Clara collapsed back against the solid wood, her chest heaving as she fought for air. She let go of the fabric, allowing the massive, glittering silk gown to pool heavily onto the plush carpet, leaving her shivering in only her delicate undergarments.
With trembling, frantic fingers, she reached into the loosened folds of the corset and pulled out the crumpled red note.
Clara stumbled into the sprawling, attached marble bathroom. She collapsed onto the edge of the massive white porcelain bathtub, staring down at the horrific words scrawled in blood-red ink.
Leo's accident was not a random hit-and-run. The vehicle that struck your brother is registered to a ghost shell corporation owned by Apex Technologies.
Her fragile defenses completely shattered.
Violent, silent sobs violently wracked her slender shoulders. Hot tears streamed down her perfectly contoured cheeks, ruining her flawless bridal makeup.
It wasn't an accident.
Her innocent little brother had been brutally sacrificed like a lamb to the slaughter, completely run down in the street just to force her into a state of absolute, paralyzing despair. And now, she was legally trapped inside the monster's lair, bound by a ten-million-dollar blood contract she couldn't possibly break.
But a darker realization simultaneously chilled her to the bone. Uncle Arthur hadn't handed her this horrific information out of the goodness of his heart. The old man had deliberately turned her into a live, ticking time bomb. Arthur fully intended for Clara to detonate from the inside out and completely destroy Richard.
They were all absolute monsters.
Clara viciously wiped the tears from her face.
The absolute despair in her hazel eyes instantly vanished, entirely replaced by the freezing, lethal glare of a cold-blooded killer. Her paralyzing sorrow evaporated into a blazing, roaring inferno of pure vengeance.
She reached into the pocket of her discarded gown and pulled out a small book of matches—something she had discreetly stolen from the hotel reception desk earlier that evening.
Standing over the marble sink, she struck a match and set the red note completely ablaze. She watched with dead, hollow eyes as the physical evidence of Richard's manipulation curled, blackened, and turned to ash.
Clara turned on the golden faucet, washing every single microscopic flake of ash down the drain until the porcelain was perfectly spotless.
She absolutely refused to be a helpless victim anymore. She would never be Richard's obedient pawn, and she would never let Arthur control her strings. She was going to burn them all to the ground.
One hour later, Clara finally stepped out of her bedroom. She was wearing nothing but a thick, white cotton bathrobe.
The main lights of the sprawling penthouse had been completely extinguished. The long hallway was pitch-black, illuminated only by the faint, silver glow of the moonlight slicing through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Clara walked completely silently across the thick carpet. Her only intention was to slip into the massive kitchen to get a glass of water.
But she froze instantly in her tracks.
A razor-thin sliver of warm, golden light was spilling out from beneath the heavy oak door of Richard's private study.
The forbidden door had not been completely shut. It was cracked open exactly half an inch.
A dangerous, venomous curiosity, fueled entirely by her newfound thirst for vengeance, completely overrode her common sense. Clara crept silently toward the heavy oak door. She held her breath and carefully pressed her ear against the narrow crack.
She could hear Richard speaking on his phone. His baritone voice was incredibly low, dropping to a lethal, deadly hiss.
"I absolutely do not care how you manage to pull it off, David. You need to completely eradicate that vehicle tonight."
Clara completely froze. It felt as though a massive steel sledgehammer had just slammed directly into her chest.
"Do not let the traffic police find a single trace of that license plate anywhere near Leo Evans' accident site," Richard ordered ruthlessly, his tone completely devoid of a single ounce of remorse or guilt. "Crush the entire engine block. Melt the chassis down to slag. If Clara ever discovers that one of our corporate vehicles struck her brother, this entire operation will spectacularly implode."
Absolute confirmation.
Straight from the devil's own mouth.
Clara's blood boiled violently in her veins. Her entire body began to shake with pure, unadulterated rage. Without even realizing what she was doing, her right hand clenched into a rock-solid fist.
In a moment of blind, blinding fury, her knuckles violently struck the heavy oak door.
Thud.
The soft sound echoed like a gunshot in the dead silent hallway.
The muffled conversation inside the study stopped instantly. A suffocating, terrifying silence aggressively swallowed the air.
Clara's eyes went wide with sheer, absolute panic. Her heart stopped beating entirely. She frantically scrambled backward, desperate to disappear into the shadows.
But she was far too late.
The heavy oak door was violently yanked open from the inside.
Richard's massive, imposing frame completely blocked the doorway. Half of his face was swallowed by the dark shadows of the unlit hallway, terrifyingly concealing his lethal expression. His phone was still pressed tightly to his ear.
His dark, predatory eagle eyes instantly locked onto Clara's terrified face, perfectly trapping the prey who had just blatantly violated the absolute most critical rule of their very first night together.
"I will call you back, David," Richard whispered softly, his pitch-black gaze never once wavering from Clara's face. "It appears my lovely new wife is incredibly eager to drastically accelerate her own execution tonight."
Richard smoothly disconnected the call. He took a single, slow, terrifying step forward, completely trapping Clara between his massive chest and the freezing, unyielding wall of the dark hallway.