I should have expected it.
I should have known someone like Clarissa wouldn't just disappear after being dismissed by Edward's father or glared into silence by Edward himself.
Women like her don't vanish.
They reappear louder, prettier, angrier, and ready to destroy something.
But I still wasn't prepared for the knock on my door the next morning.
Not a soft knock.
A sharp, confident, pointed one.
Like the person on the other side already believed they had a right to enter my life.
I wasn't expecting anyone, so I opened the door without thinking
And instantly wished I hadn't.
Clarissa stands there like she walked out of a magazine.
Tall.
Flawless.
Silky black hair curled around her shoulders.
Makeup so perfect she probably hired someone to apply it just for this visit.
A fitted white dress hugging her body like it was sewn onto her skin.
Diamonds dangling from her ears
expensive, sharp, and meant to cut.
She doesn't smile.
Her gaze slides over me slowly, judging every inch of me, from my bare face to the oversized T-shirt I threw on after waking up.
"Leah," she says finally, lips curving in a slow, poisonous smile.
"You're exactly the kind of woman I imagined."
I blink. "Excuse me?"
"Oh? Did you think Edward hadn't told me about you?" She steps inside without permission and I let her, partly because I'm too stunned to react, partly because she radiates the kind of confidence people move aside for.
She walks into my living room like she owns it, glancing around with mild amusement.
"So this is where he's been hiding."
"Hiding?" I snap, voice sharp.
She laughs softly, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. "Well, he certainly hasn't been returning his father's calls. Or mine."
I fold my arms, leaning against the doorframe.
"So you thought you'd just show up?"
"Of course."
She looks back at me, eyes glittering.
"Fiancées do that."
Her word hangs in the air like a hook waiting to catch on something.
I force a steady breath.
"Edward isn't your fiancé."
She smiles wider though her eyes narrow.
"He will be."
I almost laugh. "He said no to the arrangement. Repeatedly."
"Oh, sweetie," she says, stepping closer, lowering her voice to a silky whisper, "boys say a lot of things when they're infatuated."
I stare at her.
She stares back, smug, unbothered, perfectly composed.
She thinks she's already won.
And that pisses me off.
"Edward doesn't want you," I say.
She shrugs delicately. "He doesn't want his father either. Or the company. Or responsibilities. But he still ends up doing whatever Frank wants."
My throat tightens at that because the worst part is
she isn't entirely wrong.
She notices the flicker of doubt in my eyes and smiles triumphantly.
"His father needs him back in the company," she says.
"And their families need the alliance. I'm simply part of the plan."
"And Edward," I reply calmly, "is not a plan. He's a person."
Her smile falters.
Just a little.
Then she straightens her shoulders and tilts her chin.
"Do you know what happens when someone like you gets in the way of families like ours?" she asks softly.
I stare at her. "Try me."
She steps even closer, so close I can smell her perfume sweet, expensive, suffocating.
"You get left behind," she says.
"Men like Edward have phases. They indulge. They play. They rebel. But when things get serious? They always come home."
I don't move.
Not when she tries to look intimidating.
Not when she tries to bait me.
Not when she says his name like he belongs to her.
But inside, something deep and protective cracks open.
"Edward isn't a child," I say coldly.
"No," she agrees. "But you're not the kind of woman he marries. You're the kind of woman he sleeps with until he remembers who he's supposed to be."
The insult slices through me.
But anger replaces the sting.
"Leave," I tell her.
Clarissa laughs not loudly, but softly, like she pities me.
"Oh, Leah… do you really think this ends with you winning?"
I don't answer.
She takes my silence as permission to keep going.
"Edward has obligations," she says.
"A life. A future. A legacy. And you? You're the ex-wife of his father."
The words hit harder than I want them to.
"Frank won't let him keep you," she adds, voice dripping with triumph.
"And neither will I."
My jaw tightens. "You don't get to decide anything about him."
"But I do."
She lifts her chin.
"My father invested millions into the arranged merger. Edward's part of that deal, whether he wants to be or not."
I shake my head.
"You think you can force him?"
"I think," she says slowly, "that love makes people stupid. And contracts make people obedient."
Her smile sharpens.
"And right now, he has both hanging over his head."
I step forward, closing the gap this time.
"Listen very carefully," I say, my voice low and steady.
"Edward is not a pawn. And he is not marrying you."
She laughs. "Oh? Are you sure? Because his father told me he always comes back eventually."
"He's not his father," I snap.
She sighs, crossing her arms. "You can tell yourself that. But when push comes to shove, you'll see who he chooses."
"And what exactly are you hoping he chooses?" I ask.
She smirks. "Me, darling. Obviously."
There it is.
Not subtle.
Not political.
Not polite.
Just raw, open intention.
"Why are you really here?" I ask.
Her eyes narrow. "To remind you that nothing has changed."
Everything has changed, but I don't tell her that.
She continues, tone cool and dismissive.
"Edward is important. You… are a complication."
I grit my teeth. "I'm not going anywhere."
"We'll see," she whispers.
For the first time since she walked in, her mask slips.
A flicker of real anger passes through her features.
"You think you know him," she says, "but you don't know what he was before you. You don't know the expectations he grew up under."
"I know who he is now."
She scoffs. "You know who he pretends to be when he's trying to impress a woman who shouldn't matter."
I step even closer close enough she takes half a step back.
"Get out of my home," I say again, this time with icy finality.
Clarissa straightens her spine, smoothing down her perfect dress.
"Very well," she says.
"I've said what I needed to say."
She walks toward the door.
But right before stepping out, she turns back.
"I'll tell you one last thing," she murmurs.
"If Edward has to choose between love and power…
you won't win."
She leaves, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
A soft click that feels loud.
Too loud.
Painfully loud.
I stand there in the quiet apartment, her perfume still lingering in the air.
Her words echoing in my mind.
Her warnings.
Her threats.
Her confidence.
Her certainty that I will lose him.
I swallow hard, my chest tight, my palms sweaty.
For the first time since Edward stepped into my life, a cold fear wraps around my heart.
Because Clarissa may be spoiled…
manipulative…
calculating…
But she's not stupid.
She's dangerous.
And the worst part?
Somewhere deep inside, a part of me wonders…
What if she's right?