Chapter 47 The word âhomeâ pierced Claraâs heart like a thorn. Once, she had believed in that place as her home, where she handpicked decorations from department stores and meticulously arranged every nook and cranny. Her arrival turned the once sterile apartment into a haven of warmth.
After work each day, she would swing by the local grocery store to pick up fresh ingredients, preparing lanâs favorite dishes with care.
Waiting for him to come home, sharing dinner, those moments were the epitome of bliss for her. She even thought, if lan wasnât ready for marriage, their current arrangement wasnât half bad.
But the harsh truth was, it had always been a oneâsided affair. Ian had never truly given her his heart. To him, she was merely a fuck buddy, an object for his desires.
The bitter realization twisted her lips into a sardonic smile. âThatâs your home, not mine. I wonât go back with you.â
lanâs grip tightened on her chin, his mouth claiming hers in a possessive kiss that brooked no argument. His unrestrained lips wandered over her face, neck, and body, acting without censure. He knew Claraâs body as if it were his own. He knew what made her tick, and what stirred her deepest cravings.
Her breath was stolen bit by bit, like a small fish gasping for air before drowning in a vast sea.
The night was deep, the world around them silent. The only audible sound was the heavy breathing of a man caught in passion.
Ian nipped at her tender flesh, teasing, âAre you coming home or not?â
Claraâs eyes reddened from the intensity of the kiss, her body turning to putty. Her voice was hoarse and unrecognizable. âlan, home is where the heart is. What we have is hardly more than a fling a hotel room would be more suitable.â
Her voice was soft yet charged with coldness. lan slowly released her, his gaze pinning her in place, âClara, have I treated you too well? Made you too arrogant?â
A cold laugh escaped Clara, âif being wrongly accused counts as treating someone well, then yes, you excel at that, donât you?â
Her clear, bright eyes held not a trace of affection, only icy mockery that chilled lan to the core.
He licked his lips, frustration evident, âClara, donât be too smart for your own good. Do you think Heidi is that easy to deal with?â
âIâm aware sheâs got the Campbell family and you behind her. But she crossed a line. Iâll 11:14 fight her to the bitter end if I have to.â
âSheâs got depression, Clara. Drive her to suicide, and youâll face consequences you canât Imagine.
Clara closed her eyes, a bitter smile touching her lips. âSo youâll always believe her over me? lan, depression isnât exclusive to Heidi. Have you ever thought that I might suffer from it too?â
âClara, depression isnât like catching a cold. You donât just get it because you want to.â lan sat up in bed, his gaze upon Clara was cold and distant.
The woman before him was a mystery. Where she used to be docile and compliant, she now radiated defiance.
His long, wellâshaped hand gently caressed her luminous cheek, his voice softening, âIâve told you, if you just behave, Iâll keep you safe. Otherwise...â
âOtherwise, youâll be less than gentle, right?â
The desolation in Claraâs eyes deepened, and her smile turned even more bitter. She had told him the truth about the baby, but he didnât believe her. She denied pushing Heidi, but he didnât believe that either. Now, with the pain of reopening old wounds, she revealed her own struggle with depression, and still, he refused to believe.