Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen?
The next day was full of surprises for Clara.
The couple woke up, still tangled together in the sheets. Both were not yet ready to start their day—it had been a week too long since Ethan went to visit his grandmother. Clara had missed him dearly. Sunlight spilled across their tangled limbs, painting the small room in soft gold, but neither wanted to move.
Adrian, on his part, was still savoring holding Clara this way before he’d reveal everything to her about his true self. He dreaded how she’d react. If only she could see the man beneath the lies—and still love him.
Clara’s eyes lazily drifted to the unique sapphire ring glinting on her finger. The jeweler’s words echoed in her mind. She hesitated, then asked softly, “Ethan… our wedding ring. I need to know where it came from.”
Adrian stilled. He turned toward her, expression unreadable. “I’ll tell you everything. But not here. Not like this.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “Let’s have breakfast first. I’ll order something special and we’ll talk, before we head to the office.”
Before she could protest, he was on his feet, heading into the bathroom. Adrian dressed in an expensive navy blazer and leather shoes, his wristwatch glinting in the sun rays entering from the window. Clara could scarcely believe her eyes. Where did all this come from?
Adrian ordered breakfast from a popular diner in town. The breakfast spread looked like something out of a dream — truffle omelets, smoked salmon on warm brioche, and a bowl of jewel-like berries glistening under morninglight. But what caught Clara’s attention was the decadent slice chocolate cake sitting quietly at the edge of the tray.
Her breath caught. He remembered.
It was the same kind of cake they’d once bought from the corner bakery, the one they shared on a cold night when money was tight but laughter was plenty. Now, it sat surrounded by silver cutlery and linen napkins — a reminder that no matter how the world around them had changed, he still remembered her favorite sweets.
Adrian watched as Clara’s lips parted in surprise.
“You kept saying this was the only cake worth ruining a diet for,” he said with a quiet smile.
She laughed softly, her eyes misting. “You actually remembered that?”
“I remember everything about you.”
She took a bite, and for a moment, the world melted away — just the two of them and the familiar flavor. It was the most delicious thing Clara had ever had in her life. The chocolate cake desert was to die for.
“I promise I’m going to treat you to delicious treats for the rest of your life.”
“Ethan, I don’t understand. How are you able to afford all this? How are you able to dress like this? Please…”
Adrian closed his blues eyes for a second, then opened them, reaching out to grasp Clara’s hand. “Thing is, my name is not Ethan,” he said, voice low. “It never was. I had to become someone else—to uncover what was destroying my company. I’m Adrian. I know this is difficult to process Clara, but I’m still me. And I love you very much. I can’t live without you.”
“What are you saying Ethan?” Clara said, shocked. “What do you mean? How can you not be—That’s impossible.”
“I know you don’t believe me, but you’ll see. Come on. There’s a car waiting.”
Outside, Clara gasped. Parked at the curb was a sleek black Mercedes car with a driver. Adrian opened the door for her, his movements smooth, practiced.
“Ethan…” she murmured, her confusion mounting. Her heart wanted to believe the man she loved, even as her mind began to crumble under the truth. But his smile disarmed her.
Inside, leather seats cradled her like royalty. Clara could scarce believe her eyes at the luxury surrounding her. “We’re celebrating later tonight,” Adrian said. “Dinner with my family, I want to introduce you to my grandmother. But first, you’ll need something to wear.”
Clara’s brows knit but Adrian only smiled. The car pulled up outside a boutique she had only ever admired from afar—its windows glittering with gowns that cost more than her yearly salary. As the driver parked the car, Adrian’s phone rang. He stared, then spoke to Clara.
“I need to handle something quickly my love. Here’s my card—go in and get whatever you like. I’ll be with you shortly.” Adrian handed Clara a black card, his name Adrian C. embossed in gold on it.
Clara collected the card nervously. She had no idea what it was really worth. Anyway, she planned to window shop at least until he got there. She clutched the card like it might vanish any second, half certain this was all a dream she’d wake from soon.
The store was an upscale boutique, its marble floors gleaming beneath chandeliers. Adrian had insisted she needed a dress worthy of the evening. Clara had never set foot in such a place, and she clutched her worn purse nervously as racks of silks and velvets surrounded her. The air scented faintly of jasmine and new fabric.
But before she could catch her breath, a sharp, familiar voice sliced the air.
“Clara?”
Her stomach dropped.
Julia stood by a mirrored column, draped in a designer gown, her parents at her side. Gerald’s smug smile deepened when he spotted Clara.
“Well, look wandered in,” Julia drawled. “And what are you doing here, Clara? Window-shopping? Or did you finally stoop to stealing?”
Gerald chuckled, though his eyes were tired. Margaret’s lips curled. “She probably wandered in by mistake. This place is for people who belong.”
“Yes” Julia sneered. “Places like this aren’t for beggars.”
Heat climbed Clara’s cheeks. She straightened her shoulders.
“I’m here with my husband. He brought me.”
The laughter that followed was merciless. Margaret’s eyes glittered with cruelty. “You’re married? To what’s his name—Ethan? And you’re proud of that? Julia has caught the richest, most eligible man in this city. And you—” she looked Clara up and down, disdain dripping from every syllable, “—you’re still rolling around with nothing. This is a world class designer store. How could you even dream of affording a dress here?”
The store manager, overhearing, eyed Clara with disdain. “Madam, perhaps you should leave. We cater to a certain… clientele. This is not the place for you. If you cannot afford to purchase, I must ask you to leave. We cannot have loiterers making our customers uncomfortable.”
Clara’s lips parted in shock. “I—what?”
Julia smirked, feigning pity. “Better search her. Who knows, she might have slipped something into that shabby bag of hers.”
A few shoppers turned to stare at the unfolding drama.
Clara burned with humiliation. Her eyes stung as the manager waved her staff forward. For a moment, she wished the floor would swallow her whole.
Then Madam Claude, the store owner strode in from her office, dressed in the finest silk, her French accent accentuating each word. “What’s going on here? What’s all the noise about?”
The store manager quickly came forward. “Madam, we wish to make sure this woman didn’t steal anything before we escort her out.”
“What nonsense!” Clara hissed. “I’m not a thief. Is this how you treat all your customers? I only came here to buy a dinner dress.” She thrust out the black card Adrian gave her.
Madam Claude eyes widened, sighting the card. “Oh my God, where did you get that card young lady? There are very few of those lying around, and only one person in this City that has one endorsed with his name. Its lowest limit is at least one billion dollars.”
Everyone gasped, including Clara and the Bennetts.
“How can that be, she’s a pauper.” Gerald muttered, astonished.
“I knew it—she definitely stole that card,” Julia chimed in quickly.
Madam Claude frowned. “Let me see that, young woman.” Clara handed the card to Madam Claude. She brought out her expensive smartphone and made a call.
“Hello, Sir, lovely to talk with you once again. Please, sorry to bother, but there’s a young woman here…What?? Oh dear.” The owner paled. “I—I apologize deeply. The lady…This will be corrected immediately.”
The boutique owner herself rushed forward to Clara, her face flushed with awe. She nearly tripped in her haste to bow. “Madame! Forgive us. We didn’t realize who you were Mrs. Clara, please accept my deepest apologies.”
She turned on the store manager with venom. “This woman,” she said, gesturing to Clara, “is my personal guest. And you allowed her to be insulted in my establishment?”
The shocked manager started apologizing.
“Enough. You’re dismissed. Effective immediately.” Madam Claude turned to the Bennetts, “You lot should all leave at once, and none of you are welcome here anymore. Security!”
Gasps rippled through the boutique. The Bennets’ faces drained of color. Julia’s mouth fell open, her smile crumbling. Gerald tugged at his collar in humiliation.
The Bennetts were escorted off the property.
Clara stood rooted, confusion spiraling.
The boutique owner bustled to bring forth the finest gowns, draping Clara in shimmering gold and scarlet satins, velvet coat settling around her shoulders.
Clara’s pulse thundered in her ears. Nothing made sense. Ethan Hayes was her husband. Ethan Hayes lived in a shabby flat and wore patched jackets. Ethan Hayes didn’t command boutiques or wield black cards.
But Adrian… did. Who exactly was he?
Then the boutique’s glass doors opened again. Heads turned. Clara’s husband stood in the doorway.
The boutique owner hurried over in seconds, breathless, eyes wide. “Sir! I—I didn’t know you’d be coming in today.”
His gaze flicked to Clara, noting her expression, then back to Madam Claude. Cold fury burned in his eyes. “What happened?” he hissed, but Clara shook her head.
Sighing Adrian turned to Madam Claude, “Bring out all your best outfits, I need a full wardrobe for my wife.”
And Clara—Clara’s heart stopped when the owner bowed low and said the words that changed everything.
“Of course, Mr. Cole. Anything for you.”
Her world tilted. Mr. Cole? Adrian Cole?
Her gaze flew to Ethan—Adrian—and in that moment the puzzle pieces slammed into place. This morning conversation. Her job. The ring. The lies.
The silver streak in his hair.
He stepped to her side, his hand brushing hers, steady despite the storm in her eyes.
“Clara, all will be explained I promise.” he murmured.
Then, without hesitation, he selected a gown for her—a gold dress that shimmered like sunlight, “try this.”
Adrian selected a whole set of attires for her. At the counter, he paid with his black card, the kind whispered about as the mark of the world’s elite.
Adrian crossed the room, calm and unbothered, his dark eyes never leaving Clara’s. He offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
Clara clutched the shopping bags to her chest, questions spiraling like a hurricane. Who was this man she loved? Ethan Hayes, her husband—or Adrian Cole, the richest, most untouchable man in the city?