Clara read the message again.
And again.
If you think Vanessa is the only problem, you're already too late.
Her fingers felt cold around the phone.
"Dylan," she said quietly.
He looked up immediately. "What is it?"
She handed him the phone without a word.
His eyes scanned the screen, his expression hardening almost instantly.
"This isn't Vanessa," he said.
Clara's stomach twisted. "How do you know?"
"She would've wanted credit," he replied flatly. "This is someone who wants us unsettled."
Us.
The word echoed in her chest.
"Who else would benefit from this?" she asked.
Dylan's jaw tightened. "More people than you'd like."
The day unraveled fast.
Meetings were rescheduled.
Calls went unanswered.
Dylan's security team doubled without explanation.
Clara noticed everything.
"You're bracing for impact," she said as he ended another call.
"Yes."
"You're not telling me everything."
He looked at her then—really looked.
"There's something you need to understand about my world," Dylan said carefully. "Not all enemies show their faces. Some of them sit quietly, waiting for weakness."
"And I'm the weakness?" Clara asked.
"No," he replied immediately. "You're the leverage."
That didn't make her feel better.
She crossed her arms. "Then stop treating me like something that needs protecting and start treating me like someone who deserves the truth."
Silence stretched.
Then Dylan nodded.
"There's a board vote coming," he said. "One that could shift control of the company."
Clara's heart skipped. "And this marriage—"
"Is part of what stabilizes my position," he admitted. "Which makes you a target."
She exhaled slowly. "So this was never just about reputation."
"No," he said. "But it became about more than power."
She searched his face. "When?"
He hesitated. "When I realized losing you would cost more than losing control."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"You don't get to say things like that casually," she whispered.
"I know," he said. "I'm not saying it casually."
That evening, they attended another event.
This one was smaller.
Private.
Dangerous.
A gathering of people who smiled too easily and listened too closely.
Dylan's hand rested at the small of Clara's back as they entered.
Not possessive.
Protective.
"You okay?" he murmured.
She nodded. "I will be."
Eyes followed them.
Whispers trailed.
Clara felt it—pressure from all sides.
A woman approached them with a bright smile. "Clara Monroe, finally. I've heard so much about you."
Clara returned the smile politely. "All good, I hope."
The woman laughed lightly. "Depends who you ask."
Dylan's grip tightened slightly.
"This is Margaret Hale," he said. "Board member."
Clara's instincts flared.
"Nice to meet you," she said calmly.
Margaret's gaze lingered. "You've certainly changed the dynamics around here."
"So I've been told," Clara replied.
Margaret leaned in. "Tell me—do you enjoy being married to a man who's always one vote away from being replaced?"
The room seemed to tilt.
Dylan stiffened. "That's inappropriate."
"No," Clara said softly. "It's honest."
She met Margaret's gaze. "And yes. I enjoy my marriage."
The truth surprised even her.
Margaret smiled thinly. "We'll see how long that lasts."
She walked away.
Clara exhaled shakily.
"You handled that well," Dylan said.
"I'm tired of being tested," Clara replied. "If they want to know whether I'll break, they should ask directly."
Dylan studied her. "You won't."
She met his eyes. "Neither will you."
Later that night, the penthouse felt like a fortress.
Clara stood by the window again—only this time, Dylan stood beside her.
"They're circling," she said.
"Yes."
"And if it comes down to choosing," she continued quietly, "between me and your company—"
Dylan turned to her sharply. "Don't finish that sentence."
She swallowed. "You might have to."
He reached for her hands, holding them firmly.
"I won't sacrifice you to save myself," he said. "Not again."
Her breath caught. "Again?"
His expression darkened. "I've done it before. That's why Vanessa hates you."
Clara's heart pounded. "Because I'm different?"
"Because you stayed," he said. "And she didn't."
The honesty in his voice stripped something raw inside her.
"Dylan," she whispered, "this is where people get hurt."
"Yes," he said. "But this is also where people decide who they are."
She leaned her forehead against his chest, just for a moment.
Just enough.
He didn't pull her closer.
Didn't push her away.
He simply stayed.
The next morning, everything changed.
A document leaked online.
Signed.
Dated.
Legal.
CONTRACT MARRIAGE AGREEMENT — MONROE ENTERPRISES
Clara stared at the headline, blood draining from her face.
"They found it," she whispered.
Dylan read it once.
Twice.
Then closed his eyes.
"This wasn't Vanessa," he said.
Clara's hands trembled. "The whole world is going to know."
"Yes."
"And when they do?"
Dylan looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"They'll try to tear us apart," he said.
Her voice shook. "Can we survive that?"
He stepped closer.
"That," he said quietly, "depends on whether we're finally willing to stop pretending."
The line had been crossed.
There was no going back now.