The Seed of Doubt
Ethan confronted Clara that night.
He waited until everyone had gone to bed, until the house was quiet except for the rain. When she stepped out of Mandaline's room, he was waiting in the hall, his expression unreadable.
"We need to talk," he said quietly.
Clara nodded, though her stomach twisted. "All right."
They went into the study. The fire crackled softly, casting shadows across the room.
Ethan placed the photo on the desk between them. "When were you going to tell me about this?"
Clara frowned. "What is this supposed to be?"
"You tell me," he said, his voice cold. "Were you meeting Marcus behind my back?"
She stared at the photo, realization dawning. "This was weeks ago. He stopped me outside the café. He said he wanted to apologize—"
"And you believed him?" Ethan's tone sharpened. "After everything he's done?"
Clara's voice trembled. "He said Eleanor didn't know he was using her. I thought if I could make him admit it, it would help."
"Or maybe you were helping him," he said bitterly.
Clara flinched. "You don't mean that."
He looked away. "Don't I?"
The silence between them was suffocating.
"Ethan," she said softly, "you're letting her get to you. Isabella wants this—she wants us to fall apart."
He turned back to her, anger flashing in his eyes. "Not everything is about Isabella!"
Clara's eyes filled with tears. "Then why are you defending her?"
He had no answer.
For a moment, neither spoke. Only the rain filled the quiet.
Finally, Clara whispered, "I didn't betray you."
Ethan closed his eyes, his voice barely audible. "Then prove it."
She shook her head. "If you don't trust me by now, there's nothing left to prove."
And with that, she walked out — not from the mansion, but from his sight.
He stood there long after she was gone, the sound of her fading footsteps echoing louder than any storm outside.