I Left Him after He Chose The Sister-in-law

The call ended with Clementine’s final soft line: "Stay safe from now on."

Leonidas couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different with her this time. When he tried calling her right back, her phone went straight to voicemail—powered off. He lit a cigarette, smoke curling slow around his jaw, and calmly ordered Uriel to reset the room to how it was before, and buy back every piece of jewelry Clementine had sold.

Uriel nodded and took down every instruction, though confusion niggled at him. Mr. Lopez clearly cared deeply about his wife, always jumping to fulfill whatever she asked for… yet he almost always came off as cold and distant. Still, he was a professional assistant. He shoved his curiosity down fast. "Shall we head out to pick up Mrs. Lopez?"

"Let her have her space for now," Leonidas replied. Things had spun too far out of control lately, gotten way too heated.

After hanging up, Clementine lay awake in bed, her mind stuck on one looping, sickening thought: someone was out to hurt Leonidas. She tossed and turned for thirty minutes before finally throwing the covers off and sitting up, frustrated out of her mind. "C’mon. Leonidas has connections everywhere. He’s already thought through every risk. Worrying isn’t going to fix a damn thing."

But sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how hard she tried. So she flipped open her laptop. The day she moved out of the townhouse, she’d sent out her resume. Shockingly, she’d gotten a reply this fast. She’d landed an interview—and the earliest opening they had was today.

The research institute under Aeronautics West wasn’t the top in the region, but it had a solid, respected reputation. At 10 a.m., fresh off a sleepless night, Clementine sat sharp and alert in front of the interview panel. After introducing herself, she leaned back and waited for their questions.

The three of them murmured quietly over her resume, then a female interviewer spoke up: "Even with the two-year gap in your work history, in our line of work, we care far more about expertise and raw skill. Your university record is outstanding, and the awards you’ve won are internationally recognized…"

A small, easy smile tugged at Clementine’s lips. She’d always known her skills weren’t the problem. Then the interviewer’s tone shifted: "Unfortunately, we can’t offer you the position at this time."

"Why not?" Clementine asked, her smile fading fast.

The interviewer’s gaze flickered away. She only said vaguely that the role had already been filled, and refused to say anything more. Clementine stood up and left. One rejection could be bad luck. But getting turned down by three different companies in two days? That wasn’t a coincidence. That was intentional.

By the third attempt, she didn’t even make it past the receptionist desk— the front desk girl tried to shoo her away before she even got to meet the hiring team. In such a niche industry, there were barely any other options beyond these three firms.

"I deserve a real explanation," Clementine said, her voice calm but unyielding. "Otherwise I’ll file a formal complaint. And even if I don’t win, I’ll drag your reputation through the mud so bad no one will dare work with you ever again."

The young receptionist, fresh out of college, went pale. She hesitated, then blurted: "Don’t make this harder on me, Ms. Stephens. From what I heard, the higher-ups loved you. Maybe you should stop and think… who did you cross lately?"

Clementine left, her mind spinning. The receptionist was probably right. But she’d rubbed a lot of people the wrong way recently: Samara, Benjamin Lopez, Leonidas.

In the end, the only person with enough power to pull strings like this was Leonidas. No one else came close.

A little after 7 p.m., Clementine hailed a cab and headed straight for the Grand Hotel. Leonidas had called her the day before, asking her to tag along to an aerospace gala that night. She’d said no. Because two days before that, Lopez Corporation’s official account had dropped a public statement clarifying everything: the chaos at the previous event was all the hotel’s fault, the CEO and his first lady were still very much in love, and everyone needed to stop spreading wild speculation.

The internet wasn’t buying it, which meant she and Leonidas had to show up together and put on a show of a happy, stable marriage. But Clementine wanted a divorce, and she wasn’t about to play her part in his little charade. Still, this gala made or broke the corporation’s next big deal. Whether she showed or not, Leonidas was going to be there.

Clementine walked into the grand ballroom in jeans and sneakers, sticking out like a sore thumb against all the silk and diamond opulence all around her. When people noticed her walk in, CEOs and socialites alike started darting glances and whispering to each other.

Just a few days ago, this woman had caused a scene at a corporate banquet, announced she was divorcing the most powerful man in the industry—it was a better show than any celebrity gossip. Clementine spotted Leonidas easily. His dark gray suit pulled tight over his broad, towering frame. Amidst all the paunchy, middle-aged executives milling around, he stood out like a majestic alpha wolf in a pack of brawling hounds.

She walked straight toward him. An executive standing next to Leonidas noticed her approach and chuckled: "Mr. Lopez gets here first, Mrs. Lopez right on his heels. Guess all those rumors online are just garbage, huh?"

"Excuse us," Leonidas nodded, then tucked Clementine’s hand through his arm and led her to a quiet nook by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He tilted his head, looking down at her. "You calmed down now?"

She wrenched her hand out of his grip. "Leonidas, I underestimated you. You’d really pull this kind of underhanded bullshit?"

Leonidas furrowed his dark brows. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Three different companies, including Aeronautics West, all pulled my job offers out from under me. You’re gonna stand there and tell me that wasn’t you?"

The man chuckled low, and curled a firm arm around her waist to yank her close. "Want to go back to work that bad? Report to my secretary’s office tomorrow."

"Pour your coffee? I’d rather do makeup for corpses at a funeral home than that," Clementine shot back.

Leonidas didn’t even blink at the bite. He cupped the side of her neck, leaned in, and pressed his mouth to hers. A tall Corinthian column beside them hid them from the rest of the ballroom’s prying eyes.

His kiss was heated, sharp, edged with punishment. "The office has private partitions. And a leather couch," he murmured against her throat. "You can lay down while I work."

The pause after "work" hung heavy between them, loaded with implication.

Clementine bit hard into his shoulder, until she tasted copper blood on her tongue. Only then did Leonidas loosen his grip on her just a little.

"Leonidas, you’re forcing my hand here," she declared, and turned to walk away. No matter what she said, he always brushed off her feelings like she was just throwing a tantrum. But no one got to call the shots for her life.

Leonidas glanced at the small, dark bloodstain blooming on his white dress shirt, and cursed with a amused smirk. "Fucking feral, just like a dog."

But the second he looked up, his smile froze solid.

Clementine, glass of champagne in hand, was walking straight toward Raphael Garza—Leonidas’s oldest, most hated enemy—right in front of every guest in the room.