A surge of inexplicable emotion welled up in Carlisle's chest, his eyes reddening as he glared at Katrina with gritted teeth. "Divorce? Don't even think about it. I won't agree.'

Katrina furrowed her brows in surprise. There was a faint, mocking smile tugging at her lips. "Carlisle, haven't you always wanted to marry Shirley to make up for those regrets from your youth? I'm willingly stepping aside now-what's there to disagree with?"

"I've already told you that there's nothing between me and Shirley! Stop this nonsense!" he snapped, his frustration mounting. "Do you know how ridiculous this sounds? How will Shirley and Ivy hold their heads high if someone finds out?"

Katrina let out a cold, sardonic laugh. "Oh, now you care about appearances? Where was this concern when you were parading her around town?

"Everyone in the social circles of Phoypolis knows Shirley is your mistress. What's the point of pretending to be virtuous now? Don't you think that's a bit hypocritical?"

Her words struck a nerve, igniting the fury simmering within Carlisle. He barked, "Enough! Can you let go of the past already? I've treated you more than fairly-don't push your luck!"

Disappointment filled Katrina's gaze, though she no longer held any expectations for Carlisle.

"If that's how you feel, then sign the divorce agreement. Once it's done, I won't be in your way anymore." The word "divorce" made Carlisle's expression darken further. He felt an unshakable irritability clawing at him. "I won't sign the paper. Forget it. Stop dreaming about it."

Fearing she might say something even more unbearable, Carlisle stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

A few moments later, the sound of a car starting echoed outside, fading into the distance.

Katrina sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion etched on her face as her eyes fell on the shredded divorce papers in the trash. Frustration churned in her chest.

She had finally decided to end this marriage, but Carlisle refused to cooperate.

She didn't understand she had no more value to offer him, so why wouldn't he just let her go?

But her decision was firm. If he wouldn't agree now, she would wait. Eventually, he would tire of this fight and relent. She just had to be patient.

For the past two days, Clara hadn't seen Wren at all. It was as if he had vanished from her life, like a fleeting dream.

Her days continued as usual-teaching at school and returning home in the evenings to teach Alexander how to cook. Life was simple and uneventful, but for once it gave her a rare sense of peace.

During her last class of the day, Clara finished teaching vocabulary and text lessons but felt her throat growing sore. She asked the students to read and memorize on their own while she stepped out to the office to get a glass of water.

She was gone no more than three or four minutes when she returned to the sound of a commotion in the classroom.

Before she even stepped through the door, she heard a boy yelling, his voice raw with anger.

"Give it back! Who said you could touch it?"

Clara's heart skipped a beat as she quickened her pace into the room. What she saw made her stop in her tracks.

At the back of the classroom, two

boys were in the middle of a heated

fight. One of them, wearing a thin, worn sweater, had his classmate by the collar, his eyes red with tears and fury.

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The other boy, in a thick winter jacket, was bigger and sturdier, holding something behind his back with a smug, taunting look on his face.

"I'm not giving it back. What are you going to do about it? Come take it if you can!"

"Give it back! Give it back to me now!" the boy in the sweater yelled, his voice cracking as his whole body trembled with emotion.

Suddenly, someone in the room shouted, "Ms. Salford's here!"

The students who had been watching quickly turned their heads back to their desks, sitting up straight and pretending to study, as if nothing had happened.

But the boy who'd been holding onto his classmate didn't seem to hear. He stubbornly clung to the other boy's jacket, refusing to let go.

The boy holding the stolen item finally turned pale when he spotted Clara at the door. His tone turned defensive as he said, "Billy, let go! The teacher's here!"

Billy Lauer didn't budge, his hand gripping tighter. His voice was hoarse as he demanded, "Harvey Newton, give me back my gloves."noveldrama