Chapter 217

Chapter 217
Andrei: POV

I was half-listening to the TV while scrolling through my phone, surrounded by my family in the living room of my mansion.

My father Andrew sat rigidly in his favorite armchair, while my siblings—Carter, my older brother, and Michele, my younger sister—were sprawled across the couches.

It was one of our rare family gatherings, ostensibly to discuss upcoming Wilson production investments, but really just an excuse for my mother to gather her children under one roof again.

"Andrei, are you even listening?" Michele nudged me with her foot.

"Yeah, yeah, something about the Berlin project," I mumbled, not looking up.

That's when I heard Clara's voice cutting through the background noise.

My head snapped up so fast I nearly got whiplash. There she was on the screen—my wife—surrounded by a sea of microphones and cameras, her face calm, almost detached.

"I admit I was wrong," she was saying, her voice eerily steady. "I shouldn't have been seeing Daniel while I was married to Andrei."

The room went silent. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

My phone slipped from my fingers and hit the carpet with a dull thud.

"But I'm tired of that life. I want a divorce."

Every word felt like a knife stabbing into my chest. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at her innocent face on the screen. Was she serious? Was this actually happening?

The burning rage that surged through me was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Had she always loved Daniel?

Was I never good enough? What could that bastard give her that I couldn't?

My fingers closed around the tequila glass in my hand, squeezing tighter and tighter as questions spiraled through my mind.

The glass shattered with a sickening crunch, shards embedding themselves in my palm.

Blood dripped onto the pristine white carpet, but I felt nothing. The fury consuming me burned too hot to register physical pain.

"Jesus Christ, Andrei!" Michele rushed toward me, grabbing my bleeding hand. "Someone get the first aid kit! Now!" she shouted at one of the staff hovering nearby.

I didn't flinch as blood continued to stream from my hand.

My anger was too intense, my thoughts completely consumed by betrayal.

I wanted to destroy something, to burn the whole world down if it would quiet the storm raging inside me.

"Look at yourself," Michele said, her voice shaking with worry as she examined my hand.

Andrew sighed heavily and approached with a grave expression. "Andrei," he said, his tone serious, "don't hurt yourself over this. Look at her! She's shameless—causing this scandal without even blinking an eye."

He gestured toward the TV where Clara was still fielding questions. "She's a disgrace. Sign the papers, divorce her, and get her out of your life."

He threw a set of divorce papers onto the coffee table.

I stared at them, seeing Clara's signature already there.

"Look how much you did for her," Carter chimed in, his voice thick with indignation. "And this is how she repays you? This dirty scandal could ruin your reputation. If the truth about your contract marriage comes out, your film career is over."

"I don't care about the scandal or my career!" I snapped, my voice low and hoarse but filled with pain. "You think that affects me?"

None of them understood. What was burning me up inside, what I couldn't swallow, was the fact that Clara had chosen Daniel over me.

I needed to see her. I needed to understand what the hell was happening.

Why would she suddenly call a press conference announcing our divorce without even discussing it with me first?

No matter how angry I was, I knew her well enough to know there had to be more to this story.

"I'm going to find her," I announced, standing up abruptly.

"Andrei, your hand!" Michele protested.

I ignored her, grabbing my jacket and keys. I had to get to that press conference.

---

The taxi couldn't move fast enough.

My mind raced with possibilities, my heart pounding with anxiety.

This didn't make sense. Even if she wanted a divorce, Clara wouldn't humiliate me like this.

"Can you go any faster?" I urged the driver, my fingers tapping impatiently against my bandaged hand.

By the time I reached the press conference, I was a mess of conflicting emotions—anger, confusion, hurt, and beneath it all, a desperate need to see her face to face.

I slipped into the back of the room, watching as Clara continued answering questions with that strange, detached demeanor.

Something was off about her eyes—they were rimmed with red, like she'd been crying.

"Why are you so determined to divorce Andrei Wilson?" a reporter asked. "Don't you love him anymore?"

Clara's voice was hollow as she replied, "I never loved him. I married him only for his powerful background, to find strong protection for myself."

"Now I've found my true love; I'm no longer willing to play this make-believe marriage game with him."

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer. My heart went cold. Was there really nothing between us? But something in her subtle expression didn't match her words.

Another reporter pressed, "Don't you feel guilty about cheating on Andrei Wilson during your marriage?"

Clara put on what I recognized as her fake smile, though her eyes were bloodshot. "I feel a little guilty, but I believe pursuing my own happiness is justified. Maybe Andrei never loved me either?"

That was enough. I couldn't listen to any more of this farce. I pushed through the crowd and strode onto the stage.

"Andrei has discovered he's now deeply in love with you," I announced loudly, watching her eyes widen in shock. "And can't live without you."

I turned to address the crowd of journalists, whose cameras were now flashing frantically. "I apologize, everyone. My wife and I had a fight, and this is all just her cruel prank. Please leave now."

One bold reporter called out, "Is this really a prank? Your wife's statement sounded quite genuine to me."

I fixed him with my most menacing glare. "Unless you want to be fired from your outlet, I suggest you leave. Now."

The room began to clear as I grabbed Clara's arm, pulling her toward the exit. Her skin felt cold beneath my fingers, and she was trembling slightly.

Once in my car, I turned to her, struggling to control my voice. "Why? Why this sudden performance?"

Her voice trembled as she replied, "I don't need your money anymore. I'll find another way to fund my family's medical treatments. And I don't love you. So is there any reason to maintain this marriage?"

"I've known you long enough," I countered, searching her face. "Don't try to fool me. You're hiding something!"

"I... I'm not," she stammered, but her eyes betrayed her.

I softened my approach, leaning against her shoulder. "Clara, I think I've truly fallen in love with you. Without you, I honestly can't go on living."

Something in her expression cracked. "It's my damn ex-boyfriend, Daniel," she finally confessed. "He set a trap to ruin your reputation."

"I didn't want to see you destroyed," she continued, her voice breaking. "So I decided to take all the blame on myself."

"Clara, my silly girl!" I felt a surge of protectiveness mixed with rage toward Daniel. "That addict Daniel has some nerve! Don't worry, he'll pay dearly for this."

I nuzzled her neck, breathing in her familiar scent. "Don't talk about leaving me so easily, okay?"

Clara smiled and stroked my hair, whispering something I couldn't quite catch.

"What was that last thing you said? I didn't hear clearly," I pressed.

"Nothing," she replied, but I wasn't letting her off that easily.

"Tell me, tell me?" I persisted, moving closer.

Under my continued prodding, Clara finally leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, then whispered in my ear, "I love you..."

"This time I heard it," I said triumphantly, capturing her lips in a deep kiss that conveyed everything words couldn't express.