Mrs. Weasley fell silent at once.

The woman’s expression slowly changed. There was sadness... but also a strange sense of relief upon hearing Clara’s answer.

For the first time since the divorce, Mrs. Weasley saw something in Clara that had nearly been lost.

Self-respect.

Clara no longer sounded like a woman who lived only to be loved by Sean.

And that only made Mrs. Weasley feel even more guilty as a mother.

The woman gave a faint, bitter smile.

"You’re right," she said softly. "And perhaps that’s a lesson that was too costly for my daughter."

Mrs. Diana snorted lightly. "Too costly? Sean nearly destroyed my daughter’s mental state."

Mrs. Weasley lowered her head briefly.

"I know."

There was no more defense.

No excuses.

And that made Mrs. Diana’s anger subside slightly, though it hadn’t completely vanished.

The atmosphere in the supermarket suddenly felt awkward and silent among the three of them.

Until finally Mrs. Weasley spoke softly again,

"Sean came to the house last week."

Clara immediately tensed up a little.

Mrs. Weasley noticed that small change before continuing with a heavy sigh.

"He was drunk." The woman gave a small, hollow laugh. "Sitting alone in the living room like a lost soul."

Clara’s gaze slowly dropped.

And unfortunately... a small part of her heart still felt uneasy imagining Sean like that.

Mrs. Diana immediately caught the change in her daughter’s expression.

"Clara," she admonished softly.

Clara snapped out of it and shook her head slightly.

"I don’t feel sorry for him," she said quickly.

But Mrs. Weasley just smiled sadly.

"You’re always too kind."

The elderly woman gripped the shopping cart tighter before speaking softly again,

"Sean keeps asking about you."

Clara fell silent.

"He’s even blaming himself constantly now." Mrs. Weasley closed her eyes for a moment. "I’ve never seen Sean this broken."

Mrs. Diana immediately crossed her arms.

"And Clara was broken for years, but your son didn’t care."

Mrs. Weasley nodded slowly, accepting it all.

"Yes," she whispered softly. "That’s why I can’t force Clara to forgive him now."

Those words made Clara slowly lift her head again.

And for the first time that day, Clara truly saw the exhaustion on Sean’s mother’s face.

Not as the mother of her ex-husband.

But as an elderly woman watching her own son slowly destroy his life.

Mrs. Weasley gave a small, hollow laugh.

"Sometimes I think..." she said softly, "Sean only truly loved you after he lost you."

The room fell silent.

But Clara only gave a small smile.

A gentle smile... but also one full of distance.

"That’s not love," she replied softly.

Mrs. Weasley fell silent for a moment. "Then what is it?"

Clara stared at the vegetable rack in front of her for a few seconds before finally answering softly,

"Regret."

And that answer felt far more painful than any anger.

************

That night, it was raining quite heavily in the city center.

The streetlights glinted faintly off the glass of Sean’s penthouse window. The atmosphere of the luxurious apartment remained as elegant as ever—spacious, expensive, and perfect.

Yet it still felt empty.

Sean stood silently by the window, holding a glass of whiskey he had barely touched.

His mind was still filled with thoughts of Clara.

Clang.

Sean set his glass down on the table a little too hard. His chest felt tight again.

Now, he was beginning to understand that there were regrets that couldn’t be undone. And Clara might be one of them.

His phone suddenly vibrated. His assistant’s name appeared on the screen.

Sean answered immediately, his tone cold.

"What is it?"

But the voice on the other end sounded tense.

"Sir... there’s a problem."

Sean’s jaw tightened.

"What problem now?"

"One of the media outlets got hold of the company’s old expense documents."

Sean’s body froze.

"They haven’t published it yet... but they’re asking for confirmation."

Sean slowly closed his eyes.

Damn.

Mr. Freddy was moving faster than he’d anticipated.

"What exactly did they get?"

There was a few seconds of silence. Then his assistant replied softly,

"Travel expenses to Hawaii when Moana was pregnant. A cosmetic clinic claim in Moana’s name. And several personal transfers disguised as marketing expenses."

Sean immediately rubbed his rough face.

His head felt heavier and heavier.

"I want all that media coverage held back."

"We’re trying, sir. But..." The assistant paused.

"Speak."

"Investors are starting to hear these rumors."

The atmosphere in the apartment instantly grew colder. Because Sean knew what that meant. If investors started to panic, everything could collapse very quickly.

Stock prices. Public trust. His position in the company. Even the Weasley family name.

Sean let out a hollow chuckle as he stared at the rain outside. How ironic. He used to think he was the strongest man in the city.

Now? Even a small family like Freddy’s could turn his life upside down.

And the most ironic part... Amid all this chaos, his thoughts kept returning to Clara. To that woman’s serene smile. To how much more at peace Clara seemed without him.

Sean closed his eyes. Then, a terrifying thought popped into his head.

"What if Clara really never comes back? Not because of Leo. Not because she’s angry. But because Clara no longer needs me."

And that thought felt far more terrifying than any media threat.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Sean immediately opened his eyes. Someone was knocking on the door of his penthouse. The man frowned slightly. It was almost midnight.

With a clenched jaw, Sean walked toward the door and flung it open roughly.

And the next moment... His expression turned cold.

Moana was standing there. Soaked from the rain. Her hair was slightly disheveled. Her makeup was faintly smudged at the corners of her eyes.

Yet the woman still gave a small smile.

"Can I come in?" she asked softly.

Sean immediately gave a thin, unwelcoming smirk.

"You’re getting more shameless by the day."

Moana gave a hollow little laugh.

"Relax," she said casually. "I didn’t come here to sleep with you."

Sean didn’t move from the doorway. "I’m not interested either."

Moana fell silent for a moment. And strangely, since all this chaos began, the woman didn’t seem hurt by Sean’s rejection.

Instead, her face looked tired. Very tired.

"I just want to talk," she said finally.

Sean stared at her for what felt like an eternity before finally turning and walking inside without answering. And that was permission enough.

Moana slowly entered the penthouse she used to visit so often. But tonight felt different. There was no passion. No games.

All that remained were two broken people... standing atop the ruins of their own lives.

Moana slowly closed the penthouse door behind her.

The sound of rain outside could still be faintly heard through the apartment’s large windows. The air felt cold. It was quiet.

Sean walked back to the bar without paying any attention to Moana. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured it into a glass with a rough motion.

"Spit it out," he said flatly. "I don’t have the energy for any more drama."

Moana slowly took off her wet coat and placed it on the sofa.

"I’m tired too," she replied softly.

Sean snorted slightly, as if in disbelief.

But when he glanced over...

He did see something different tonight.

Moana didn’t look like her usual self.

Not glamorous.

Not seductive.

Not trying to look perfect.

Instead, she looked like someone who was simply too exhausted from fighting.

Sean handed her a glass of whiskey without a word.

Moana accepted it gently.

"Thank you."

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds.

Then Sean finally spoke coldly,

"So? Your father managed to leak the company documents."

Moana took a small sip of her drink before answering,

"I wasn’t the one who gave those documents."

Sean laughed hollowly.

"But you enjoyed it."

Moana didn’t deny it.

"Maybe I did back then," she said softly. "Not anymore."

Sean’s gaze shifted, tinged with irony.

"I find it hard to believe a woman who turns other people’s lives into a game."

Moana looked straight at him.

"We’re the same."

That sentence silenced Sean.

Because, unfortunately...

He couldn’t argue.

They had both destroyed Clara without a shred of guilt back then.

Sean ran a hand over his rough face then sat down on the sofa across from Moana.

"If you just want to reminisce about how rotten we were, I’m not interested."

Moana gave a small laugh.

"Still rough."

"And you’re still manipulative."

Silence again.

But this time it wasn’t as tense as usual.

Instead, it felt like two people who were finally too tired to keep attacking each other.

Moana slowly swirled the glass in her hand.

"I saw Clara this afternoon."

Sean’s expression immediately changed.

"At the supermarket," Moana continued casually. "With her mother."

Sean’s jaw tightened slightly.

And Moana noticed it clearly.

"Your mom was talking a lot with Clara." Moana looked at Sean. "It seems like they’re planning something," she whispered.

"What do you mean?" Sean screamed.