Chapter 6

Nelson's cold, clipped demand cut through the air like a blade, slicing straight into Claire's chest.

She slowly lifted her head, meeting his furious gaze head-on.

In that moment, the man standing before her felt like a stranger.

All those years—of waiting, of hoping, of trusting—suddenly seemed like a cruel self-deception.

Her voice was quiet, but steady. "Nelson. Is that really what you think of me? That I'm that kind of woman?"

He faltered.

His anger dimmed, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty.

The man tied up on the floor was bruised and gagged. Claire's clothes, though slightly disheveled, remained intact.

He opened his mouth to speak—but nothing came out.

"Nelson!" Serena's tear-filled eyes clung to him as she grabbed his sleeve. "Don't be mad at my sister. Maybe she… made a mistake. She's been overseas for so long… maybe she got lonely, and… got involved with someone she shouldn't have…"

Her voice trembled with practiced vulnerability.

A few of the guests nearby let out soft sighs, their judgmental eyes falling on Claire, now tinged with pity—or disdain.

Claire's expression didn't change.

Then she laughed—soft, brief, and cold.

She straightened slowly, eyes sweeping over the crowd.

With deliberate calm, she reached into her handbag and pulled out what looked like a lipstick tube.

She pressed a hidden switch.

A faint electric buzz sparked, followed by a crisp, unmistakable recording.

First: the sound of a door slamming shut. Then—the click of a key turning.

Her own shaky breathing came next.

A man's voice barked: "Shut up and stay still! You got paid. Time to earn it."

Then Claire's measured voice: "Who sent you? I'll pay double. Just stop."

A mocking laugh followed. "You think a fake rich girl like you can afford that? Miss Thompson was clear—she wants you humiliated. Ruined. Be a good girl, do as I say, and maybe it won't hurt so bad."

Then—

A sharp scream.

A grunt of pain.

Claire's voice, low and cold: "Move again and it won't just be your nose that breaks."

Silence.

The room was frozen.

The guests—silent. Their smirks vanished.

And Nelson...

His expression, already grim, hardened into something darker.

He turned slowly to Serena, still clutching his sleeve, her face drained of color.

"No—Nelson, listen to me," she stammered. "She's lying! She's framing me! That recording—she faked it!"

Tears streamed down her face, her composure unraveling.

Just then, Elena shoved through the crowd, breathless and alarmed.

"What's going on? What happened to my Serena?"

She rushed to her daughter and pulled her close.

When she saw Serena sobbing uncontrollably, her eyes snapped to Claire—hostile, accusing.

"This is Serena's birthday, Claire. Can't you behave for once?"

Serena buried herself in Elena's arms, crying harder. "Mom, it wasn't me. Claire's blaming me for something I didn't do…"

She trembled violently, as if moments from collapse.

Elena's fury only deepened.

"How could you do this to her? We raised you for twenty years, Claire! And this is how you repay us? With cruelty?"

Nelson's brows drew together as he watched Serena's meltdown.

Instinctively, his foot shifted forward—as it always had, every time Serena had one of her "episodes" these past three years.

Claire saw everything.

She remembered the day Serena returned to this house.

How Elena had rushed to reclaim the master bedroom for her "real" daughter.

How everything that had belonged to Claire was handed over—without hesitation.

For years, she'd been treated like a shadow. A servant. A placeholder.

Two decades of so-called family ties—torn in an instant.

And now, they dared to look at her like she was the one who'd betrayed them.

Claire crossed her arms, voice steady but sharp.

"Serena, you brought a crowd here hoping they'd catch me in some compromising scene. What if they had?"

Serena flinched, curled tighter into Elena's embrace, still sobbing—but said nothing.

Elena's voice rose, shaking with rage. "Claire, can't you be the bigger person? Look at what you've done—Serena can't even breathe!"

"Enough," Nelson said at last. His voice was low, cold. "Serena's not stable right now."

Claire turned to him.

She smiled.

"So every time she falls apart, I'm expected to stand down? To take the blame? Is that my role in this house?"

Nelson's jaw tightened. "Now's not the time to argue."

"No," Claire said. "You're right. Let's not argue."

She paused.

"Let's just end it."

Her eyes met his, unwavering.

"I've already signed the divorce papers."