Adrian clutched at his midriff, face flushing. When he saw Jonathan standing there—restrained fury in every line of him—his expression tumbled from pain into ugly, furious mockery. “Jonathan? Ha. So you’ve come to pick up the scraps. Clara, throwing yourself at your ex so fast? Jonathan, you belong to menial things—like picking up my old shoes.”
The words were bait. Jonathan’s eyes narrowed to slits. He stepped forward and, with a single, controlled motion, grabbed Adrian’s collar and drove a fist into his face. Blood split at Adrian’s lip; he staggered, dazed and defeated under the onslaught.
The restaurant broke into shocked noise. Vanessa shrieked and scrabbled at Jonathan’s sleeve, but he didn’t look at her. He turned only once to make sure Clara was on her feet, then faced Adrian like a man who’d finally decided the measure of what he would no longer tolerate.
Adrian—bleeding, humiliated—was a broken image of the man who once stood in the rain begging at Clara’s father’s gate. Now he lay crumpled by the consequences of his own cruelty.
Adrian staggered upright, blood streaking down his mouth, yet he laughed—a broken, manic sound. His finger jabbed toward Clara.
“Jonathan, hit me all you want! Even if you kill me, she’ll still love me. Clara loves me to death—she can’t live without me!”
His eyes burned with madness. “I regret everything, do you hear? I don’t acknowledge that filthy agreement. As long as I don’t sign, she’ll always be my wife. Mine!”
He turned that fevered gaze on her, raw and desperate. “Clara, come home with me. Enough of this nonsense. I promise—no more favoritism. One east wing, one west wing, both of you can live in peace. I was only hard on you to humble your pride. And Snowball—Snowball’s waiting at home. Don’t you miss it?”
He didn’t know Snowball was already gone, escorted away by Jonathan’s men and bound for the airport.
Clara looked at him—this man once admired, now pitiful and grotesque. His words were absurd, his eyes deranged. Slowly, firmly, she shook her head.
“Adrian, it’s over. I’m not going back.”
The ice in her voice cut deeper than any slap. His face twisted, first with disbelief, then fury.
“Fine! You think Jonathan is sincere? He’s just playing with you. You’ll see how long you last without me. Sooner or later, you’ll crawl back on your knees!”