, every page scribbled with her love and longing…

Clara dragged them all out, dumped them into a bucket, and set them ablaze.

"What are you burning?"

Matthew walked over in his workout gear, reaching out to brush her hair with a familiar, gentle gesture. But Clara flinched back sharply, recoiling from his touch.