Chapter 3

Clara stumbled into the Spencer penthouse, her limbs heavy, her mind a fog of exhaustion and humiliation. She had fled the paparazzi and taken a cab back to the only place she could think of to collect the last of her belongings before Kane locked her out for good.

She was leaning against the kitchen island, the cloying scent of gardenias thick in the air. Corinne was sitting at the breakfast bar, casually scrolling through Clara's phone.

"You have a disgusting drunk-puking face, you know that?" Corinne said without looking up.

Clara shot up, snatching the phone from her hand. "How did you get this?"

"My driver found it on the street and brought it in with your bag," Corinne said, standing and stretching like a cat. She walked to a vanity table littered with expensive perfumes. "And since you're here to pack, let's make it quick. Kane had all your things thrown out of the master bedroom. You have nowhere else to be." She picked up a crystal bottle and spritzed the air. "He's staying here with me tonight. He prefers my scent."

The smell of the perfume, mixed with Corinne's words, made Clara's stomach turn. It was a sickness that went deeper than her body; it was in her soul.

Corinne's eyes glinted with malice. She opened a jewelry box and pulled out a delicate diamond necklace. The one Kane had given Clara on their first anniversary. Corinne clasped it around her own neck, admiring her reflection in the mirror.

"He tells me the most wonderful things in bed," she purred, turning to face Clara. "He says I'm perfect. Everything he's ever wanted. Everything you're not."

That was it. The final thread of Clara's control snapped. The humiliation, the pain, the rage that had been simmering for hours finally boiled over.

She launched herself forward. Her hand flew up, and the sound of her palm connecting with Corinne's cheek cracked through the quiet room like a gunshot.

The force of the blow sent Corinne staggering back a step. She clutched her face, her eyes wide. But beneath the shock, Clara saw a flicker of something else. Triumph.

At that exact moment, the bedroom door was thrown open.

Kane stood in the doorway, his face a thunderous mask of fury. He had clearly just gotten out of the shower; he was wearing a black bathrobe, his hair still damp.

His eyes took in the scene: Corinne, clutching her reddening cheek, and Clara, standing over her with her hand still raised.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't wait for an explanation. He strode across the room in three long steps and cornered Clara against the wall, his hands slamming against the wallpaper on either side of her head, caging her in. His face was inches from hers, his breath hot with rage.

She flinched, stumbling backward in panic. Her hip struck the sharp corner of a bedside table, and a searing pain shot through her back.

Kane ignored her cry of pain. He turned to Corinne, cupping her face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

He turned his head, and the look he gave Clara was one of pure loathing, as if she were a piece of vermin he'd found in his home.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snarled.

"She was provoking me!" Clara gasped, clutching her back. "She was saying horrible things, wearing my-"

Her words were cut off by a soft sob. Corinne buried her face in Kane's chest, her shoulders shaking. "I just wanted to say goodbye properly, Kane," she whimpered. "I didn't want you to be in the middle of this. I told her you were a good man."

It was a masterful performance. Kane's anger at Clara intensified, his jaw tightening. He leaned in close, his voice a low, deadly whisper that sent a chill down her spine. "You listen to me. If you ever, ever touch her again, I will make sure you disappear from this city. Do you understand me?"

Clara stared into his eyes and saw a complete stranger. The man she had loved was gone, replaced by this monster. The last, stubborn ember of hope she had been clinging to finally died, leaving nothing but cold, hard ash.

She shoved his arm away.

Using the wall for support, she pushed herself to her feet and limped toward the door.

Kane didn't try to stop her. He just stood there, his arms wrapped protectively around Corinne, watching her go.