Chapter 9
Clara
I was in the middle of fixing Noah's breakfast when there came a knock on my door.
Three times.
Not the right sort, though.
The confident type.
The type that said whoever was waiting outside figured I'd open it.
I dried my hands on a towel and headed for the door.
I opened it, and Alexander’s mother was there.
Margaret Vale.
Nice hair. The coat is perfect. Perfect stance.
Six years I'd been afraid of disappointing this woman.
I wasn't scared today.
I was drowsy.
“Good morning, Clara.
“Mrs Vale.
Her mouth firmed.
“You can call me Margret.”
I moved away.
She came in carrying a little handbag.
No helpers.
No driver.
No retinue.
That was a surprise in itself.
‘Where's Noah?’
“At the school.”
She nodded.
Then she looked up at me.
Seriously glanced at me.
And something shifted in her expression.
I had to apologise to you.
I nearly laughed.
Not because it was funny.
I had waited six years to hear such words.
“Why for?”
"For making you feel you didn't belong in this family."
I crossed my arms.
“You didn’t make me feel like that.”
She dropped her eyes.
“You are right.”
"I didn't expect that answer.
She sat on the arm of the sofa.
“I permitted it.”
The room was silent.
Margaret drew a slow breath.
“When you married Alexander, I told myself you’re young. That the marriage had been too soon. That in the end everything would fall into place."
“And it didn’t.
"No."
Her voice quavered slightly.
I saw my son treat you like a responsibility, not a wife. I saw you waiting for him at dinner. I observed you create excuses for him to miss Noah’s events.
My chest constricted.
“You saw all that?”
I witnessed everything.
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
She looked squarely at me.
"Because I was terrified of Alexander.
I blinked.
His mother.
Afraid of him?
“He was always so in control,” she went on. “If he was providing, protecting, and working, he would tell everybody that everything was fine.”
I swallowed hard.
"Sounds like him to a T.
Margaret smiled a sorrowful smile.
“Sure. Yes, it does.
She stood up.
“I want you to look at something.”
Where?”
"My home."
I halted.
The last place I wanted to be was at the Vale family estate.
There were too many memories there.
Too many evenings smiling, but not being seen.
I don’t think that’s a good one.”
Clara, please.
The way she said it stopped me in my tracks.
So I did.
The second I stepped into Margaret’s house, I sensed something was odd.
Papers were all around.
The kitchen island was covered in sticky notes.
The calendar had been taken away and substituted with something bigger.
I gave a glare.
“What’s happened here?
Margaret smiled.
"Alexander happened."
My belly tensed.
"What does that mean?"
She did not reply.
She just sent me to the dining room.
And I stood stock still.
A big whiteboard covered virtually the whole wall.
At first I assumed it was a prank.
Then I started to read.
MONDAY.
Noah school pickup, Alexander.
Noah-Alexander, football practice.
Dinner with Clara & Noah.
Tuesday.
Noah, doctor's appointment. Margaret.
Wednesday.
Alexander—Business meeting: Clara.
on Thursday.
Alexander. Grocery shopping.
on Friday.
Alexander, Noah, school project.
Wknds.
Breakfast with family.
Family day out.
No excuses.
My eyes fell.
Names were everywhere.
Margaret.
Alexander's father.
His sister. See more.
His brother.
Even two cousins I barely knew.
Every person had been allotted something.
I stared at one particular line.
Alexander — Every school event unless physically impossible.
Then another.
Alexander — Dinner with Clara. No phone.
My throat clenched.
“What is this?”
Margaret stood alongside me.
“Alexander made it.”
I shook my head.
“He made a schedule?”
“That was the plan.
“For what?””
To quit being away.
The words struck harder than they ought to.
I glanced back at the whiteboard.
This was not jewellery.
No flowers.
This wasn’t some dumb billion-dollar stunt for publicity.
Time it was.
His hour.
The one thing Alexander had always said he didn't have.
I leaned forward.
There was a second note.
Ask Clara what she wants. DO NOT ASSUME.
My eyes were smarting.
blinked quickly.
Nah.
I did not cry.
No. Not at all.
Margaret put a hand on my arm.
He comes here every morning before he goes to work.
I looked at her.
Every morning?
He updates the schedule himself.
I laughed bitterly.
“That’s not particularly romantic.”
"No," she said quietly. “It’s an upgrade.
I gazed at her.
“He finally understands that loving someone isn't about giving them everything except yourself.”
My heart twisted.
Because that was precisely what Alexander had done.
He had given me a house.
Money.
Security.
A beautiful life.
Everything except himself.
I turned away from the whiteboard.
“It's too late.”
Margaret didn't argue.
That almost stung more.
“I know you're angry,” she said.
“I’m not just angry.
I know," he said.
“I loved him.
“I know.”
“I waited for him.
“I know.
My voice cracked.
“And he told everyone I was just the safe choice.
Tears welled in Margaret’s eyes.
"He made a mistake."
He said, “Quiet.
Yes."
"That was worse."
She nodded her head.
"I know."
I looked back at the whiteboard.
For the first time, I could see the man behind the billionaire.
Not the cold CEO.
Not the man who could buy an entire building without blinking.
Just Alexander.
A father trying desperately to become present.
A husband who realises far too late what his absence has cost him.
And that was the problem.
Because some tiny, traitorous part of me wanted to believe him.
I hated that part.
I hated how my heart still reacted whenever his name was mentioned.
I hated that seeing his handwriting on that board made my chest ache.
Most of all, I hated that I wanted to know what had changed.
Margaret stepped toward me.
“He wants to tell you himself.”
I stiffened.
“Tell me what?”
She didn't answer.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
Slow.
Heavy.
Familiar.
I turned.
Alexander stood in the doorway.
No suit jacket.
No tie.
His sleeves were rolled to his elbows.
His expression was serious.
For once, there was no billionaire confidence in his eyes.
Only fear.
My heart stumbled.
“Clara.”
I crossed my arms.
“What?”
He glanced at his mother.
“Can we talk?”
“We've talked enough.”
“No.”
His voice was low.
“There is something you need to know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Another excuse?”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“This isn't an excuse.”
“Then what is it?”
His jaw stiffened.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked directly into my eyes.
“There is something I should have told you six years ago.”
My entire body went still.
“What?”
Alexander took a breath.
And the look on his face told me whatever came next would change everything.