The next morning—everything felt normal. Too normal.
Until it didn't.
"Mrs. Carter."
Lena looked up. The house staff stood at the doorway.
"There's an issue with your access."
Lena frowned slightly. "My access?"
"Your Black Card and the estate management accounts," the staff explained. "They've been temporarily restricted."
A pause.
Interesting.
"By who?" Lena asked.
The staff hesitated.
"Miss Clara."
Silence.
Lena leaned back slightly. Not surprised.
So this was how Clara played.
Quiet. Subtle. Effective.
"Fix it," Lena said calmly.
"I'm afraid I can't," the staff replied. "It requires Mr. Carter's authorization."
Of course it did.
Lena stood up.
"Then I'll speak to him."
The office door opened without warning.
Ethan didn't look up immediately.
"You're interrupting," he said.
"You'll survive," Lena replied.
That got his attention.
He looked up.
"What is it?"
Lena walked in. No hesitation.
"My access has been restricted."
Ethan's expression didn't change.
"Explain."
"Your assistant says it was done under Clara's instruction."
Silence.
A different kind this time.
Ethan's gaze hardened. Just slightly.
"She doesn't have that authority," he said.
"And yet," Lena replied calmly, "it happened."
Ethan stood.
In one step—the atmosphere shifted.
"Who approved it?" he asked.
Not to Lena.
To the assistant waiting by the door.
The man stepped in, clearly sweating.
"Sir, it was processed through Miss Clara's request—"
"I didn't ask how," Ethan cut in. His voice was dangerously quiet.
"I asked who gave her the authority," he said quietly, "to touch my wife's accounts."
Silence.
The assistant swallowed hard.
"She… she used her old clearance code, sir. No one questioned it."
That was enough.
"Revoke it," Ethan said.
"Permanently."
"Yes, sir."
The assistant practically fled the room.
The room went quiet again.
Lena watched him.
"You're fixing it?" she asked.
Ethan looked at her.
"She overstepped."
Simple. Clear.
But not complete.
Lena tilted her head slightly.
"That's all?"
A pause.
Ethan stepped closer.
"What exactly are you asking?" he said quietly.
Lena met his eyes. Unwavering.
"I'm asking," she said, "if you're going to handle your past… or if I should."
Silence. Heavy.
Ethan didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"I will handle it."
Something shifted. Again.
Lena held his gaze.
"Good."
She turned to leave.
But his voice stopped her.
"Lena."
She paused.
"You won't be dealing with this again."
Not a promise.
A statement.
Lena didn't turn around.
"Make sure of it."
Then she walked out.
Later that afternoon—the restriction was gone.
Everything restored.
And more.
Additional access. Higher clearance.
Interesting.
Lena smiled faintly.
That wasn't just a fix.
That was a response.
Across the city—Clara stared at her phone.
Her expression no longer calm.
"Interesting," she murmured.
So that's how he wanted to play.
Her fingers tightened slightly.
Then she smiled. Slow. Sharp.
"Fine."
"If he wants a game…"
Her eyes darkened.
"I'll make sure she realizes exactly what she is."
"A temporary replacement."
Back at the mansion—Lena stood by the window.
The sunlight felt warmer.
But something had changed.
This wasn't just tension anymore.
This was escalation.
And somewhere in between—
Ethan had chosen a side.
Even if he hadn't said it.
And this time—
he wasn't going to stay neutral.