Chapter 2

Clara Castaneda POV:

Brandon recoiled, his face a mask of disbelief, then anger. "Strangers? Clara, what the hell has gotten into you? This is insane! Are you really going to throw away our future over... over this?" He gestured vaguely at the scattered necklace box.

"Our future?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You mean your future, Brandon. The one you plan to build on my ashes and someone else's bed."

His eyes widened, and for a split second, a flicker of genuine fear crossed his face. He quickly composed himself, though, his jaw clenching. "What are you talking about? There's no one else. This is about us, about Benard, about our family!"

"Don' t you dare bring Benard into this," I snapped, my voice rising. The rage was a wild beast, clawing its way out. "Don't you dare pretend this is for anyone but yourself. I know your game, Brandon. I know exactly what you' re planning."

He took a step back, sensing the shift in my demeanor, the uncharacteristic ferocity. The air between us crackled with unspoken accusations, with truths that were only just beginning to surface. "Clara, you're being irrational. You're upset. Let's talk about this calmly."

"Calmly?," I echoed, my voice dripping with disdain. "You want calm? You want me to calmly sign away my career, my identity, so you can strut around this company with Cayla Scott on your arm?"

His face went white. The mention of Cayla had struck a nerve, a raw, exposed nerve. His feigned concern vanished, replaced by a defensive scowl. "Cayla? What does Cayla have to do with anything? She's a junior engineer, your mentee, for God's sake!"

"My mentee, who conveniently has a VP uncle, Chadwick Molina, just when a massive corporate restructuring is happening," I countered, my eyes burning into his. "My mentee, who suddenly becomes your confidante, your 'support system,' when your job is on the line."

He stammered, scrambling for words. "That's... that's absurd! You're imagining things. It's workplace gossip, nothing more." His eyes darted around the office, as if looking for an escape route.

"Is it?" I pressed, stepping closer, invading his personal space. "Or is it the truth you' ve been carefully hiding? The truth that you and Cayla, with her uncle's help, orchestrated this entire charade to get rid of me, so you could secure your position and climb even higher?"

He pushed past me, walking to his desk, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what kind of fantasy you've cooked up, Clara, but it's ridiculous. I'm trying to save my career, to provide for our family. And you're making wild accusations."

"Wild accusations?" I laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. "You' ll see how wild they are. Because I' m not going anywhere, Brandon. Not from this company, and certainly not from our life without a fight."

He spun around, his face dark with anger. "So that' s it? You' re going to sabotage me? You' re going to let us lose everything out of spite?"

"I' m going to protect myself," I corrected him, my voice firm. "Something I should have done a long, long time ago."

He glared at me, his eyes full of a venom I hadn't truly seen until now. The pretense of love, of concern, was gone. All that remained was raw, ugly resentment. "Fine. If that's how you want to play it, Clara. But don't come crying to me when you realize what you've lost."

"Oh, I won't be losing anything," I said, a slow, chilling smile spreading across my face. "I'll be reclaiming it."

I turned and walked out of his office, leaving him standing there, fuming, his carefully constructed world beginning to crack. As I stepped back into the bustling hallway of AeroCorp, the familiar hum of activity felt different. It was no longer a place of quiet devotion to my work, a place where I dreamed of shared futures. It was a battlefield, and the war had just begun. I squared my shoulders, a new resolve hardening my gaze. I wouldn' t just survive; I would thrive.