Chapter 3

I spent the night alone in the study.

When I came out the next morning, Clara had actually prepared breakfast.

On the dining table sat a fresh mango smoothie and some toast.

My gaze darkened. We had been married for three years, and she didn’t even know I was severely allergic to mangoes.

“Hurry up and eat,” she said, packing a beautifully arranged bento box into a thermal bag.

I looked at her hands, not making a move.

Once she finished packing, she noticed me standing still. Her face immediately turned sour. “I woke up early to make this for you, and you won’t even touch it?”

“I bust my ass working outside all day, and when I come home to take care of you, this is the attitude I get? Ethan, do you really think you’re some king who needs to be served on a silver platter?”

She woke up early to buy me breakfast?

What a joke.

I hadn’t even taken a bite, yet she was already acting like she deserved a medal.

It was pathetic.

Perhaps my flat reaction made her uncomfortable. After all, in the past, even if she just handed me a fork at dinner, I would shower her with praise for hours.

In our three years of marriage, this was the very first time Clara had ever made me breakfast.

Usually, I was the one who woke up hours early to make her favorite lunches for work.

“You need to learn to be grateful. I made you breakfast. What more do you want?”

Tired of her nagging, I picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite.

“I made that smoothie myself. Drink it.”

I stared at the mango smoothie, then pushed it aside. “I’d rather have some oatmeal.”

Clara’s face contorted instantly. “You’re lucky to have anything to eat at all, and yet you’re being picky.”

She rolled her eyes, swept everything on the table straight into the trash can, and marched into the bedroom to change.

The toast had mango spread on it. Fearing an allergic reaction, I immediately grabbed my phone to schedule an emergency appointment at the clinic.

While doing so, a notification popped up. Julian had updated his Instagram.

The photo showed an IV drip in a hospital room. The caption read: *“Sick and feeling miserable. The medicine is so bitter... I really wish I could taste your delicious homemade lunch right now! 🥺”*

I laughed at myself.

And here I thought she had made breakfast out of guilt for forgetting my birthday.

It turned out she only woke up early to cook a meal for another man.

She cooked for him, and bought trashy takeout toast for me.

Who truly mattered to her was glaringly obvious.

Just then, Clara walked out of the bedroom. I locked my phone and followed her.

“I need to go to the clinic. Let’s go together.”

The moment she heard this, Clara’s face twisted with rage. “Did you go through my phone while I was changing? Can we have some fucking privacy? Are you a three-year-old child? Do you have to follow me everywhere? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

I knew she had misunderstood.

Two months ago, a business partner invited me to a dinner at a famous local restaurant.

Coincidentally, I ran into Clara having a romantic candlelit dinner with Julian.

She assumed I was stalking her. Since that day, she kept her entire schedule a secret from me.

I tried to explain back then, but she refused to listen.

“I’m not trying to follow you. It’s just convenient,” I said calmly. “Your secretary is hospitalized. As his boss, it’s only natural for you to visit him.”

Clara’s expression softened slightly.

“Yes, I have to visit him. After all, he just brought in a multi-million-dollar deal for the company.”

“Unlike you. You can’t do anything right. You can’t even drive a decent car.”

She never missed an opportunity to belittle me, yet she didn't even bother to ask why I was going to the clinic.

Once we got into the car and started the engine, Clara’s phone rang again.

It was her assistant. “Ms. Vance, there's an important video conference at 9:30 AM. When will you arrive at the office?”

Clara glanced at her phone. Julian must have sent her a text.

She looked torn.

Suddenly, she slammed on the brakes, pulled over, and shoved a thick stack of documents into my lap.

“This meeting is extremely important, but I’ve highlighted all the key points. You can at least read from a script, right?”

She knew the meeting was crucial, yet she was willing to ditch it just to be with Julian.

Seeing my lack of response, Clara continued, “It won’t take much of your time. I’ll pick you up from the office soon.”

Without waiting for my consent, she reached over, unlocked the passenger door, and pushed me out of the car.

I had no choice but to call an Uber to her office. On the way, my skin started itching intensely, and tiny red hives began to break out across my arms.

After handing the documents to her assistant, I rushed straight to the hospital.

After getting an IV drip and a few boxes of allergy medication, I finally went home.

Throughout the entire process, Clara didn't call me once.

When I opened my phone, the first thing I saw was Julian’s new Instagram post.

The picture was Clara personally spoon-feeding him soup in his hospital bed.

I looked at the pile of pills on my table and found it incredibly hilarious.

Just as I was about to head to the bedroom to rest, the front door was kicked open with brutal force.

Before I could even process what was happening, Clara stormed in and slapped me hard across the face.

“Ethan! Can’t you do one simple thing right?”

“You dropped off the files and just left! You left the clients sitting there waiting! Did you expect them to hold a meeting with thin air?”

“I had to rush back to the office to clean up your mess! And you? You just vanished without a word!”

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