Chapter 3

Clara POV

Julian blocked the dead center of the hallway, not giving an inch.

"Bursting out with gauze still taped to your head—haven't you humiliated yourself enough?"

His voice was low, but anger laced every hard syllable.

Standing barefoot on the cold tile, my breath came in shallow, ragged gasps.

The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed with a dizzying glare, but I didn't budge.

"Vivienne's health isn't great, and she has a short temper. Just indulge her. Don't take it to heart."

Julian's eyes flicked over the bandage on my forehead.

I stared straight into his eyes.

Yesterday in the courtyard, he watched me freeze until I passed out. Now, inside the hospital, his very first words were still making excuses for Vivienne.

"I stood in that yard until I collapsed," I rasped out. "Did you ever once bother to ask how long I was out there?"

Julian's brow furrowed deeper.

"It won't happen again. I bought you the apartment, got you the car, and transferred every cent I owed you. What else are you missing? Just say it."

I let out a cold, silent laugh.

Every time he slept with me, another deposit showed up in my account.

I hadn't touched a single dime of it. It was the price tag he put on using me.

"I haven't spent a penny of your money."

His frown tightened into a scowl. "Stop throwing a tantrum with me."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"If you're not, why are you running around barefoot?"

"It was stuffy in the room. I wanted fresh air."

I fixed my eyes on the second button of his dress shirt.

Julian closed the distance by half a step. "Don't be ungrateful. People line up begging for what you have."

I didn't take the bait.

If being a glorified surrogate for over a decade was such a privilege, anyone else was welcome to it.

Julian raised a finger, pointing at me. "When the newborn celebration arrives, you will hand the baby over to Vivienne yourself. In front of all the guests, you'll make sure all three children call her Mother."

My fingernails bit deep into my palms.

He wanted to cement my place in the shadows, right in front of the city's entire high society.

The moment I handed over those children with bowed head, I would remain the Sinclair family's dirty, hidden breeding tool for the rest of my life.

"Do you understand?" Julian demanded, drilling his eyes into mine.

I unclenched my fists. "Understood."

Julian clearly hadn't expected me to agree so readily. His lips thinned, and he spun around, taking long strides away.

His dress shoes struck the floor with sharp, rhythmic clicks, fading into the distance.

Leaning against the wall, I slowly sank to the floor, resting my chin on my knees.

I wasn't resigning myself to fate. I was calculating the days.

This wretched debt was settled the moment three children were born.

The one growing in my stomach right now would never see the light of day.

On the day of the banquet, with so many guests and so much chaos, that would be my moment to vanish completely.

Back at the Sinclair estate, I spent an entire afternoon scrubbing the guest room spotless.

The designer clothes bought by the family hung neatly in the closet; the jewelry, the apartment keys, and the car keys were lined up dead center on the vanity.

I packed only a single small duffel bag: an old change of clothes, and an ID card bearing my real name, Clara Vance.

After living in this house for over a decade, the things that truly belonged to me couldn't even fill half a bag.

I gently pulled the door shut behind me.

A few days later, Vivienne summoned me to the master bedroom.

Propped up against the headboard, she took her time nibbling on a slice of cake.

"Tomorrow night at seven, you're meeting someone. Brett Vance—young, decent-looking."

I stood at the foot of the bed without moving. "I'm not going."

The fork in Vivienne's hand paused, and her eyelids flicked up. "Excuse me?"

"I still have gauze wrapped around my head. I'm not going."

Vivienne sneered, her smile turning ice-cold. "The cut's on your temple. Cover it with your hair. Put on that light-colored dress tomorrow night, and don't you dare embarrass me."

I shoved my hands into my pockets, my palms breaking out in a cold sweat.

"You think you have a choice?" Vivienne set her fork down and waved a dismissive hand. "Get out and get ready."