The CEO Wants Me- Heiress Has Risen Again

(Claire Harrington's POV)

In The Sterling Club manager's office, the woman—a sharp, seasoned club executive—scanned Claire over. A former heiress turned waitress would create some star power, a story which would charm the powerful media elite.

"Ms. Harrington, have you decided?"

If I hadn't, I wouldn't be here now." Claire smiled, the composure of a media mogul's daughter not breaking.

The manager slapped down a document on the desk, full of punitive, humiliating conditions.

"What's the point of these clauses?" Claire demanded, frowning over the fine print on customer service obligations.

The manager glared at her openly in contempt. "Ms. Harrington, you're in debt for millions, aren't you? Waitressing minimum wage isn't enough. You'll get by on the commissions outlined here. Are you sure still?"

Claire met the manager's eyes, her gaze fierce. "I've already made my position known. I will accept the terms."

The manager ground her teeth. If Claire weren't so precious.

"Excellent. The lowest basic salary. The rest will be based on Clindy's abilities alone!"

Claire was given a staff dormitory room. Within ten minutes, all the staff had heard the once-esteemed Ms. Harrington was their lowest-paid colleague.

"Why so arrogant? Her business collapsed, and Adrian Blackwood jilted her!" the gossiping waitresses mocked in the public changing room.

Claire, whom deed now called Clindy, ignored them, focused on her own self-examination.

(Adrian Blackwood's POV)

The next day, Adrian walked into his office. "Where is Claire? Has she returned to Ryan's?"

Miles toyed with a sheet of paper. "Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Harrington hasn't returned… but we've found her."

"Where?" Adrian sat, his eyes furrowed.

"She… she's at The Sterling Club. She starts officially as a waitress tonight.".

Adrian crumpled up the paper in his fist. His eyes glowed like embers. "A waitress?"

Miles nodded, sweating. "Yeah. I believe she's doing it to pay off her creditors."

"Sure." Adrian's sneer was glacial. She was doing it to provoke him. Everyone in the media who went to that club was aware she was his ex-wife. She was humiliating him nightly.

"Get a full report on her outstanding debt. Pay every single creditor in full."

Miles was appalled but obediently complied and left the office.

Felicity, waiting for Adrian, appeared in the corner of the room, her face twisted by bitter jealousy.

"Claire! You are nothing but a nagging curse!"

(Claire Harrington's POV)

Night fell. The Sterling Club glowed like a beacon of light and vice.

"Time's up, Clindy," the manager told her. "Ready?" Luna, a coworker in a sparkling dress, measured Claire from head to toe.

Her nickname at the club was Clindy—the spelling reversal of Cinderella. She fell from the throne as the actual Cinderella was proclaimed a princess.

Claire stood up straight, applied a thin layer of lipstick, and rolled out.

As she entered the club, talk stopped. People gawked at her small face and regal bearing.

"Mr. Sutton (Mr. Wanda), when did she start? You've got to bring her over and introduce her to us!" A balding middle-aged press fixer was aghast.

"Harold, this is Clindy. Come on over, lucky one." The club manager beckoned.

Claire's spine stiffened. She grabbed a glass of wine and wheeled herself towards the man. Before she could ready her greeting, a sharp voice cut through the noise.

"Claire? What are you doing here?"

Felicity emerged behind her in designer attire surrounded by a few stylishly dressed friends. Beside them stood Dalwin Villson, one of Adrian's tightest friends.

Dalwin scowled, glancing at Claire's simple, regulation sling dress. "Claire, are you. working here?" His voice, although guarded, stabbed her.

"Mr. Villson, I am divorced. My former husband does not need a GPS tracker on my location."

Felicity intervened before Dalwin could get a word out. "Claire, you can't do that. I'll lend you the money you need.

"Miss Monroe, why not? You offered to recommend that I accept this very job, didn't you?" Claire's smile was icy.

Felicity's face flushed.

"Well, since Ms. Harrington is out in the shop, let's order!" Felicity's companions chimed in, venom dripping from their voices.

"First come, first served. Mr. Lawson, I'll have her first!" Harold Sutton commanded, his face greasy with excitement.

"We can split up her services," another man suggested, a wide, coarse look crossing his face.

Claire understood at once. They weren't only degrading her, they were commodifying her.

"Do you people all have families? Don't you know the kind of scandal this will create?" Dalwin choked, looking at Claire with contempt. "You are truly disappointing Adrian." Dalwin turned and walked away.

Felicity moved nearer, no longer attempting to conceal herself. "Isn't it wonderful? Double the commission for half the work. Think carefully, Claire. You can't possibly decline. The customer is God, aren't they?"

Harold Sutton came forward to take Claire's arm. "Come on, Clindy!"

Felicity stopped him with a grasp on his arm, eyes narrowed in calculating expression. "Wait, Harold. Clindy owes us all a drink first."

Claire slowly stood from her wheelchair. She staggered, but her progress towards Harold Sutton was resolute.

"Mr. Sutton, a toast to you."

She raised the glass, clinked it against his, and then, in ghastly haste, poured the entire glass of golden champagne all over Felicity's head.

"God!" Felicity shrieked, flooded in wine.

Claire set down the empty glass, her smile faint but triumphant. "Miss Monroe, I thank you again for the job recommendation."

Felicity lost all composure, her face twisted with hatred. She grabbed a nearby wine bottle and lunged. “Claire! I’ll kill you!”

Claire dodged, picking up the nearest heavy object—an antique inkwell—and throwing it. Felicity raised her hand to block, but in the next second, the glass bottle in Felicity’s own hand, which she was swinging wildly, hit her face.

Felicity cried out, collapsing into a heap of shattered glass and blood.

The atmosphere plunged into pandemonium. Shoppers fled. Someone phoned the police and an ambulance.

"Her injured my friend! I don't know if she will live!" shouted Felicity's friend, pointing at Claire.

A police officer frowned and approached Claire, handcuffs held out. "Miss, you must come with us."

Claire frowned. The police arrived too early. She glanced over at Felicity, who was bandaging the bleeding place on her head but briefly opened her eyes to give Claire an otherworldly, triumphant grin.

Claire realized that she had walked right into another, a more malign trap. Cold metal snapped onto her wrist.

(Adrian Blackwood's POV)

After a draining board meeting, Adrian rubbed his eyes wearily in the back of his car.

Miles's phone rang. "Hello? What? Okay, I understand… Yes, I'll call Mr. Blackwood immediately."

Adrian woke up. "What happened now?"

Miles was terrified. "Mr. Blackwood, it's… it's about Ms. Harrington.".