Clara’s POV

“Aaron… how… how did you know?”

I collapsed onto the sofa, voice quaking like wind-torn leaves. Shock tsunami’d, drowning me.

All my upfront tricks—faking illness, tearful pleas, emotional ploys—clown show in his eyes, just farce. He’d known all along? From when? Lucas’s accounts? Brian’s probes? Elin’s eighteenth birthday bar fiasco? Heart ashen, humiliation knifing soul-deep.

So, every scheme I’d schemed to hide—he knew from the start. Watched ...