Clara was still in the hallway, pretending to wipe a glass frame when Christian approached. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, but his eyes were anything but casual.
"You heard quite a bit back there, didn't you?" he said smoothly.
Clara's fingers tightened around the cloth. "Sir?"
Christian gave a soft chuckle. "Come on, no need to play dumb. You froze when Lena said fake marriage. Anyone with ears would've done the same."
Clara shifted uneasily, avoiding his gaze. "It's not my place, sir. I didn't mean to overhear."
Christian leaned against the wall beside her, tone light. "Let me give you a bit of advice, Clara. In this house, knowing too much has... consequences."
Her brows furrowed. "Are you threatening me?"
He laughed again—quietly this time. "No. But you should be careful who you let see your reactions. Ethan may not always speak, but trust me—he sees everything."
He gave her a wink and sauntered off, leaving Clara confused, anxious, and even more cautious than before.
---
Meanwhile, Lena sat at the window seat in her bedroom, staring blankly out at the night sky. Her eyes were dry now—no more tears left. Just a quiet ache.
She thought about how she'd fallen apart in front of Ethan. About how he'd held her. How, for the first time, he hadn't flinched at emotion.
But it wasn't enough.
None of it was.
She had to pull back—for her own sanity.
When Ethan knocked lightly and peeked in an hour later, she didn't look at him. Just said softly, "I'm fine. I'd like to be alone."
He hesitated. "Lena—"
She didn't turn. "Please."
He left.
No questions.
No protests.
Just the sound of the door clicking shut.
---
The next morning was eerily quiet. Lena came down dressed neatly, hair pinned back, her features unreadable. She offered a polite nod to Ethan, a soft "Morning" to Christian, and a small smile to Clara.
But nothing more.
No lingering glances. No teasing. No soft spoken words.
It was as if she'd drawn a curtain between them.
Christian noticed immediately. He looked at Ethan, raising a brow as if to say, What did you do this time?
But instead of probing, he leaned in toward Ethan over breakfast and whispered with a grin, "Careful, buddy. Looks like she's ghosting you while living in your house. Impressive."
Ethan said nothing.
His eyes trailed Lena as she walked out of the room, expression calm but distant.
---
That night, Ethan remained in the lounge after everyone had gone to bed. The fire was low, crackling softly. He sat motionless, jaw set, lost in thought.
Lena's silence felt louder than her anger ever had.
She hadn't raised her voice. Hadn't stormed. Hadn't cried again.
She'd just… stepped back.
And he let her.
He told himself it was for the best. That feelings were messy. That he never promised anything beyond the contract. That her brother's situation was handled—that should be enough.
But it didn't feel like enough anymore.
He leaned his head back, eyes closing.
Then—
A door creaked softly behind him.
He didn't move.
Didn't need to.
He knew it was her.
Lena stood in the hallway, eyes locked on him from across the room. There was no anger in her gaze—just a haunting quiet.
They stared at each other.
No words.
No movement.
No bridge between them.
Then, barely above a whisper, she asked:
"You won't even fight for this, will you?"
Ethan's chest tightened.
But he didn't answer.
And Lena?
She turned away and walked down the hallway.
The echo of her footsteps disappeared into silence.
Ethan sat motionless…
Then slowly, his fingers curled into a fist.
The quiet hum of the late afternoon filled the kitchen, broken only by the steady tapping of Clara's fingers as she cracked an egg into the mixing bowl. Outside, the sun dipped lazily behind the garden wall, casting warm shadows across the marble countertop. Lena sat at the edge of the counter, legs crossed, a half-empty cup of tea cooling beside her. She hadn't touched it.
Clara glanced sideways. "You're unusually quiet today."
Lena barely reacted, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. She blinked once. Twice. Then she let out a soft sigh and murmured, "Clara… can I ask you something? Not as your employer, not even as… Ethan's wife, but just as me?"
Clara didn't stop whisking. "You can always ask me anything, Lena."
There was a pause. The kind that teetered between trust and fear.
"You overheard me and Ethan the other day," Lena finally said, her voice low. "I know you were there. I saw the look in your eyes when you came out of the hallway."
Clara slowly set the whisk down. For a second, her back was the only answer.
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," she said quietly. "But yes… I heard some of it. About the contract."
Lena didn't know whether to feel relieved or embarrassed. "So you know it's fake."
Clara turned toward her. "I know the paperwork might be fake. But emotions don't sign contracts, Lena."
The sentence hit harder than Lena expected. Her fingers tightened around her teacup.
"I didn't plan for any of this to happen," she said. "It was just supposed to be a deal. Secure my brother's surgery. Smile for the cameras. Stay in the mansion and play house. But now... everything's twisted."
Clara leaned against the counter. "Twisted how?"
Lena's voice wavered. "He held me. Just once. And the way he did it... it felt like the most real thing in my life. Which is insane, because Ethan doesn't even do emotions."
Clara nodded slowly. "And yet you're sitting here, talking about him like your heart forgot to read the fine print."
Lena laughed dryly. "That obvious?"
"Only to someone who's seen the way your eyes follow him when you think no one's watching," Clara said gently. "You look at him like you're trying to memorize his every detail... like it's all borrowed time."
Lena swallowed hard. "He's distant, Clara. Detached. I know he's not trying to hurt me, but sometimes it feels like he doesn't even realize I'm here unless he needs something."
"Are you scared you're falling in love with someone who won't love you back?" Clara asked.
Lena didn't answer. Her silence was loud enough.
Clara placed a hand on her shoulder. "Lena… I know how it feels to want to protect your heart. But you're already halfway in. And I don't think it's about whether Ethan is capable of love. I think it's about whether you're willing to love him anyway—even if he never gives it back."
Lena looked down. "That's the problem, Clara. I'm afraid I already do."
The room fell into a thick, understanding silence. Clara offered a small, bittersweet smile. "Then don't rush to protect yourself from something that hasn't even happened yet. Let it unfold. But be careful. Because men like Ethan... they don't even realize they're breaking hearts."
"And women like me…" Lena whispered, "...we hand them the hammer."
Clara gave her a gentle hug before returning to her baking, leaving Lena sitting there—heart a little more exposed, but mind a little more clear.