As if he already knew her.
Too well.
“You know her?”
A pause.
Barely a second.
But I caught it.
“No.”
Too fast.
A lie.
I stood.
“Ethan.”
He looked at me.
“Four years ago, I gave you control of Blackwell Domestic Services because I trusted you.”
“Yes.”
“I gave you access because I believed you protected this company.”
“I did.”
“No.”
My voice became colder.
“You protected yourself.”
His jaw tightened.
Then something strange happened.
His expression shifted from anger…
to sadness.
Almost pity.
“You really don’t remember.”
Those words stopped me.
“Remember what?”
Ethan looked away.
For the first time in years, he didn’t look like my business partner.
He looked like a man carrying a secret.
A heavy one.
“You think this started four years ago?”
I stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
He stood.
Walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“Ask yourself something, Adrian.”
I waited.
“Why do you think your wife never trusted me?”
The room fell silent.
My wife.
Clara.
Her name could still break something inside me.
“What does Clara have to do with this?”
Ethan looked back.
The expression on his face made my stomach tighten.
“Everything.”
Then he walked out.
That night, I couldn’t stop thinking about those words.
Why had Clara never trusted Ethan?
Because the truth was…
she hadn’t.
I remembered now.
Small things.
Moments I had dismissed.
The way she would go quiet whenever Ethan entered a room.
The way she once told me:
“Adrian, the people closest to you are the ones who know exactly where to hurt you.”
I had laughed.
I told her she was being paranoid.
I told her Ethan was family.
She had smiled sadly.
And said:
