News about Moana spread quickly.

It wasn’t sensational or loud—and that’s exactly what made it feel dangerous. The media didn’t mention the beating. There was no mention of "violence." All there was was a narrative about a well-established husband who "lost his second wife."

The headlines were subtle:

CEO Sean Weasley Reports Wife Who Ran Away from Home

Household Funds Allegedly Used for Gambling Family’s Benefit

Moana’s name was listed as the legal wife.

It was never mentioned how she became that wife. No one wrote that the marriage stemmed from an affair. No one noted that Clara—Sean’s first wife—left after her self-esteem was slowly shattered, day by day, by Moana’s presence between them.

History always favors the powerful.

And Sean, seemingly the powerful one, pretends to display wisdom amidst his domestic turmoil. He doesn’t corner Moana in the slightest.

The man was actually fishing without stirring up the water. He ensured his name and image remained intact.

"Perhaps, this is how I can make Clara start thinking about coming back to me."

★★★

In another city, Clara slowly closed her laptop. Her face was pale, not from shock—but because the pattern felt all too familiar.

"Sean always works like this.

Calm. Systematic. Silent cruelty." Clara muttered.

Leo, standing near the window, turned immediately.

"He’s up to his old tricks again," he said. "Destroying someone while pretending to be the victim."

Clara took a deep breath. She didn’t feel sorry for Moana—not entirely. That woman had known full well that Sean was a married man, knew Clara was still around, and still chose to enter a marriage that hadn’t completely fallen apart yet.

"Moana is indeed wicked. But no one deserves to be treated like a broken object," Clara snorted.

"Sean won’t stop at Moana," Clara continued softly. "Once he gets bored of tormenting her, he’ll look for another target. Another woman."

Leo frowned. "If Sean came to you and asked for a second chance, would you give him that chance?"

Clara shook her head firmly. "There are no second chances for traitors!"

***********

Elsewhere, Moana sat on a park bench, her hair a mess, her face puffy. Her phone vibrated nonstop—not from Sean, not from her parents, but from news alerts and insulting messages.

"Moana’s getting what she deserves."

"No wonder he just left her like that. Sean must’ve gotten tired of using her as a plaything in bed. What a husband-stealer!"

"First she stole someone’s husband, now she’s begging for pity? Disgusting!"

"Let that cheap woman taste her own medicine!"

Moana closed her eyes. She had stolen a husband. That was true.

But she never imagined that the "reward" for that "victory" would be a life of being locked up, beaten, and then slowly discarded—with no way back.

"I have to find Clara and apologize to her. She’s the only one who can calm the netizens who keep insulting me on social media."

Moana searched for Clara’s contact number. The number she used to call just to show off photos of her and Sean being affectionate in the apartment.

★★★

Moana’s fingers trembled as she tapped the name.

"Ugly Clara." That’s how she had saved Clara’s contact name on her phone.

The name she used to mock. The name she used to see as a rival.

Moana pressed the number and made the call. The ringtone sounded for a long time. Too long. Until it finally connected.

"Clara," Moana’s voice was hoarse. "It’s me."

There was no immediate answer. Just breathing on the other end. Breathing that sounded calm. Breathing that was controlled. The breathing of someone who had long since made peace with their wounds, and had no interest in reopening them.

"What’s up?" Clara finally asked. Her voice was flat. Not cold. Not friendly. Just... flat and sounding reluctant.

Moana swallowed hard. Her pride crumbled another layer.

"I... I just wanted to say I’m sorry."

Silence.

The apology sounded awkward. Too late. Like flowers placed on a grave after the mourners have gone home.

"What are you apologizing for, Mo?" Clara’s voice remained steady. "For taking my husband? Or because Sean no longer wants you?"

Moana fell silent.

"Those are two different things, Moana," Clara continued. "And I’m not sure you understand the difference."

Moana’s voice trembled. "I’m broken, Clara. Everyone hates me. The media, my parents, Sean’s parents, netizens—"

"You didn’t reach out to me because you’re sorry," Clara cut in.

"You reached out to me because you’re alone. We need a friend."

Those words cut deeper into Moana’s heart than any online abuse.

"I was beaten," Moana whispered. "I was locked up. I—"

Clara closed her eyes for a moment. Something trembled in her chest. It wasn’t pure sympathy. But a bitter acknowledgment that they had once been in nearly the same position—albeit through very different paths.

"I won’t defend you in public," Clara finally said.

"I also won’t hate you any more than I have to."

Moana held her breath. "So... will you help me?"

"No. Not at all," Clara replied firmly.

"But I’ll tell you one thing."

Moana waited, like a condemned prisoner awaiting a verdict. "What is it?"

"Sean has never loved anyone. He never loved me, and he never loved you either," Clara said softly.

"He only loves power. And you once helped him destroy me. Now, he’s destroying you to soothe his ego." She emphasized.

The call ended.

Moana stared at her phone screen for a long time. For the first time, she realized she hadn’t lost Sean. She had lost the illusion that she was special.

★★★

Meanwhile, in his office, Sean received a new report.

"Moana tried to contact Clara," his assistant reported.

Sean stopped writing. A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.

"Good," he said casually. "That means my pressure is starting to work."

He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, as if all of this were just a strategic game unfolding exactly as planned.

"Make sure Clara knows that I’m doing all this as a form of atonement," he continued.

"Make her realize that I’m still here, and that I’ve cast Moana aside for her."

Sean felt pleased that his plan had succeeded. "Clara will surely forgive me, and Moana is surely still obsessed with me."

He was too confident in his power. He thought... the pieces on the chessboard were starting to move in the direction he wanted. In reality, time hadn’t fully revealed the answer yet.

**********

The next day.

Sean arrived at Clara’s apartment as night was falling. He seemed to be in a hurry.

The building stood imposing in the city center. It was tall and modern, with a multi-layered security system. Clara’s name was officially listed as a resident. There wasn’t a single loophole the media could exploit.

Sean gave his name at the lobby. It didn’t take long; his social status still worked like a universal key. The receptionist didn’t ask any further questions. They knew who Sean was.

The elevator took him to the upper floor.

A moment later, he stood in front of Clara’s apartment door.

Sean rang the doorbell.

Once. Twice. But there was no answer.

He pressed it again. This time, longer.

From inside, the sound of footsteps could be heard. Slow. Controlled steps.

The door opened. Clara stood there.

Of course, it wasn’t Leo. Let alone another man. Clara was very careful in how she conducted herself. She had to ensure there were no openings for cheap gossip that the media might write about.

"Clara." Sean smiled.

Clara was wearing a simple yet clearly expensive loungewear set. Her hair was neatly let down. Her face was calm—even too calm for a woman who should be "devastated" after a divorce.

Sean fell silent again. He looked his ex-wife up and down.

"You’re so beautiful."

Yes! Clara did look more beautiful.

Not because she was dressed up. But because she was no longer living in fear. Her eyes radiated happiness and serenity. Her face looked serene and incredibly gentle. A beauty that was utterly natural.

"What are you doing here?" Clara asked flatly.

That tone immediately made Sean’s chest tighten.

"I want to talk," he replied quickly. "About our relationship."

"Our relationship is over; it’s all ended," Clara replied without emotion.

Sean took a step forward. His hand reflexively reached out to stop the door before Clara could close it.

"You can’t just pretend it’s all over," he said softly. "I gave up Moana for you."

Clara raised her thin eyebrows. Not surprised. Not moved.

"I never asked you to do that."

Sean swallowed hard.

"You should thank me," he said. "After everything I’ve done."

"Clara, I still love you," Sean insisted.

Clara stared at him for a long moment. Her gaze wasn’t one of hatred, but of cold indifference.

"I don’t care," she replied.

"And I’m not interested in giving you a second chance."

Those words struck Sean’s chest harder than a scream.

Sean’s face tensed. His manipulative smile cracked.

"You won’t find a man like me again," he said, his tone growing harsh. "There won’t be a man better than me."

Clara gave a small smile. Not a mocking one. Not a defiant one.

"Don’t be so confident."

She pushed the door open slightly. Just enough to create some distance. Not closing it completely. Not out of fear, but because she no longer felt the need to hide.

"Don’t come here again," Clara said. "If you force yourself on me, I won’t stay silent like I used to."

The door finally closed.

And Sean stood alone in the apartment hallway—realizing for the first time that his greatest loss wasn’t losing Moana, nor was it losing his reputation, but losing control over Clara.

The obsession in his chest shifted direction. Darker. More dangerous.

"Clara! You can’t be happy without me by your side!" Sean clenched his fists.