The Jilted Heiress And Her Lethal Comeback

Clara dropped the blinds.

"Excuse me," she said to Helen. She grabbed a small duffel bag of essentials and headed for the door.

Helen reached out a trembling hand, but the weight of the pearl earring stopped her. She let her arm fall and stepped aside.

Clara walked down the winding staircase. Her heels clicked sharply against the wood, drawing every eye in the grand foyer.

Preston was holding Bria's hands, whispering frantically. When he heard the footsteps, his face twisted into a sneer. He glared up at the stairs.

Clara stopped on the bottom step. She looked down at the crowd. Her eyes paused for a fraction of a second on the man sitting in the single armchair.

He wore a flawlessly tailored dark suit. His long legs were crossed. He was rolling a silver lighter between his fingers. Felix Larsen. The apex predator of Wall Street, and the ruthless primary investor currently holding Preston's company by the throat.

Preston puffed out his chest.

"I always loved Bria," Preston announced loudly, making sure everyone heard. "I only tolerated you because of the family arrangement."

Bria leaned into Preston's chest. She wore the smug, victorious smile of a woman who had won the ultimate prize.

Eleanor nodded in approval from her seat.

The maids lingered in the hallways. A few pulled out their phones, waiting for Clara to break down and cry.

Clara tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She looked at Preston and Bria like they were a pair of brain-damaged animals.

"Have a long, miserable life together," Clara said. "Keep each other off the market."

The absolute lack of care in her voice turned Preston's grand speech into a pathetic joke.

Preston's face flushed with rage. "You're nothing without me! You're putting on an act!"

Clara let out a sharp laugh. "Am I? Did you forget who stayed up for three days writing the code that saved your bankrupt tech company?"

Preston's face went chalk white. He panicked. His eyes darted nervously toward Felix, terrified this crucial backer would find out he was a fraud.

Felix's fingers stopped moving.

Click.

The metal lid of the lighter snapped shut. The tiny sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. Everyone froze.

Felix slowly lifted his head. His dark, bottomless eyes bypassed everyone and locked directly onto Clara.

He noticed the shift. The girl who used to stare at her shoes was radiating a sharp, lethal energy.

Clara didn't look away. She met Felix's stare head-on. The air between them crackled with an invisible tension.

Felix leaned forward. His voice was a low, magnetic rumble. "You wrote his code?"

Preston trembled violently. He opened his mouth to lie, but Felix shot him a look so cold it pinned him to the floor.

Clara didn't answer Felix directly. She gave a slight shrug.

"Check his backend logic. You'll figure it out."

She turned away.

A heavy, dark amusement flared in Felix's eyes. It was the look of a hunter spotting a rare prey. Bria saw that look. Her stomach twisted with violent jealousy.

"Mr. Larsen," Bria interrupted, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "I had the staff prepare afternoon tea for you."

Felix didn't even look at her. He stood up. His massive frame dominated the room.

He kept his eyes on Clara's back. He raised a hand and gave a subtle, sharp hand signal to his assistant, Alex.

Clara felt the heavy stare burning into her spine, but she didn't stop. She walked down the hallway toward the rear conservatory to get some air.

Bria's eyes darkened with pure malice. She slipped her hand out of Preston's grip and quietly followed Clara down the hall.