Ethan didn't waste a second.
The moment he left their bedroom, he told Axiel to keep Clara company, and then he shut himself in the study with his father. For hours, they were on their phones nonestop, calling in old favors from people who owed them. They leaned on connections built over decades. For Ethan, every minute was a reminder that time was slipping away. It was already Wednesday, and by Friday night, this should all be over.
He had seen what life with Clara could be like, and he wasn't about to lose it. Not to Mateo. Not to anyone.
He pictured the moment he will tell her about Axiel on Friday evening, just the two of them. No more secrets, no more unspoken truths. And then maybe, just maybe, they will start over. The three of them. Together.
Clara spent the morning with Axiel in the garden.
The boy sat on the grass, a box of crayons between them, his tongue peeking out in concentration as he sketched. He drew their family, small figures holding hands.. He added a big sun in the corner and scattered flowers around the figures. Clara joined him, her lines neater, but her mind was in a far place.
This, she thought, is what it would have been like if Cade was still alive. He would be around the same age, probably with the same curiosity and gentleness.
To her, Axiel was easy to love. Too easy. And it hit her, painfully, that if she left Ethan, Axiel would be the one she misses the most.
But then her mind circled back to their conversation that morning, Ethan's words still fresh on her mind.
He wanted a real marriage.
He loved her.
Clara had suspected, once or twice, that he might like her..that there was something brewing beneath the tension. But love? That was a word too big, too dangerous.
***
Later that day, the kitchen smelled of warm vanilla and sugar as Clara leaned over the counter, guiding Axiel's small hands as he carefully poured flour into the mixing bowl. Axiel grinned when a cloud of white powder puffed into the air, and Clara laughed, brushing dough off his cheek.
She had intentionally muted her phone and placed it face down because she had wanted this afternoon to be about cakes and laughter. But when she reached for it in need of a timer, the screen lit up. Eleven missed calls, three from Sofia, two from Riley, and several from colleagues at the DA's office.
Before she could scroll through the flood of notifications, her phone rang again. Linda from the DA's office.
Clara swiped to answer.
"Linda..."
"Turn on the news." No greeting. No explanation. Just the tight urgency in her colleague's voice.
Clara's stomach dropped. She crossed to the living room, fumbling for the remote, and the moment the screen lit, her breath caught.
Every major network was running the same headline:
PROSECUTOR CLARA TORRES' SECRET BABY.