No Strings Attached novel Chapter 3

Hearing those words, Ian's expression turned icy in an instant. His dark eyes fixed on Clara with an intensity that felt like a physical force. "I've told you before I'm not the marrying kind, Clara. If you couldn't handle that, you shouldn't have agreed to this."

A faint redness tinged the corners of Clara's eyes. "It was different before, Ian. It was just the two of us. Now, there's a third."-

"She can't threaten you."

Clara let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "She just makes one call, and you drop everything for her, leaving me in the dust. Tell me, Ian, how is that not a threat?"

A flash of anger sparked in Ian's eyes. "You're making a mountain out of a molehill over a little menstrual pain?"

"What if it was more? What if I was pregnant?"

"Don't try to trap me with talk of a kid. I've always been careful!"

His voice was cold, his words unhesitating. If there were a child, he'd probably drag her to get rid of it.

The last shred of hope in Clara's heart shattered. She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, the pain unnoticed.

She lifted her chin, her smile bitter. "You once said that we were all about the romance, not the nuptials. That if one of us got bored, we'd part amicably. Well, Ian, I'm done. Let's break up."

Her words were crisp, devoid of any hesitation, but no one could see the fresh wound bleeding in her heart.

Ian's hands tensed, the veins standing out like cords, his gaze piercing Clara. "Do you even realize what you're saying?"

"I know you hate to hear it from me, but I'm tired, Ian. I'm tired of a love that's divided among three."

She had been foolish before, believing that love was enough, that marriage didn't matter. But she was wrong because Ian's heart had never truly been with her.

The words were a knife to Clara's heart. Her three years of devotion had been nothing but a sordid transaction to Ian. She had been the fool, thinking he loved her.

With that realization, every inch of her skin felt as if it were being torn by hounds. The grief in her eyes turned to ice. "Three years should be enough to repay your kindness. We're even now, Ian. From here on out, we go our separate ways,"

Ian glared at Clara's defiant face, the anger in his eyes growing. "Clara, I'll give you one night to think it over. Then we talk." With that, he left, his aura as cold as a winter storm.

Clara curled up on the bed, alone. Tears she'd held back all this while began to cascade down her cheeks.

Her seven years of affection and three years of tender care was actually part of a shameful deal in Ian’s eyes.

In the game of love, the first to fall was the first to lose. And she had fallen for Ian four years before he even noticed her.

She had lost, miserably and utterly.