Chapter 4 - The Husband's Choice
The flashing lights of the federal vehicles painted the grand windows of the Manor in chaotic strokes of red and blue. The guests had been ushered out by Clara’s private security detail, leaving the massive atrium eerily empty, save for the shattered glass and discarded luxury.
Clara stood by the grand fireplace, looking into the dying embers. Oliver was safely upstairs, heavily guarded by Vanguard’s elite operatives.
Arthur walked slowly into the room. He looked exhausted, the foundations of his entire reality violently uprooted in a single hour. He poured two glasses of scotch from a crystal decanter and walked over to Clara, handing her one.
"Clara Frost," Arthur said softly, testing the name on his tongue.
"Are you angry?" Clara asked, taking the glass but not drinking. She searched his face for betrayal. "I lied to you, Arthur. For three years. I let you believe I was someone else."
Arthur looked down at the amber liquid in his glass. "I’m not angry about the money, Clara. I’m angry that you let her abuse you. I’m angry that you didn't tell me, so I could have stopped her sooner. Why did you endure it?"
"Because if I used my power, it would have destroyed your family," Clara said, her voice breaking slightly. "I loved you, Arthur. I didn't want to be the reason your mother was sent to federal prison. I kept thinking she would eventually accept me. I kept thinking the birth of her grandson would soften her." Clara looked up, a hard, unforgiving light returning to her eyes. "But when she tried to take my son... when she tried to convince you he wasn't yours... the gloves had to come off."
Arthur set his glass down. He took the scotch from Clara’s hand, set it on the mantle, and pulled her fiercely into his arms. He buried his face in her auburn hair, holding her so tightly it knocked the breath from her lungs.
"You are my family, Clara," Arthur whispered fiercely. "Not her. Never her. I will spend the rest of my life making up for the pain she caused you. I don't care if you're a waitress or a trillionaire. You are my wife. And she will never touch you or Oliver again."
Clara closed her eyes, a tear finally escaping and tracking down her cheek. The gamble had paid off. The love was real.
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"She's out on bail," Clara murmured against his chest. "My lawyers informed me. Her loyalists in the city pooled their money. She’s going to come for us, Arthur. A cornered rat is the most dangerous kind."
Arthur pulled back, his eyes dark with a protective, lethal resolve. "Let her come. She’s fighting a war she doesn't understand. She thinks she lost a company. By the time we’re done, she’s going to lose everything."
