Daddy’s billionaire step-brother
Chapter 51: Dark sunset

Clara hesitated, her words stumbling out. "I saw him... Adrian. He's here. I need to talk to him—”

Richard cut her off sharply, his expression hardening. "I know," he said, his voice clipped. "Adrian was invited by the Caldwells. He's just a guest at this event, nothing more." Clara's eyes widened. Her mind raced, struggling to reconcile the situation. "I need to talk to him," she insisted, her voice shaky but determined.

Richard's patience snapped. "No!" His tone rose, anger flashing in his eyes. "What you need to do is go to Caldwell's room and convince him the child you're carrying is his. That's your priority. Not chasing after the man who has already abandoned you."

Clara flinched at his words, the harsh reality sinking in, but she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. "I just need to talk to him. Please, Dad-just for a moment-"

Her father stepped closer, his towering presence overwhelming the small room. "Talk to him about what, Clara? What are you going to say? Do you want the Caldwells to suspect something? You want everyone to know that not only you slept with your uncle, but was left pregnant with his child? This would ruin everything!"

Clara's throat tightened, and she shook her head. "There's nothing between us anymore," she said, her voice breaking. "I just need to talk to him, to confront him..."

"To say what?" Richard demanded. His voice was ice-cold now, his eyes burning with anger and disappointment. "That you're carrying his child? A child he doesn't want? He knows! You think Adrian cares about you? He doesn't! He's left you ruined, Clara. You need to focus on what truly matters: your wedding, your future as Mrs. Henry Caldwell, and your obligations to his father. That's the only thing that can save you now."

Clara's resolve crumbled. Tears welled up in her eyes as the weight of her father's words crushed her. She knew, deep down, that he was right. Adrian had left. He wasn't coming back for her or their child. What could she possibly say to him that would change anything?

She felt trapped, suffocated by the situation, by the choices she had made. Her father's words were like a slap to the face, a brutal reminder of the reality she had to face.

Clara wiped at her tears, her voice small and broken. "You're right, Dad," she whispered, her heart shattering under the weight of it all. "I'll do what I have to."

Richard's expression softened just slightly, but there was no kindness in his eyes, only cold pragmatism. "Good."

Clara stood outside the door to the presidential suite, her heart pounding in her chest as she clutched the soft fabric of her black satin robe. The luxurious hotel seemed to mock her with its gleaming lights and ornate decorations. She felt hollow, numb from the pills her father had given her, and devastated by the reality of what she was about to do.

She hesitated, her hand trembling as it reached up to knock on the door. When she finally did, the sound felt too loud, echoing in the silence of the late night.

The door swung open, and Mr. Caldwell stood there, his expression shifting from curiosity to a slow, intrigued smile as he saw her standing there.

"Clara," he greeted her, his voice low and smooth, as if he had been expecting her. "What brings you here so late?"

Clara forced a smile, the mask of seduction slipping into place even though every part of her wanted to turn and run. "I was feeling so alone in my room," she said softly, stepping forward. "And I was wondering if I could stay with you... just for a little while."

He arched an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in his eyes for a brief moment, but then he stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. "Of course," he said smoothly. "Come in."

Clara stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. The suite was grand, lavish in a way that made her feel even more out of place. She swallowed hard, her throat dry.

"Would you like some wine?" Mr. Caldwell asked, his voice casual but laced with something darker.

"Yes, please," Clara replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He poured her a glass, handing it to her with a steady hand, before pouring one for himself. She took a sip, the wine bitter on her tongue, but she forced herself to drink. She needed something to help numb the sick feeling twisting in her stomach.

"I've been thinking a lot about the contract," Clara began, her voice sounding distant even to her own ears.

Mr. Caldwell leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And? What have you concluded?"

Clara set down her glass, taking a deep breath before delivering the words she knew he wanted to hear. "I realized... it's for the best. Henry, well... he's just a boy." She paused, her voice growing softer, more intimate. "Boys don't know how to please a woman. But you... I bet you do."

A spark of lust flickered in his eyes, and Clara felt bile rise in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She had to stay focused. She had to protect her baby, no matter what.

Mr. Caldwell stood, his gaze roaming over her body, lingering on the curve of her hips beneath the robe. His eyes darkened with desire.

Clara set down her wine glass and, with trembling fingers, undid the knot of her robe. The satin slipped from her shoulders, revealing the black lingerie she wore beneath, the garter belt carefully chosen to hide the slight swell of her belly. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but she forced herself to meet his gaze, knowing that this was the only way.

Mr. Caldwell's breath hitched as his eyes took her in, and he stepped closer, his hands immediately finding her waist. His fingers were cold, possessive as they roamed over her body, lingering at her hips and moving up to her chest. Clara stood still, every touch feeling like a violation, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't. Instead, she closed her eyes, letting the darkness swallow her as Mr. Caldwell's hands explored her skin.

"You're making a very smart choice, Clara," he whispered in her ear, his voice thick with lust. "You won't regret this."

But Clara already did.