Chapter 9

Elena's POV

I forced myself to meet Claire's eyes in the mirror's reflection, keeping my expression neutral.

"Claire," I said, turning to face her directly. "Small world."

"Isn't it?" She glided closer, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

Her gaze swept over the deep blue gown I was wearing, then moved to the rack of dresses the personal shopper had pulled for me.

"I have to say, I'm surprised to see you here. "

I watched her calculate, trying to make sense of my presence in a store where a single dress could cost more than a month's rent on my old apartment.

"Things change," I said simply.

Claire's smile sharpened.

"They certainly do."

She moved closer, lowering her voice as if we were old friends sharing confidences.

"You know, Elena, I've been in this world long enough to recognize certain patterns. Young women who suddenly have access to places like this usually have... benefactors. Is that what happened? Did you find yourself a generous sponsor after Julian?"

The words landed exactly as she'd intended them to—a calculated strike designed to humiliate.

I felt heat rise in my chest, but I kept my voice level.

"My finances are my own business."

"Of course they are." Claire's tone dripped with false sympathy. "I'm not judging, really. Sometimes a girl has to do what she has to do. Though I have to admit, I didn't think you'd give up so quickly. You seemed so determined to make it on your own merit."

She was baiting me, waiting for me to defend myself, to explain, to show weakness.

"Is there something specific you wanted, Claire? Or did you just come over to practice your mean girl routine?"

Her expression flickered—a brief flash of genuine anger before the mask of sweetness returned.

"Actually, I wanted to share some news." She held up her left hand, angling it so the light caught on a diamond ring. "Julian proposed last week. We're getting married."

I looked at the ring, really looked at it, and something clicked into place.

The setting was familiar—a vintage-inspired design with an emerald-cut center stone flanked by smaller diamonds in an Art Deco pattern.

I'd spent hours with Julian at a jeweler in the Diamond District, designing exactly this ring.

He'd sketched it on napkins, revised it, insisted on perfect proportions.

For me. He'd designed it for me.

"Congratulations," I said, my voice flat.

Claire's smile widened, triumphant. "Thank you. Julian said he wanted to do it right this time. No more waiting, no more uncertainty. He's ready to build a real future with someone who understands his world."

"That's quite a ring," I said, still studying it. "The setting is beautiful. Very... specific design."

"Isn't it?" Claire's voice was warm with pride. "Julian designed it himself. He said he wanted something unique, something that reflected our relationship."

I almost laughed. The sheer audacity of it—giving her a ring he'd designed for me, letting her believe it was created for her.

But something else caught my attention.

"Can I see it closer?" I asked.

Claire hesitated, then extended her hand.

I took it, examining the ring under the boutique's bright lights.

The setting was perfect, exactly as Julian and I had designed it. But the fit was wrong. The band sat loose on her finger, rotating slightly when she moved.

"It's a little big," I observed. "You'll need to get it resized."

"Julian said he'll take care of that," Claire said quickly, pulling her hand back. "He wanted to propose right away, so we'll adjust the size later."

"Of course." I released her hand and stepped back. "Though usually, when a man is serious about proposing, he makes sure the ring fits. It's kind of an important detail."

I paused, letting the implication settle.

"That looks like it's about a size six. My size, actually. Funny coincidence."

I watched the realization dawn on Claire's face—the ring wasn't just too big for her, it was sized for someone else.

For me.

"Julian was just excited," she said, but her voice had lost its confidence. "He couldn't wait another day to make it official."

"I'm sure that's it." I turned back to the mirror, adjusting the gown's neckline. "Well, I hope you'll both be very happy. Though you should know—you don't need to worry about me anymore."

"Worry about you?" Claire's laugh was brittle. "Why would I worry about you?"

I met her eyes in the mirror. " Claire—I'm married now. So whatever you and Julian have, whatever future you're building, it has nothing to do with me. You can stop performing."

The color drained from Claire's face. "You're... married?"

"As of last weekend." I touched the wedding band on my left hand—a simple platinum band that Arthur had insisted I wear in private, even though we were keeping the marriage hidden. "So you see, you really don't need to waste your energy trying to make me jealous. Julian and I are done. Completely, permanently done."

Claire stared at me, and I watched her mind work through the implications. Her expression shifted from shock to calculation to something uglier—dawning comprehension.

"That's why," she said slowly. "That's why Julian suddenly proposed. He found out you'd moved on, and he couldn't stand it."

Claire's hands clenched into fists, the oversized ring spinning loosely on her finger. "This whole thing was about you."

"Claire—"

"No."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

"You think you've won? I'm going to destroy you, Elena. Whatever perfect little life you think you're building, I'm going to tear it apart piece by piece. I'm going to make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of person you really are."

The personal shopper appeared at my elbow, her expression professionally concerned. "Ms. Vance? Is everything all right?"

I kept my eyes on Claire, watching the rage twist her features into something ugly and desperate.

"Everything's fine," I said calmly. "Ms. Harrington was just leaving."

Claire opened her mouth, then closed it. She looked at me one more time, her eyes promising future retribution, then turned and walked away, her heels striking the floor as hammer blows.