"Marry me, or I’ll make a scene in the media!" Moana threatened.

"Horison! Get Moana out of this room!" Sean shouted.

Horison came over and immediately forced Moana out. Of course, Moana resisted and threw a tantrum, drawing the attention of the employees.

Horison finally forced Moana out of Sean’s office.

The woman screamed hysterically as she was forced to leave. She resisted, cursing Horison and the security guards who were holding her arms.

"Let me go, you bastard!"

However, Moana didn’t lose her head. She did leave her boyfriend’s office. But she was determined to go to Sean’s parents’ house.

**********

The Weasley household felt cold and stiff as usual. Mrs. Weasley nearly dropped her teacup when she saw Moana standing in the living room.

"You?" her voice rose. "What are you doing here?"

"I’m looking for Sean," Moana replied without beating around the bush.

"Don’t lie! We know everything that happens at Sean’s office. There are plenty of informants sharing information with us. We know you just met with Sean!" Mrs. Weasley looked furious.

"I’m sorry if I lied," Moana cut in.

"Get out of my sight! I’m sick of seeing your face!"

"Ma’am, I lost your grandchild. I had a miscarriage," Moana said, her eyes teary yet fiery.

"Don’t call me ’Ma’am’ and don’t mention the word ’grandchild’! Your child isn’t my grandchild! My grandchild is only the child born from Clara’s womb!" Mrs. Weasley took a deep breath.

"Sean is going through a difficult time," she said coldly. "And your presence is only making things worse."

Moana laughed bitterly. "So my presence is considered a problem in this family?"

"Yes! You always bring trouble," Mrs. Weasley replied without hesitation.

Those words cut deeper than Moana had expected.

She took a step back, her chest rising and falling.

"Fine," she said softly. "I understand. Don’t blame me if I do something reckless!"

She turned and walked away without looking back.

"You filthy woman! How dare you threaten me!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, but Moana ignored her.

---

Night had fallen.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Sean stood in front of Mrs. Diana’s house. His hands were clenched, his breath held.

He knocked on the door hesitantly.

The door opened. And Clara stood there. Her face was thinner, but her eyes looked calm. Too calm, even.

"What do you want?" she asked flatly.

"We need to talk," Sean said quickly. "I’m asking for your time—just five minutes."

Clara hesitated for a moment, then opened the door wider.

"Three minutes," she said. "And that’s already generous."

They sat across from each other in the living room.

"I want to make peace," Sean said without beating around the bush. "We can fix this."

Clara gave a faint smile. Not a happy smile—but the smile of someone who had given up hope.

"You’re too late," she said.

"I’m asking for a second chance," Sean continued. "I’ll change."

"You always say that," Clara replied calmly. "And I always believed you."

Sean stepped closer. "I need you."

"No," Clara replied. "You’re just selfish! You’re greedy and don’t want to be left behind!"

Those words silenced Sean.

"You love me, don’t you?" he asked softly.

Clara stared at him for a long time. A very long time.

"I used to," she said honestly. "And it almost destroyed me."

She stood up. "Not anymore. There’s no love left for you!"

Sean stood up. "Clara—"

"Go away," she said firmly. "And don’t come back."

"Clara, please, give me a second chance!"

Clara stared at Sean without blinking. There was no longer any tremor in her eyes. No tears were waiting to fall. All that remained was a cold resolve.

"A second chance?" she repeated softly. "Sean, you’ve already used up every chance I ever gave you."

Sean took a step closer, his voice softening, almost pleading. "I admit it, I was wrong. I admit it. But I’m still your husband. We’re still bound together."

Clara gave a small smile. A bitter smile, but an honest one.

"We are bound together. But bound on paper," she said. "Not in my heart."

She reached for the thin folder on the table. Sean recognized the law firm’s logo in the corner. His chest tightened instantly.

"I’ve already hired a lawyer," Clara continued calmly. "The divorce papers are being processed. You’ll receive the summons soon."

Sean fell silent. His face went pale.

"You... you’re really capable of going this far?" his voice was hoarse.

"I’ve actually waited too long," Clara replied. "Now I’m just catching up with myself."

Sean shook his head, disbelieving. "You’re doing this because of Moana, aren’t you? Because of that gossip?"

"No," Clara replied quickly. "I’m doing all this because of you. Because you’ve always hurt me."

Silence hung between them.

Sean let out a long sigh, then lowered his voice. "If you leave... everything will fall apart. I won’t let you go."

Clara shrugged slowly. "No. The only thing that will fall apart is the world you built on your lies. My world won’t fall apart."

She walked toward the door and opened it.

"Go, Sean. It’s been more than three minutes," she said emotionlessly. "I need to rest."

Sean stood frozen for a few seconds. Then, his jaw clenched, he stepped outside.

The door closed.

There was no loud noise. No shouting. Yet the sound still felt painful to Sean. More precisely, to his pride.

-----

Outside the house, Sean stood for a long time under the light of the porch lamp. His hands were clenched, his breathing heavy. For the first time, Moana’s threats, Clara’s rejection, and his parents’ anger converged at a single point—within his own vulnerability.

He pulled out his phone.

The screen was filled with a dozen missed calls from Moana.

"Oh, damn it!"

Sean closed his eyes for a moment, then put his phone back in his pocket without returning a single call.

*****$$

---

That night, Sean’s house wasn’t completely dark. The guards were still awake at the security post. The housekeepers had already retired to their respective rooms.

Moana arrived at the house in a rage. She cursed out each of the workers at Sean’s house one by one and kept making threats. Finally, security let Moana in.

The night grew late. The living room lights glowed dimly, just enough to reveal the figure lying on the long sofa near the window. Moana was curled up there, her body wrapped in a thin blanket, her hair left loose and disheveled. Her face was pale, or at least made to look pale.

On the small table, she had deliberately arranged medications and used tissues. A glass of water was left half-empty, as if she were too weak to finish it.

Around 11 p.m., the front door opened.

Sean entered with heavy steps. His face was weary, his thoughts tangled, his emotions still reeling from Clara’s rejection earlier that day.

The moment he saw Moana in his home, Sean’s eyebrows immediately furrowed.

"Moana?" his voice sounded wary. "What are you doing here?"

Moana opened her eyes slowly, like someone just waking up from a long illness.

"I was waiting for you..." she said softly. Her voice sounded hoarse, fragile. "I’m not feeling well. I called you, but you didn’t answer."

Sean closed the door, then stood still for a few seconds. A sense of irritation arose, mixed with the exhaustion weighing on his chest.

"You should go home," he said curtly.

Moana tried to sit up, then winced deliberately. Her hand reflexively pressed against her stomach.

"I’m dizzy... and my stomach still hurts," she said softly. "I’m afraid to be alone, Sean."

Sean let out a long, heavy sigh.

He stepped closer, standing in front of the sofa. He looked Moana up and down. No warm touch. No genuine concern.

"You need to see a doctor," he said flatly.

Moana shook her head slowly. "I just need you."

That line usually worked.

Sean sat on the sofa across from his girlfriend, but kept his distance. He took off his jacket, tossing it carelessly over the armrest.

"I’m dealing with a lot of problems," he said. "I can’t always be there for you."

Moana looked at her boyfriend, her eyes glistening. "I know. But I’m suffering too."

Those words made Sean’s jaw tighten.

"Go to sleep. You must be exhausted."

The night wore on.

Somehow, Moana ended up in Sean’s room. Somehow, Sean no longer resisted. He was too tired to argue; his mind was too cluttered to fight back.

Moana pressed herself against Sean’s body on the bed. She sought warmth, seeking validation through touch and closeness. Sean let her.

Their bodies were close.

But Sean’s mind... was far away.

He closed his eyes, but it wasn’t Moana who appeared. It was Clara.

The way Clara stood in the doorway of her mother’s house. The way Clara said, "Go away." The way Clara looked at him without fear, without hope. It made Sean feel uneasy.

Sean opened his eyes. His chest felt hot. Not from sexual desire—but from a surge of anger that found no outlet.

Moana had fallen asleep first, her breathing steady. Sean, on the other hand, was wide awake.

"Why are my thoughts so chaotic?"

He rose slowly from the bed, walking to the bedroom window. He pulled the curtains open slightly. The city lights glowed like a mockery.

His hands clenched into fists.

"Damn it! She rejected me. She’s starting to dare to decide her own life."

Sean let out a short laugh. Without humor.

"No," he muttered softly. "It’s not that simple, Clara."

In his head, a thought grew wildly, darkly, and felt logical to him.

"If Clara won’t do as I ask, then I’ll kidnap her." Sean smiled crookedly.