"Since you're here," Clara said with a soft smile,
"why don't you join us?"
Her tone was warm.
Too warm.
Lena didn't answer immediately.
She glanced at Ethan.
He didn't stop it.
Didn't help either.
Good.
"I'd love to," Lena said.
Clara's smile deepened.
Just slightly.
They moved to a quieter corner.
A small group had already gathered.
People who knew Clara.
People who were watching.
Perfect audience.
"So," Clara began lightly,
"how are you finding married life?"
Simple question.
Carefully chosen.
Lena took a sip of champagne.
Calm. Unhurried.
"Efficient," she said.
A few people blinked.
"Efficient?" Clara repeated.
Lena smiled faintly.
"Yes. Everything is clear. Structured."
She paused.
"No unnecessary emotions."
A subtle shift in the air.
Clara's gaze flickered.
That wasn't the answer she expected.
"Of course," Clara said softly.
"That sounds… practical."
"But also a little cold, don't you think?"
There it was.
Lena tilted her head slightly.
"Is it?"
Clara stepped closer.
Just enough.
"I always thought marriage should be built on love," she said.
Then, gently—
"Not… arrangements."
A few quiet murmurs.
Lena didn't react.
Not immediately.
Instead—
She set her glass down.
Carefully.
Then looked at Clara.
Directly.
"I agree," Lena said.
Clara's eyes flashed.
For a second—
victory.
But then—
"Which is why," Lena continued,
"it's interesting you're still talking about his marriage."
Silence.
Sharp. Sudden.
Someone coughed.
Clara's smile froze.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Lena's tone didn't change.
Still soft.
Still polite.
"But I understand," she added.
"Letting go isn't easy."
That landed.
Hard.
Clara's fingers tightened around her glass.
Her knuckles turning white.
"You're misunderstanding," she said, her voice still calm.
"Am I?" Lena asked.
She took a small step forward.
"You seem a little too invested," Lena said softly,
"in another woman's husband."
The air turned heavy.
Eyes shifted.
Between them.
Clara laughed softly.
A little too soft.
"You're quite confident," she said.
Lena smiled.
"I have no reason not to be."
That was the moment.
The room shifted.
Clara felt it.
Everyone did.
And Ethan—
had been watching the entire time.
Silent.
Now—
he stepped forward.
"Clara," he said calmly.
Just her name.
But it was enough.
A line.
Drawn.
Clara looked at him.
Something unreadable in her eyes.
Then she smiled again.
Polished. Perfect.
"Of course," she said.
But this time—
it didn't reach her eyes.
The tension broke.
The conversation moved on.
But the atmosphere had already changed.
Lena picked up her glass again.
As if nothing had happened.
But beside her—
Ethan leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear.
Too close.
Deliberate.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Mrs. Carter?" he murmured.
Lena didn't look at him.
"I don't start things," she said softly.
A pause.
"But I finish them."
Ethan's gaze darkened.
For a moment—
he said nothing.
Then—
almost under his breath—
"You're dangerous."
Lena finally turned to him.
A faint smile.
"You married me."
Across the room—
Clara was still watching.
And this time—
there was no doubt.
This wasn't over.
It was just beginning.