Chapter 3

I spent the next two weeks recovering at home.

Every day, Ethan left early and came back late --- and when he did come home, Zara was always with him.

They moved through the apartment like a couple, talking about work over the dining table, laughing about what they'd had for lunch.

I hid in the bedroom like a ghost no one wanted to see, training my left hand to hold a pencil, relearning how to draw.

The Crown Prize deadline was closing in. I couldn't walk away from it.

It was my dream.

Late one night, I came out to get some water.

Passing the study, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Voices drifted out --- Zara's and Ethan's.

"Ethan, do you like this pendant I designed?" Zara's voice was light and coy.

"It's beautiful. You're a natural --- you just get it." Ethan's tone was full of admiration.

I peered through the gap. Zara was sitting in Ethan's lap, holding a sketch.

One look at that sketch, and my blood ran cold.

It was one of my discarded drafts --- the ones I'd left in my office drawer.

Yes, it was a throwaway. But the core concept was still mine. And she was using it to impress him.

I shoved the door open.

The bang made them both jump. Zara yelped and scrambled off Ethan's lap.

"What the hell, Claire?" Ethan's brow furrowed. A flash of caught-out guilt crossed his face.

I crossed the room and snatched the sketch from Zara's hand.

"You drew this?" I said coldly.

Zara shrank back behind Ethan. "Y-yes, I drew it. What's the problem?"

I slapped the paper against her face without hesitating.

"You've got some nerve, Zara. This is a draft I scrapped six months ago. My revision marks are still in the corner. And you have the audacity to pass it off as yours?"

Ethan picked up the sketch, studied it, and his expression shifted.

"Claire, you're misunderstanding," Zara said, tears already flowing freely. "I just found it in your drawer and thought it was beautiful, so I copied it. I wasn't trying to claim it --- I only wanted to show Ethan how much I've been practicing..."

She cried like she was heartbroken, as if she were the one being wronged.

"You copied it? You can't even get the perspective right. Is that what you're calling practice?" I stepped closer.

"Enough!" Ethan shoved me aside and pulled Zara behind him. "Claire, why do you always have to go for the throat? She told you it was a copy. Why are you making it into such a big deal?"

The shove sent me stumbling into the edge of the desk. Pain shot through my side.

But the physical pain was nothing next to the other kind.

"Ethan, are you blind? She plagiarized my work and you're defending her?"

"It's a discarded draft," he said with a dismissive shrug. "Who cares? Your hand is wrecked anyway --- you can't produce anything new right now. Zara wants to learn. You could just guide her a little. Isn't that what family does?"

A discarded draft. Who cares.

In his eyes, my craft, my pride, my professionalism --- all of it weighed less than one of Zara's tears.

I looked at this man and felt genuinely sick.

"Fine," I said, dragging in a slow breath, pushing back the wave of tears threatening to break through. "If you love her plagiarized garbage so much, Ethan, then the two of you can have each other."

I walked out of the study, went to the bedroom, and started packing.

I couldn't stay in this house another minute.

Ethan followed me in, watching me throw clothes into a suitcase, his frown deepening.

"What now? It's the middle of the night. Where are you even going?"

"Divorce." I said it without looking up.

He went still --- then let out a cold laugh. "Claire, don't use divorce as a weapon. You're seriously doing this over something this minor?"

"Minor?" I stopped packing and looked at him. "You let her ruin our anniversary. She burned my hand. She took my position. And now you're covering for her plagiarism. Any one of those things would be enough --- all four together and you're calling it minor?"

"Because I owe Daniel!" Ethan's voice rose, his eyes going red. "If it weren't for him, I'd have died in that fire. I made him a promise --- I would look after Zara. I can't go back on that!"

"Then go be with her!" I hurled the clothes in my hands at him. "You owe Daniel --- fine. Pay that debt yourself. Why should my life be the price? I don't owe the White family anything, Ethan. Not a single thing."

He stood there, stunned into silence.

I grabbed my suitcase and walked out without looking back.

The night air was cold, but for the first time in a long time, my head felt completely clear.

This broken thing we called a marriage --- it was time to end it.