That afternoon, Mrs. Diana didn’t go home.

She headed straight for a place she had been avoiding ever since Clara came home from the hospital: the Weasley family home.

The large gate swung open slowly. The guards looked surprised to see Mrs. Diana step out of the car unaccompanied, without a smile, and without any preamble.

"I want to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," she said coldly. "Now."

Her tone was not a request.

A few minutes later, she was standing in the house’s spacious living room. Mrs. Weasley sat with a tense expression, while Mr. Weasley stood near the window, his back stiff.

"We’ve heard the news," Mrs. Weasley said first, her voice cold and defensive. "But don’t make accusations without proof."

Mrs. Diana glared at her.

"My daughter was kidnapped from my home," she said slowly, emphasizing every word. "I was knocked unconscious by a stranger. And the only person who stands to gain from Clara’s disappearance is your son."

Mr. Weasley spun around. "That’s a serious accusation."

"And kidnapping is a serious crime," Mrs. Diana replied without flinching. "I’ve already reported it to the police."

That statement made Mrs. Weasley jump.

"You—you involved the police?" her voice rose.

"I’m a mother," Mrs. Diana replied coldly. "Not a woman who can be silenced with money."

A tense silence fell.

Mrs. Diana took a step forward. Her face was hard, her eyes blazing with anger held in for too long.

"Listen to me carefully," she said. "If your son is really behind this—if Clara is touched, hurt, or forced to do anything—I won’t stay silent."

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Weasley, his voice heavy.

"I’ll expose everything," Mrs. Diana replied without hesitation. "All the secrets. All the sins. All the dirty tricks your family has ever pulled to save the Weasley name."

Mrs. Weasley stood up abruptly. "Are you threatening us?"

"I’m warning you," Mrs. Diana retorted sharply. "And believe me, a mother who’s lost her child has nothing left to fear."

She grabbed her bag, ready to leave.

"Tell Sean," she continued before turning away, "that if he thinks he can lock Clara up and get away with it... he’s sorely mistaken."

Mrs. Diana walked out without looking back.

"Ma’am, please calm down. We can discuss this as a family." Mr. Weasley tried to intervene.

But Mrs. Diana was already too worked up.

**********

Clara didn’t sleep that night. She sat leaning against the headboard, her eyes wide open, staring at the locked bedroom door. Every footstep of the guard outside sounded clear—rhythmic, steady, like a reminder that her freedom had truly been taken away.

This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was kidnapping. And the culprit was her own husband.

Clara took a deep breath, trying to suppress the trembling in her chest. She had cried enough last night. Now, she wasn’t crying anymore. Clara realized that crying wouldn’t open a way out. Panic wouldn’t make Sean change his mind.

"He’s completely crazy!" Clara snorted.

She had to hold on.

*********

Morning arrived with blindingly bright light. The bedroom door opened from the outside.

A female maid entered, followed by two guards standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, Mrs. Clara," the maid said with feigned politeness. "Your breakfast is ready."

Clara turned her head slowly. Her gaze was sharp.

"Tell Sean," she said coldly, "I don’t want breakfast. I demand to be released."

The maid bowed her head, clearly used to hearing such demands.

"I have no authority, Madam."

"Then who has authority over my life?" Clara rose from the bed. "He is my husband, not my master."

There was no reply. The servant bowed his head without uttering a single word.

Clara gave a short, cynical laugh. "Of course. You’ll have a hard time doing anything. You’re all just pawns."

She walked over to the table, staring at the neatly arranged food—all her favorite dishes laid out there. Sean still remembered his wife’s tastes.

That obsession was repulsive.

"I won’t eat," Clara said firmly.

The servant hesitated. "Mr. Sean—"

"Just tell him," Clara cut in, "I won’t do anything he wants!"

---

That afternoon, Sean arrived.

He didn’t go straight into the room. He stood outside, talking to the guard, making sure everything was "going well." When the door was finally opened, Sean stepped inside with a calm expression.

Too calm.

Clara was standing near the window. As soon as she saw her husband, she didn’t move, nor did she scream.

"You’ve gone mad," Clara said flatly. "And now you’re not even trying to hide it."

Sean took a few steps closer. "I know you’re angry."

"I’m not angry," Clara replied quickly. "I’m just disgusted."

Those words hit Sean harder than a slap.

Sean stopped in his tracks. His jaw tightened. "I’m doing this for us."

"No," Clara snapped, turning to face him. "You’re doing this for your own ego. Because you can’t accept the fact that you were left behind."

Sean sighed, trying to calm himself. "You’re safe here. No media. No legal pressure. No mother of yours influencing you."

Clara chuckled. "You actually dare to mention my mother’s name?"

Sean tensed.

"You promised my mother would be safe," Clara continued, her voice beginning to tremble. "If even one thing happens to her, Sean—I swear, I’ll destroy you. I don’t care how."

Their gazes locked.

For a moment, Sean saw something he hadn’t anticipated: Clara wasn’t afraid. Clara was angry, fully aware, and ready to fight.

"I haven’t laid a finger on your mother," Sean finally said. "She’s fine. I’ve made sure of that."

"How could I possibly harm my own mother-in-law?" The man smiled, coldly, and looked terrifying.

"And after that, what?" Clara asked. "Do you think I’ll come back to you obediently? Open my heart and womb to your obsession?"

Sean suddenly moved closer. Too close.

"We’re still husband and wife," he whispered. "And you’ll remember that."

Clara didn’t back down. Not an inch.

"You can lock up my body," she replied coldly. "But my heart isn’t yours."

A tense silence fell.

Sean stared at his wife for a long time. Too long.

"I’ll give you time," he said finally. "Time to calm down. To think."

Clara gave a faint smile. Not a smile of defeat.

"Good," she said. "Because I’m thinking too."

Sean walked out, locking the door behind him.

As soon as his footsteps faded, Clara exhaled deeply.

She knew one thing very clearly now: Sean didn’t intend to kill her. Sean wanted to possess her. And that was his greatest weakness.

Clara walked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"I’m getting out of here," she whispered softly.

"Not as your wife. But as the person who’s going to drag you to hell."

********

A week had passed.

Seven days that felt like seven years to Clara.

Time at the villa didn’t flow as it usually did. Morning and night were distinguished only by the sunlight slipping through the tall windows and the lights that were turned on without her asking. Her life was measured by the sound of the guard’s footsteps outside her room, by the meals that arrived even though she never touched them, by the door that was always locked from the outside.

Sean rarely came by. And that was precisely what made Clara even more wary. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

She knew her husband. Sean wasn’t the type of man to give up. When he was silent, it didn’t mean he was giving in; it meant he was waiting. Or worse yet, Sean was hatching a sinister plan.

"I know, he’ll do anything to make me submit," Clara whispered.

And her words proved true.

That night, Clara’s bad premonition came true.

Around 11 p.m., the bedroom door opened without a knock.

Sean entered with slow steps, but the look in his eyes was different. No longer calm like the days before. There was something dark, urgent, and dangerous.

"Honey, let’s make love. You must be healed by now, right? Bleeding from a miscarriage doesn’t last as long as postpartum bleeding." Sean smirked.

Clara, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, stood up immediately.

"Get out," she said firmly.

Sean didn’t stop walking. "You can’t kick me out, honey!"

"Get out of here!" Clara screamed.

"We need to talk, honey. I miss our time together," Sean said softly.

"There’s nothing left to talk about," Clara replied with a look of pure hatred. "I’ve already told you. I’m not coming back to you."

Sean stopped right in front of his wife. Too close, even. The scent of the perfume he once knew... now felt piercing.

"You’re my wife," he said softly. "And you mustn’t forget that."

"Come serve your husband. Let me satisfy my desires tonight!" Sean stared wildly at his wife.

Clara’s heart pounded. She took a step back.

"I’m still traumatized, Sean," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to hold it steady. "I just had a miscarriage. My body—I haven’t recovered. I’m not ready."

Those words didn’t soften Sean’s heart. Quite the opposite.

He grabbed Clara’s arm. Then he squeezed his wife’s slender waist.

"That’s exactly why," he said coldly. "We have to make love to restore your shattered mood after the miscarriage."

Clara struggled. "Sean! Let me go!"

Sean kissed Clara’s lips roughly—not a loving kiss, but one of possession. Clara turned her face away, trying to push his body away.

"Don’t," she sobbed. "Please... don’t do this."

But Sean didn’t listen.

To Sean, Clara wasn’t refusing—she just "needed convincing."

"Come on. Just for a moment. I’ll go slow. It won’t hurt."

"Sean, please. Don’t do this. Don’t force me."

"Clara, but I’m horny. I want to make love to you. I want to get you pregnant again."

"Sean, please—"

At that moment, Sean immediately lifted Clara’s body and carried her to the bed. Roughly, he pinned his wife down and quickly stripped her of her clothes.

Clara struggled and fought back. But she wasn’t strong enough.

And in that moment, Clara knew: this man didn’t care about her wounds, about the pain she felt after the miscarriage, about her trauma as a woman, or about the grief that hadn’t yet healed. All Sean saw was her womb, her vagina, sex, satisfying his lust, and impregnating Clara.

Sean succeeded in venting his lust on his wife. He was happy to be able to touch and enjoy Clara’s body.

Clara’s world crumbled in silence. No scream could save her from Sean on the bed that night. No door opened. No hand came to help.

"Sean, you’re evil."

"Honey, this is fun. Let’s just enjoy this intimate moment."

But Clara couldn’t enjoy the sex. All she felt was emotional devastation and a gnawing emptiness in her soul, even after Sean reached orgasm repeatedly.

When Sean was finally done, he immediately got up from the bed. Clara froze. She didn’t cry.

She just stared blankly at the wall, her body stiff, her mind numb.

Sean stood up, straightened his clothes, then looked at Clara for a moment.

"We need to have another child. You’re definitely pregnant again," he said as if it were a sweet plan between a married couple, not a threat. "And after that, everything will be fine."

Clara remained silent.

Sean then left the room where his wife was confined.

The door closed.

The lock clicked.

Clara remained silent.

Not a single tear fell. But her heart grew harder and harder, like stone.