CHAPTER 191: HER JUSTICE, MY VENGEANCE [V]

The first slap cracked across Clara’s cheek, snapping her head to the side.

The second left a flush of red spreading across her pale skin.

The third slap brought a choked sob from her, a sound of pure shock and pain. She cradled her face, tears finally breaking free and tracking clean paths through her expensive foundation as jo stepped back.

"You should be grateful," I said, my tone colder than the marble beneath us, "that I don’t like touching women."

Her sobs were thin, pathetic things, swallowed by the cavernous silence of the penthouse. She looked at me, her face a mess of tears and red fingerprints, a portrait of shattered delusion. "But I did it for you," she whispered, the words trembling. "I did it because I love you, Adrien. I just wanted them to... show you."

The silence that followed was absolute. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. I just watched the lie crumble on her lips. Cameron stood impassively by the door, a silent statue of judgment.

"Show me what, Clara?" My voice was unnervingly calm, stripped of all emotion. Honestly, I am starting to have a resounding headache with her performance.

The calmness seemed to unnerve her more than rage would have. A frantic energy seized her, and she finally surged to her feet, her hands twisting in front of her.

"Show you that she wasn’t good enough for you!" she cried, her voice cracking. "You were supposed to be grooming me to take over my father’s Euvaropen division! We had a plan! Our families, our future! And then she came along. This... this nobody with paint under her fingernails, and you’ve started forgetting who you are. Adrien. Forgetting us."

Lord have mercy. This is really draining me out...

Each word that came from her mouth was a drop of poison, fueled by a jealousy so profound it had become its own twisted reality.

"I just wanted to remind you," she went on, her eyes gleaming as tears fell like rain on her face. "I wanted them to take her, to show you that your world is too violent for someone so soft. That she would break. I thought if you saw her broken, you would realize she didn’t belong. You would come back to me."

Her voice cracked, but she pushed on like she couldn’t stop herself. "Why are you treating me like a monster? I’m sorry," she whispered between hiccupped breaths. "I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I was just so lost, so desperate..."

"Stop crying," I said. "It’s starting to irritate me."

Her breath hitched, the sobs catching in her throat as she tried to obey. The effort made her look pathetic, a spoiled child being denied a toy. It only solidified the cold knot of disgust in my stomach.

"Our childhood is the only reason you’re still breathing," I said, my voice flat and devoid of all warmth. The shared memories she was trying to use as a shield were nothing but ash to me now. "It’s the only reason Jo is just standing there and I’m not letting Cameron take you to a place far worse than were we are coming from."

"Please... don’t say that. We’ve known each other our whole lives. I’m your friend."

"My friend?" The words came out as a sneer. "My friends don’t drug and kidnap the woman I love. My friends don’t hire scum to violate her for a fucking video." I paused. "That friendship ended the moment you made that call. The mentorship is over. Our families’ business alliance is over. Everything is over."

"You don’t mean that," she whispered, shaking her head. "Remember when we were twelve? When my father found out I’d crashed his car? You took the blame. You always protected me."

The memory was a ghost, thin and unwelcome. "I protected a girl," I said, my voice cutting through her desperate plea. "Not this. I don’t know what this is."

I walked to the window, staring out at the city below. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the concrete and glass. The world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for the next Chapter to unfold.

"Your father is on a flight from Quevena. He lands in four hours. Cameron has already forwarded him a summary of your... project. Including the unedited statements from the two men we apprehended and a recording of this little conversation."

I glanced back at her. The color had drained completely from her face, leaving her a ghastly shade of grey. "You wanted a video, Clara. Now you have one."

"You’ll be on that plane back with him. You will explain, to your father, why his only daughter is a criminal who traffics women to make a point. You will never work in this city again. You will never work in any city where I have interests—which, in case you’ve forgotten, is almost all of them."

I let that hang for a second, watching the realization hollow her out.

"I’ve already arranged for you to rot under the director of your father’s Euvaropen branch. He’ll keep you in his sight and under his thumb, far from this city, far from me. That is your future"

I turned back to the door. Cameron was already holding it open.

"Please," she whispered, a final, ragged plea. "Adrien, don’t."

"The men you hired broke her physically. But I can fix those. You tried to break her soul. For that, I will make sure you spend the rest of your life in a prison of your own making. Alone. With nothing but the memory of what you threw away."

"Fine," she whispered, the word thin and brittle, stripped of all its usual defiant weight.

Then, softly—

"But please... just one thing. Let me see your mother before I leave. Just one last time. I need to say goodbye."

"No."

Her mouth trembled. Jo opened the door. I turned to leave. That’s when she lurched forward, grabbing Cameron’s arm.

"Big bro... please. Beg him for me."

Cameron froze, visibly thrown. So was I. The nickname, the desperate appeal, felt like a sudden, jarring chord in a silence I thought was already perfectly pitched.

"What?" he asked, half turning. His voice was rough, unaccustomed to being put on the spot like this, especially by her.

She was on her feet now, her hands twisting in front of her like a child caught in a lie, but desperate to avoid punishment. "You always told me to call you that," she said, her voice thin, a reedy whisper. "Please—ask him. Just this once."

Her eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, darted from Cameron to me, a last, pathetic gamble.

Cam’s expression tightened. "Sorry," he said finally. "You know how he is when his mind’s set."

Clara’s shoulders slumped in defeat as she realized the futility of her plea. The desperation in her eyes faded, replaced by a cold emptiness that chilled me to the bone. I couldn’t help but wonder how many times she had manipulated people like this, using her charm and connections to get what she wanted.

I shot Cam a look, and whatever he saw in my face made him hurry to my side, almost falling into step like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

The doors slid shut, and Clara’s voice didn’t follow.