Chapter Three

*FIVE YEARS LATER*

Claire's POV

"I'll be getting married. I got engaged yesterday, so I would love you to meet the person I’ll be marrying," my father said casually, like he was talking about the weather.

I didn’t flinch. I wasn’t surprised. I saw this coming the moment he divorced his last wife. He moved on fast like he always did.

"You never tell me your plans. So why are you informing me about this now?" I asked, voice flat, barely hiding the disinterest as I almost stood up from the couch.

I was the illegitimate child, and I have always been treated like one ever since he successfully took me from my mother.

I was not ready for whatever wrapped up in his sleeves.

"I want to give you a chance," he said. "You’ll be having a stepbrother now."

I paused, narrowing my eyes. A chance? What was he playing at this time?

He clasped his hands, sitting properly, trying to look sincere?

I dropped the hand that had been resting on my waist and stared at him, waiting for the next absurd thing to come out of his mouth.

"Okay. I'm listening."

"I'm giving you a chance to take over the company. I want you to have all my shares," he said.

I scoffed before I could stop myself. Was this some sort of joke or test? It better be.

This had to be some twisted game. For years, I was nothing to him. Now he wanted to hand me the empire?

As much as I craved a position like that, something to prove I was really strong and such position would be the least of things I could handle.

I knew what could and couldn’t be mine. No way the shareholders would just sit back and let the illegitimate daughter take the throne.

"I'm talking to you, Claire," he pressed. "But there's a condition."

I stood halfway, ready to leave, then paused. Of course there was a condition. There always was.

"What condition?" I asked, my jaw tight.

"The person I’m marrying has a son. I want you to work with him—on a project. If the project succeeds, everything is yours. We can sign a contract if you want," he explained.

I blinked, stunned at how absurdly transactional it sounded.

"Why are you doing all this suddenly? Is it really about the engagement or—"

"This is my way of apologizing," he cut in. His voice softened. "I’ve always been a bad father. I just want to make up for it—"

He paused, taking a deep breath.

I stilled.

His words didn’t register at first. My nails dug sharply into my palm as I stared at him.

Did he just...apologize? Someone better wake me up right now.

After all these years?

I never thought I’d live to hear those words come from his mouth. And somehow, they didn’t make me feel better. They made it worse. Like a wound I had learned to live with had just been scraped open again.

"This was earlier than I expected—the apology," I said with a hollow laugh, the ache in my chest bleeding through my sarcasm.

I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t been okay for years.

"I shouldn’t have turned my back on you when you needed me most. You’ve changed completely." He reached out, trying to touch my hand. "You don’t look like Claire anymore. You—"

"Yes, I changed." My voice was low, steady, sharp. "I’m no longer the daughter who cried when you scolded her. No longer the girl who begged for your attention. You all made me this way and I’m glad I did."

I checked the time like I had somewhere far more important to be.

"I’m really sorry."

"I have to go now. Let me know when I’ll be meeting my soon-to-be stepbrother. Let’s discuss the project. I have a shoot."

---

LATER IN THE EVENING

I stared at myself in the mirror one last time.

Damn, I looked good.

I traced the curve of my cheekbone with one finger. My skin glowed, my makeup sharp, my figure snatched. Obsession wasn’t even the word—I had become the woman I used to envy.

But despite everything, my father’s words still rang in my head: You’ve changed completely.

Yes. I had.

I lost over sixty pounds. I bled for every pound I shed. I ran through shame and hate and memories that wouldn’t die.

I worked out until my legs trembled, until Nate’s voice—the mocking, the groaning, the betrayal—echoed like a chant in my ears.

After that night, I vanished. I left that school, and made sure I never stepped in my foot there anymore. I took it upon myself to work on my body and achieve my goals.

I worked hard and now I'm currently an actress and a model too.

Now? Now they wanted to associate with me. They wanted selfies, brands, representation. This was still the little I've achieved and I still have a lot more to achieve.

I was a plus-size model. The face of survival. A middle finger to every bastard who ever laughed at me.

"Let’s not get into a bad mood this evening," I muttered, patting my cheek, forcing a smile. I wasn’t doing this for them—I was doing it for me.

I walked out of my room.

From the top of the stairs, I could see him.

Just his back, long hair which reached his shoulder.

A presence I had tried to forget. He reminded me about someone. Someone I hated tu the core and a person I would never want to remember.

"Hey! You look so pretty," my father said, catching me staring.

Was this part of his performance? Trying to pretend like we had a relationship?

Fine. I’d play the role, too.

The guest turned around.

My chest clenched, while my throat tightened. It felt as if everything else around me stopped.

Nate.

Five years.

Five long, agonizing years of nightmares, questions, anger and there he was. In my father’s living room.

I stood there, frozen. My legs wanted to give out. But I held myself up, I couldn't let me see through me.

I’d always wondered what I’d do if I ever saw him again. I used to picture punching him in the face. I used to cry into my pillow at the thought of seeing him smirk like nothing ever happened.

He didn’t recognize me. Not yet. The confusion on his face said it all.

I dug my nails into my palm, summoning my strength. Then I walked down the stairs.

One slow, controlled step after another.

When I reached the bottom, my father hugged me lightly. Nate’s eyes burned into my back. I could feel it.

"Let me get you both something to drink," my father offered, then disappeared.

I sat across from him. We stared at each other. No words. Just tension thick enough to choke on.

"You might injure yourself that way—" His gaze dropped to my hands. My fingers were digging into my skin. I slowly removed my fingers see how he has noticed.

"Have we met before? You look familiar."

I let out a slow breath. "Wow. I’m surprised you don’t remember me."

"Someone’s coming to mind, but… I don’t think it’s you," he said, eyes narrowing.

I scoffed.

No one would believe it was me. No one would believe that the girl he used like trash could turn into this.

"Oh, you know me. I’m probably the same person you’re thinking about."

His body stiffened.

"Wait—you're Claire?" he asked, sitting upright.

"I thought you would’ve done some research into the family you’re joining." I shrugged. My voice was calm, but my blood was boiling.

I hadn’t done any research either. But he was always close to his family. He should have known.

"I honestly—"

I didn’t care. I had so much I wanted to scream, but my dad’s voice cut in.

"Meet my fiancé," he said, his tone proud.

A man stood beside him. Middle-aged. Well-dressed.

Nate sighed and leaned back again, clearly irritated.

"Huh? Where is she?" I asked, eyes darting toward the entrance.

"Who told you I was getting married to a lady?" my father said with a small smile. "This is the person I’m marrying."

He looked at the man beside him. Their hands found each other’s waists.

Then they kissed. Woah!

This is crazy, someone better wake me up right now.