Chapter 7
Claire Lane stepped out of the banquet hall and walked to the pool outside.
Only when the breeze lifted did her breathing finally ease.
She planned to wait here until the banquet ended. She wanted to ask Ethan Vance to return her necklace.
Lana Reed had dozed off on a lounge chair by the pool.
She didn’t know how long had passed.
Lana Reed appeared with a small crowd and stopped in front of her.
“Claire, you stole my husband and still have the nerve to show up at our celebration. You really deserve to die!”
Claire’s heart sank.
Again. Lana Reed was going to make a scene.
They were the ones who had threatened her to come—
and yet…
Her injuries still hadn’t healed.
She stood to turn away, but Lana’s people blocked her in.
Claire looked at Lana coldly.
“What do you want this time?”
Lana’s smile tilted wickedly.
“Claire, did you really think that after touching my man you wouldn’t have to pay anything? You think I’m too kind.”
“You—”
Claire was so angry she could barely speak.
“I want you to kneel in public and slap yourself ten times.”
“And when I came out just now, someone spilled champagne on my crystal shoes. Why don’t you lick them clean for me?”
“Oh, and admit you’re wrong—you’re the shameless home‑wrecker.”
Lana sneered, chin high.
Claire stared at her in disbelief.
“You… how can you be so unreasonable? I wasn’t a mistress. I won’t admit it.”
Just then, Ethan Vance approached with polished, elegant steps.
“Lana doesn’t need to be reasonable. I’m the one backing her.”
“Whatever Lana tells you to do, you do it. Or you’ll suffer for it.”
He drew Lana into his arms, voice full of indulgence and spoiling.
The bodyguards kicked Claire back down to her knees.
Claire shook with rage.
“I did nothing wrong. I won’t apologize—and I’m not a mistress.”
She raised her head and fixed Ethan with an icy stare.
Tears rimmed her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall.
“Ethan Vance, I already agreed to leave you. Why won’t you let me go?”
“Ethan Vance, am I really the one at fault? Isn’t it you?”
“You made the mistake. Are you torturing me to quiet your guilt?”
Her words landed on his softest spot.
His brows drew together; his gaze turned predatory and dark.
“Smack!”
Lana snapped a slap across her face, cutting her off.
“How dare you accuse Ethan? Where do you get the nerve?”
Claire’s head snapped to the side.
When she turned back, she glared at Ethan again.
Lana, angrier still, slapped her a second time.
Ethan looked on coldly, like a distant, indifferent god.
Only after several slaps did Lana stop.
She shook out her tingling hand and whined at Ethan,
“Honey, my hand hurts.”
Ethan caught her hand and blew lightly on her palm.
“To handle trash like this, why should you lift a finger? Let the bodyguards do it.”
Lana giggled sweetly at him. “Okay.”
She flicked a glance at the guards.
“Beat her—until she apologizes.”
The men hit hard. Two blows and Claire’s cheeks swelled high.
A molar loosened; her mouth filled with a metallic taste.
Still, she refused to apologize.
Lana fumed.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. Slowly, he took a sand‑glass necklace from his inner pocket.
“Are you sure you won’t apologize?”
He swung the necklace in his hand, the threat unmistakable.
Claire stared at it; tears fell to the ground one by one.
She tried to speak, but a mouthful of blood spilled over her lips.
“Ethan Vance, give me back the necklace. It was my father’s…”
He looked at her coldly, eyes still venomous.
“You promised you would keep it well,”
Claire said, eyes reddening. Her mouth hurt so badly her words blurred.
On her knees, she shuffled forward two steps until she was before him
and held out her hand.
“Hurry—give it to me. I already agreed to leave you. I did everything you asked. You can’t go back on your word.”
Speaking sent pain rippling through her body; even breathing hurt.
“Apologize.”
Ethan spat the word, icy and clipped.
It was as if all strength left Claire’s limbs; she slumped to the ground, barely able to breathe.
Inside the tiny hourglass, the sand kept sliding—
marking time and love slipping away.
Those grains were her father’s ashes.
Claire had no choice. She knelt before Lana Reed.
“I’m sorry, Miss Reed. I shouldn’t have saved Ethan Vance. I shouldn’t have fallen in love with him. I shouldn’t have been with him.”
“I was wrong. I was really wrong. Please forgive me.”
She was wrong—so wrong.
She loved the wrong man, trusted the wrong man, gave her whole heart to the wrong man.
Her forehead thudded against the ground. When she lifted it again, her face was even more ruined.
Her cheeks were swollen; her eyes puffed.
Only the stubborn fire in them hadn’t changed.
She looked, hopeless, at the necklace in Ethan’s hand.
His fingers stilled around it; a needle of pain pricked his chest.
He had just started to pass it back—
—but Lana Reed’s hand flashed, and she snatched it away.
