The Fracture Beneath the Surface
The next morning felt colder than usual, even though the sun streamed gently through the curtains.
Clara sat beside Mandaline in the garden, helping her arrange flowers in a small vase. She smiled faintly when Mandaline complimented her choice of lilies, but her eyes were far away.
"You and Ethan fought again," Mandaline said softly.
Clara's hand stilled. "You could tell?"
"Of course," Mandaline said gently. "You may try to hide it, but the heart speaks louder than words."
Before Clara could answer, footsteps crunched on the gravel. Isabella appeared, perfectly dressed as always, her soft smile hiding the sharpness in her eyes.
"Oh, I didn't realize you were out here," she said smoothly. "Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood. Clara."
Mandaline nodded politely. "Good morning, Isabella."
Isabella turned to Clara, her tone pleasant. "Ethan's been in the study all morning. He looked troubled. Perhaps you should go to him?"
Clara forced a smile. "He didn't ask for me."
"Still," Isabella said lightly, "sometimes men need their wives to remind them they're not alone."
Clara stood, keeping her voice steady. "Thank you for the advice. But I think Ethan's already found company."
For a split second, Isabella's smile faltered. But she recovered quickly. "Suit yourself."
As Isabella walked away, Mandaline sighed. "She's trouble, that one."
Clara didn't respond. She didn't need to.
---
In the study, Ethan sat staring at the same photograph again. He hated that he couldn't throw it away.
Marcus's smug face haunted him — the man had deceived them all, and now even the image of Clara with him felt like betrayal.
The door creaked open.
"Thinking about her?" Isabella's voice was soft, almost sympathetic.
Ethan didn't look up. "You shouldn't be here."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I was worried. You look like you haven't slept."
"I'm fine," he muttered.
"You're not," she said gently. "She's changing you, Ethan. The man I knew would never let anyone play with his loyalty like this."
He turned then, frowning. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" she asked quietly. "I know you. You carry everyone's weight — your mother's, Marcus's, now hers. But you can't save someone who keeps secrets from you."
He exhaled slowly, eyes darkening. "Leave, Isabella."
She smiled faintly, but there was satisfaction in her gaze. "Of course. But remember, Ethan… not every betrayal comes from hate. Sometimes it comes from love."
She left before he could reply, leaving the poison of her words to sink in.