Released from prison: My billionaire ex begs me back

An early autumn chill had settled over River City.

"I'm pregnant. Eight weeks. It's Ethan's."

"Mrs. Blackwood, Ethan loves me. Not you. The only thing you have is that title-nothing else."

"You've been married to him for three years with no child. Aren't you ashamed to still call yourself Mrs. Ethan Blackwood?"

.

The woman speaking was dressed head-to-toe in designer labels-flowy dress, flat shoes, impeccable makeup, flanked by two nannies and three bodyguards. She stood like a queen, looking down at Clara Walton with pure contempt.

Clara remained seated calmly on the sofa, watching her. Then she sighed softly and lifted her gaze-her expression peaceful, her voice even softer.

"And you are?" Clara asked with a polite smile.

Olivia Sterling froze.

Clearly, she hadn't expected anyone in River City not to know her. A-list actress, constantly in the media-Olivia assumed Clara was feigning ignorance.

"Olivia Sterling," she replied, irritation creeping into her tone. "Mrs. Blackwood, do us both a favor and sign the divorce papers. Stop clinging to Ethan."

She stared straight at Clara, taken aback by how unshaken this supposedly gentle woman seemed-completely unmoved by the threat. As if Olivia were beneath her notice.

It threw Olivia off balance. Before she could gather her thoughts, Clara stood up and offered a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Clara walked closer. "Miss Sterling, do you know how many women have claimed to be carrying Ethan's child in the past year? More than thirty."

Olivia's expression tightened.

"You're not the first," Clara continued, her smile unchanged. "And I doubt you'll be the last."

That smile sent a chill down Olivia's spine. Then Clara lightly rested a hand on Olivia's stomach. Olivia flinched and jerked backward.

"What are you doing?! Don't touch me! I know what you're trying to do-stay away from my baby!" she cried, shielding her belly in a panic.

Clara tilted her head, still smiling. "Are you absolutely certain it's Ethan's?"

"Of course I am!" Olivia snapped, a little too forcefully.

"Alright then," Clara said pleasantly. "But here's something you should know-Ethan had a vasectomy. He didn't want any. complications."

She let the words hang in the air before continuing, "So if you're sure it's his, by all means, have the child. The Blackwoods would be delighted to have a grandchild. They'll take good care of you."

Olivia's face went pale.

"But-" Clara's voice turned cold, "-if this story of yours isn't entirely true, you understand how serious the consequences could be, don't you?"

All the earlier casualness vanished from Clara's demeanor. Her eyes locked onto Olivia's, sharp and penetrating, as if she could see right through her. Olivia took an involuntary step back, visibly shaken.

"You know what Ethan hates most?" Clara added softly. "Being lied to. Especially by someone trying to pass off another man's child as his."

She didn't need to say more.

Olivia's earlier arrogance and false confidence crumbled. She turned and fled as if her life depended on it.

Just like that, it was over. Without Ethan even being present, Clara had made her point clearly-handling women like Olivia was effortless. Wiping them out of River City was only a matter of time.

.

Clara watched Olivia rush away and sighed again.

She really was playing the part of the capable, perpetually bored Mrs. Blackwood perfectly. From being shocked the first time a woman showed up at her door to resolving these confrontations in under ten minutes-now, she felt no sense of victory, only weariness.

Her eyes drifted thoughtfully downward before casually shifting toward the staircase-Ethan was there.

Of course he was. He had seen and heard everything, yet he looked utterly entertained, as though the mess wasn't his doing.

Clara let out a quiet, mocking laugh.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her against a solid chest. The familiar scent of tobacco and cologne washed over her-she didn't need to look up to know it was him.

"Darling," Clara murmured softly.

Ethan responded with a low "Mmm. You went to see your mother today?"

He meant Linda. Her health had been unstable lately, and she was still at Aurelux Hospital.

Clara nodded slightly.

Before she could react, Ethan turned her toward him. His lips brushed lightly against hers as he spoke. She didn't resist-just let it happen.

Her arms naturally wound around his neck. She hated how her body betrayed her-saying no with her words, but screaming yes with every gesture.

The atmosphere in the room shifted almost instantly.

"Clara," Ethan murmured against her mouth, "since when did I have a vasectomy?"

She stiffened for a half-second, then offered an awkward smile. "I had to shut her up, didn't I?"

Three years of marriage, and Clara had essentially been Ethan's stand-in-playing the perfect wife for his family and dealing with every woman who chased after him.

Their relationship was plastic, superficial-except in bed, where somehow, they always fit.

"You've been a little sharp with me lately," Ethan remarked.

Clara paused. "I wouldn't dare."

"Don't like handling these women?" He was still kissing her.

"It's whatever. Ten minutes each. They all use the same old tricks-nothing original," she mumbled lazily.

"."

Ethan chuckled-a low, almost irritated sound-then nipped her lip sharply.

Clara winced and fell silent. But as the tension between them built, she couldn't help muttering, "With so many women around you, why bother coming home to mess with me?"

"Jealous?" Ethan looked down at her.

.

Jealous, my foot. She swallowed the words and stayed quiet. Ethan didn't push further.

In the master bedroom, things quickly intensified. Heat, tension-River City's early autumn night carried a restless warmth that lingered long after.

.

Later, Ethan released her and headed toward the bathroom.

"Ethan," Clara called out suddenly.

He stopped mid-step and waited. She was biting her lip, eyes downcast, clearly weighing her words. He didn't hurry her.

Then she said it: "Let's get divorced."

The calm on Ethan's face shattered. His brows drew together sharply, and his voice turned low and tense. "What did you just say?"

"Ethan Blackwood," she repeated, using his full name, "let's get divorced."

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned and started walking back toward her. There was something overwhelmingly intense about his presence-each step made the air feel thinner.

But Clara didn't back down.

He stopped directly in front of her, tall and imposing. She met his gaze steadily and said, "She's back, isn't she? I saw the news."

Fiona Barrington was back.

She had always been the one Ethan truly loved. And Clara? She was just a substitute-a convenient stand-in to provoke Fiona's pride and lure her back. Everything Ethan did was for Fiona.

Now that the real one had returned, wasn't it time for the replacement to bow out? No point sticking around for more humiliation, right?

Clara lowered her head with a faint, almost mocking smile. But that smile somehow made her chest tighten. She knew she shouldn't care-really shouldn't-and yet, a dull ache lingered.

The worst part was Ethan-just standing there, watching her in total silence. His gaze alone made her skin prickle.

"What do you want?" he finally said, his voice eerily calm, as though they were discussing the weather and not the end of their marriage. But Clara could tell-he wasn't opposed to the idea. Not at all.

She smiled brightly, as if it were no big deal. If anything, she looked. relieved.

"Just cover my mother's medical expenses," she said lightly. It wasn't an unreasonable request.

Theirs had always been a transaction-he needed a shield; she needed money.

Ethan's eyes darkened slightly, thoughtful. To be fair, over the past three years, Clara had played her role flawlessly. No fuss, no unnecessary demands. Even his family adored her. And she never overstepped.

If Clara was a tool in his game, then so was he.

After a moment of silence, he said, "I'll transfer the villa to your name. You can stay-I'll move out. I'll also write you a check for 50 million to cover your mother's treatment." He made it sound trivial, almost careless.

"Thank you, darling." Clara's smile reached her eyes.

That one word-darling-oddly soothed his temper. But before the feeling could settle, she handed him a folder. Instantly, his expression tightened.

Inside was the divorce agreement.

"I've already signed. I'm not taking anything with me. Take a look-if it's acceptable, have your lawyer finalize it," she said, pushing the document toward him.

Ethan skimmed through it. She had drafted it herself, yet every clause favored him. She'd even included a confidentiality agreement, swearing never to disclose her identity as his ex-wife.

It was as if she felt nothing toward the title of Mrs. Blackwood-like an employee tired of her job, turning in her resignation without a second thought.

That brief sense of control he'd felt vanished, replaced by pure irritation.

"Fine," Ethan said flatly. He agreed without another word.

A divorce was inevitable-yes. But it should have been on his terms, not Clara beating him to it.

So he seized back the lead in the very next breath. "My lawyer, Nathaniel, will be in touch."

Clara nodded politely.

"Revise the agreement to include what I just offered. And for the next three months, my family must not know we're divorced," he added coolly.

Clara frowned, slightly taken aback. She hadn't expected additional conditions. But when she thought of how kindly his family had treated her, she eventually agreed.

Ethan didn't say another word. He turned and walked into the shower. The water started running, followed by the sharp slam of the bathroom door.

Clara shrugged. She truly had no idea what she'd done to set him off this time. If it doesn't make sense, don't dwell on it.

That night, like every other night over the past three years, Ethan didn't stay at the villa. Once again, Clara Walton was left alone in that cold, empty house.

The next day, she moved out.

Ethan was away on a business trip when the housekeeper called to inform him Clara was gone. She hadn't left a single thing behind except what she'd brought with her-the place was spotless.

As if she couldn't wait to leave. Not a trace of sentimentality remained.

The housekeeper went on and on about how thorough Clara had been. Rubbing his forehead, Ethan felt a headache coming on. His mind echoed with one name-Clara.

Eventually, he simply hung up.

.

One month later, River City General Hospital.

Clara stared down at the paper in her hands. The words "Pregnancy Confirmed" seemed to burn through the page. Her head spun. She never expected. that she would end up pregnant.

With Ethan's child.

The irony wasn't lost on her. They'd been married three years, and Ethan had always been careful. They both knew theirs was a marriage of convenience-emotional complications were messy enough; a child would make everything worse. So nothing had ever happened.

Until that one night.

The night Ethan found out Fiona Barrington was engaged-he'd lost control.

And she had let her guard down.

The memory only frustrated her more. She kept staring at those two glaring words on the report.

The doctor beside her didn't even look up. "If you don't want the child, it's better to take care of it soon. The longer you wait, the more complicated it becomes."

That snapped her back to reality. Clara's face remained calm, her voice steady. "I'm not keeping it. Doctor, when is the earliest I can schedule the procedure?"

The doctor flipped through her file emotionlessly. "Earliest appointment is in a week. We're fully booked till then." He sighed. "You young people-did no one ever teach you about protection?"

He continued muttering under his breath, but Clara didn't argue. She simply nodded politely.

Then she stood and followed the nurse out to schedule the appointment.

With the appointment card in hand, she walked out of the hospital without looking back. She'd only taken the morning off-she still had to return to work that afternoon. When you're an ordinary office worker, you can't afford to take time off lightly.

.

That evening, Clara stepped out of a black Toyota-a ride from a coworker.

She stood for a moment, her hair tied in a loose fishtail braid, and waved goodbye to the driver.

Something the driver said made her laugh-a bright, genuine sound.

Once the car drove off, she turned toward her apartment building.

But she froze right at the entrance.

There, leaning against the doorframe as if he owned the place, was Ethan.

Dressed sharply as always-black slacks, a crisp white shirt buttoned meticulously to the top. Cold, restrained, and utterly unapproachable.

A cigarette dangled casually between his fingers, smoke curling around him, but it did nothing to soften his intimidating aura. If anything, it made him seem more dangerous.

He wasn't wearing his glasses.

And when Ethan took off his glasses, it usually meant he wasn't in the mood to play nice.

On pure instinct, Clara didn't step closer. She kept her distance.

She had no idea why Ethan was here-and she wasn't about to find out the hard way.

A month had passed since the divorce-or what Clara believed was a divorce-and not once had Ethan Blackwood appeared before her.

"Come here," Ethan commanded, his voice sharp, his gaze locking onto Clara as if he expected immediate compliance.

Clara didn't move. She remained rooted where she stood.

Truth be told, the fact that she hadn't already walked away was a testament to her self-control. She was no one's pet, summoned at will. What gave him the right?

"Clara, I said come here," he repeated, this time loading her name with clear warning.

That finally drew a response. "Mr. Blackwood, we are divorced. You don't get to order me around anymore. If you have something to say, say it from there."

A clean, cold refusal. She wasn't just saying no-she was making sure he felt it.

From what Clara remembered, Ethan hated nothing more than being defied. Under normal circumstances, he would have turned and left in cold anger rather than prolong the confrontation.

But she had underestimated him.

Calmly, Ethan stubbed out his cigarette and began walking toward her-each step slow, deliberate, cutting through the tension of the night.

His figure drew closer, imposing and intense. Clara instinctively took one step back, then held her ground.

"Clara, since when do you mess around with other men?" The words shot out of him like an accusation, dripping with something that sounded almost like jealousy.

When Clara had smiled at that man earlier, it had transformed her entire expression-like sunlight piercing through clouds. Ethan barely recognized her.

Throughout their marriage, her smiles had been polite, distant, never quite reaching her eyes.

But tonight she seemed. different. Vibrant. And that version of her was meant for someone else.

The more Ethan dwelled on it, the more unsettled he became. Had it all been an act those three years?

Clara, meanwhile, met his gaze with an air of pure innocence. "Mr. Blackwood, we're divorced. Am I not allowed to see other people? You already have your first love hanging on your arm."

She raised a brow. "Does Miss Barrington know you're here with me? Should I give her a call and let her know?"

With that, she actually reached for her phone.

But before she could unlock it, Ethan snatched it from her hand. His voice turned to ice. "Clara. That divorce only exists in your head."

She stared, caught off guard.

How could a divorce be "in her head"?

They had signed the agreement-hadn't they?

Before she could gather her thoughts, Ethan clarified, "I never signed it. Legally, we're still married. Which means you are not free to see other people."

Clara: "."

Wait-what?

Hadn't he been the one eager to finalize everything? With Fiona back, shouldn't he have been in a hurry to move on?

The tabloids were full of photos of them together-rumors of cohabitation and reconciliation. Clara had truly believed she was free of that tangled mess.

But no. Ethan had chosen now to pull the rug out from under her.

He never signed?

Was he serious?

"The press may not know you're still Mrs. Blackwood, but my family does," he said, looming over her as though he held all the moral authority. "If this gets out and my grandfather hears of it, how do you plan to explain yourself? I won't be made the fool whose wife is openly seeing other men."

Ethan's tone grew even sharper, edged with something dark. "Whose car were you in earlier?"

He clearly had no intention of letting this go. His long fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her abruptly toward him. Off-balance, Clara stumbled, nearly colliding with his chest.

All she could smell was the faint mix of tobacco and a familiar perfume-Fiona's signature scent.

Clara snapped back to her senses instantly. With a cold laugh, she pushed him away without hesitation. "Oh? Does Miss Barrington know you're still legally tied to me?"

"Are you threatening me?" Ethan's eyes narrowed.

Clara nodded, utterly serious. "Yes. Why not keep this simple? You sign the papers, we file at the registry, and you're free. No threats, no fuss. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She couldn't imagine being a more accommodating ex-wife-she was even making it easier for him to be with someone else. She hadn't even brought up the child they'd had during the marriage. Really, Ethan ought to know when to quit. Even a cornered rabbit will bite.

Her attitude, however, only seemed to provoke him further. Ethan had never seen her like this-defiant, assured, utterly beyond his reach.

Throughout their three-year marriage, Clara had always been gentle and accommodating. She never argued, never set clear boundaries, so he had constantly tested her limits.

But Clara had been like a perfectly tempered spring-always rebounding, never breaking.

Back then, Ethan had really believed he was her entire world.

Now, it felt like she was slapping him in the face with the truth.

His expression darkened. In one swift motion, he gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

She frowned, her face full of defiance.

"Clara, were you in such a hurry to divorce me because of that man today?" Ethan demanded.

"Yes," Clara shot back without hesitation. "So don't get in the way of my happiness."

"Does he know you were married?" Ethan's grip tightened slightly.

"Of course. He even knows I'm divorced," she replied coolly.

Ethan was taken aback by her bluntness- rendered speechless. He could only glare at her, the air between them growing colder by the second.

Then, suddenly, his phone rang.

Without a moment's hesitation, Clara reached into the pocket of his suit pants and pulled out the phone.

To Ethan, the gesture was utterly audacious. The slight brush of her fingers through the fabric sent a jolt of heat straight through him-rising from his toes and coiling low in his abdomen.

Just like that, the possessiveness in his eyes broke loose.

Then came Clara's voice, dripping with casual indifference: "It's your precious Fiona. Should I answer it for you?"

It was a direct challenge.

Sure enough, the screen displayed Fiona Barrington's name.

Fiona was the clingy type. The moment she lost sight of Ethan, she'd spiral-calling relentlessly until she found him.

Clara, on the other hand, treated him as if he were air. No matter where he went or what he did, she simply didn't care.

"Answer it," Ethan said, his eyes still locked on Clara.