Chapter 1
686words
Four years later, as I was carrying my child and heading home, I found myself suddenly surrounded by a group of men in black suits.
Julian Vance emerged from their midst, his face dark with fury as he demanded in an ice-cold voice:
"Clara, who the hell gave you the right to secretly bear my child?"
I shot him a contemptuous look. "You actually think you deserve to have a child with me?"
He seemed to have conveniently forgotten.
How he'd forced contraceptives down my throat so he could focus on his precious little princess.
How he'd warned me—threatened me, really—never to get pregnant.
I never thought I'd cross paths with Julian Vance again.
That day, my boss in Chicago sent me to O'Hare's private terminal to receive some hotshot clients flying in from New York.
I knew Vance Technology Group was Julian's company.
But for a deal this size, I figured they'd send a regional director at most.
So when Julian Vance himself—founder and CEO—stepped off that plane, I felt my stomach drop.
Trailing behind him was his college sweetheart, Isabelle Reed, with her daughter from a previous marriage in tow. The kid must be around seven by now. Not Julian's blood, but clearly the apple of his eye.
During our marriage, he'd ditched me countless times for this mother-daughter duo.
Isabelle froze for a split second when she spotted me.
Julian, though, didn't miss a beat. His icy gaze swept over me from head to toe, his tone razor-sharp:
"Clara, you were so damn insistent on that divorce. I thought you might actually amount to something. Never expected you'd end up looking this… pathetic without me."
When Daddy's business was booming, I never knew what hardship meant.
Later, when my family's empire crumbled, Julian refused to bail my father out, but he made sure I never lacked the basics.
My entire outfit today costs less than 500 bucks. Next to Isabelle with her limited-edition platinum crocodile Birkin, I probably did look like a charity case.
I bit my tongue. I was here to work, not to piss off my boss's VIP client. Plastering on my most professional smile, I smoothly changed the subject:
"Mr. Vance, our CEO has arranged a welcome dinner. Allow me to escort you and your family to the hotel first."
I thought my tone was perfectly professional, but Julian's face darkened like a thundercloud, his voice dropping to arctic levels:
"That fake smile of yours makes me sick to my stomach."
With that, he stormed past me.
Isabelle released her daughter's hand and sidled up to me, her voice honey-sweet but dripping with venom:
"Clara, darling, as you can see—four years ago or four years later—you're still the person Julian loathes most in this world."
"He's only in Chicago because my daughter and I wanted a little getaway. The business is just his excuse to tag along with us. Otherwise, trust me, you'd never have laid eyes on him again."
"Word of advice? Stop throwing yourself at him. It just makes you look desperate and cheap."
No wonder Julian would personally handle a deal this small.
I couldn't help but remember how during our six years of marriage, I'd begged him countless times to take a vacation with me.
But he always had some bullshit excuse about being swamped with work.
Once, I finally convinced him to agree to Tahiti. I was so excited I couldn't sleep a wink that night.
But after three hours of waiting at the airport the next day, all I got was a damn phone call:
"Isabelle's kid is sick. She can't handle it alone. Clara, just go enjoy yourself."
I nearly passed out from crying at that airport. My heart felt like it had been ripped from my chest.
But today? I couldn't care less.
I smiled coolly. "Miss Reed, rest assured—I lost all interest in your precious Julian years ago."
She narrowed her eyes. "You'd better mean that, or I know a hundred ways to make your life a living hell."
