T.W.I.S.T.E.D F.A.T.E

Clara's POV

In the Bristol hospital, the air was filled with the scent of antiseptics that clung to me, and my heart hammered against my chest. I clutched the laboratory report. The letters spun around, but the diagnosis seared itself into my brain: cancer. I had kept it a secret from everyone, most especially from my husband, Edward Harrington. I did not want him to be alarmed. I had been talking to a doctor friend, Dr. Spencer, in the corridor when Edward's car arrived. I didn't see him, but he saw me, and the angry look he gave me, I will never forget. He simply drove away.

Just as I was about to call him, my phone rang instead. It was my uncle. "Clara, is everything all right between you and Edward?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, we're fine, I guess?" I replied, my own tone feigning lightness and flippancy as I seethed inside.

"Well, because I just overheard Edward took a woman with him to a checkup the other day," he said bluntly.

A bitter laugh escaped my mouth. "Are you considering he has a mistress?"

"Yes!"

he replied.

"Don't worry," I said, my bravado a transparent disguise. "Even if all the men in the world were unfaithful, Edward wouldn't!"

I put down my phone and dialed Edward's number. It rang and rang, each ring a blow to my heart. At last, he picked up. "I'm busy, so don't bother me if it's not urgent. That's it!" He spoke in an icily sharp voice, the blade of a knife cutting through the silence. He hung up before I could utter a word. My hand on the lab report tightened a little, my heart froze. All my expectation, all my excitement, had just disappeared.

Edward and I had been married for three years. It had started out as a whirlwind, a passion and all-consuming romance. But in recent months, his passion had turned into emotional captivity. He was always cold, always cranky. He'd accuse me of things I wasn't doing, and the last public meltdown had broken my heart. At the Thompson's gathering, he had seen me laughing with Daniel Harlow, a classmate, and openly accused me of being unfaithful. The complete embarrassment had been devastating. What had altered Edward so?

In a daze, I had turned back. A woman writhed in front of me, and a soft voice resonated in my ear. "Hey, sister." I heard the voice and saw Imogen Clarke standing beside me with an older woman.

Glaring at Imogen, my half-sister by marriage, my blood ran cold. My husband's father's illicit child, she had been resentful of me the whole time and had plotted to have Edward believe that I was cheating on him. I glared. "Don't refer to me as your sister. My mother only had a single child!" I answered coldly, a glare of pure distaste on my face.

Unfazed by my demeanor, Imogen smiled and asked gently, "Are you here to cheat on Edward again, dear sister?"

"That's none of your business," I growled, gritting my teeth.

"Isn't it time you asked me why I'm here?" Imogen smiled and continued, "I'm expecting! The baby is Edward's!"

I only then realized that Imogen's tummy was a bit more curvaceous than before. I knew she'd always had a long-term thing for Edward, doing everything she could to lure him into bed before we were married. "You're not right in the head," I sneered, the words souring on my tongue.

"You don't believe me? Why don't you look at this then?" Imogen had a medical consent form on the table, and my face turned white the minute I saw the handwriting on it, familiar and jagged all over. "Edward's signature? How is that possible?" I was stunned, my heart shattering into pieces.

"Edward and I were together on one night four months ago. He was so hyper that he did not let me sleep at all throughout the night and then, I became pregnant!" Imogen gazed at her friend with a look of satisfaction. "He does truly care for this child, you realize. Have this baby, then, resign as his wife!"

"B*tch!" My body jerked at a rage so overwhelming I could not breathe. I punched Imogen's face. She just fell to the floor and cried, "Ouch, my belly!" I was stunned. I had just punched her face, and yet fresh blood was trickling down her pants. "How did I manage to do that?" I wondered.

Imogen was taken to the emergency room by hospital personnel. I, having no bravery to leave, followed.

A couple of minutes in the emergency unit had lapsed when I heard approaching footsteps. It was Eleanor Harrington, the mother of Edward. She squinted upon seeing me. "What is it? Imogen had been well, but why has she been brought to the emergency room now?"

"It was Miss Whitmore. No, it was Mrs. Harrington, she pushed her!" said the middle-aged woman who was with Imogen earlier.

"You cheating b*tch! You are just like your mother. You can't be faithful and you're not letting others be happy either?" Eleanor slapped me on the face with immense force. She never got along with me. The slap was so powerful that my face swelled at once.

Prior to that, I had also thought Imogen was making up a story, but my mother-in-law's demeanor had only gone to make things as clear as day.

There was a sense of desperation creeping into my heart. I was so choked up I felt like I was going to faint. But at that moment, the door to the operating room slowly opened. A nurse came out and delivered the news that Imogen had miscarried.

Eleanor was extremely enraged upon hearing the news. She pounced on me, punching me and kicking me and pulling my hair.

I was battered until my eyes lost their focus, and I then tumbled into unconsciousness.

When I woke, all that I was able to see was white. I tried to sit up, but it hurt because my body ached so horribly. Nevertheless, I was able to lean on the bedside. While I was still gasping for breath, the door was opened, and a man wearing gold-rimmed glasses entered the room.

"How are you, Miss Whitmore. I am Mr. Harrington's lawyer."

"A lawyer?" I gazed at the man standing before me in shock.

"Indeed. I am Mr. Harrington's own attorney. Mr. Harrington has instructed me to negotiate with you, Miss Whitmore, about the divorce."

"A divorce? Edward is asking for a divorce?" I thought I must have dreamed he said that.

The lawyer stepped closer and gave me a document. "This is the divorce settlement agreement. Do have a look."

My hands shook. I had never fantasized in my imagination that one day Edward would give me a divorce agreement. I would not even look at it. I shifted my gaze at the attorney and declared, "Tell Edward Harrington to arrive and have him inform me personally!"

"Mr. Harrington is a busy man; he's not available!" declared the lawyer callously.

"He's busy? Not available?" I joked. How had my relationship with Edward fallen to this state? Even to not see him?

I grabbed the phone from the bedside table, dialed Edward's number, and waited with my eyes shut. To my surprise, the call wouldn't get through.

How far had Edward and I fallen? First, an affair, and then a divorce?

The attorney was still there, gazing impatiently at me. "Miss Whitmore, simply have a glance at the contract. I have no time to lose!"

The attorney's attitude was clear enough. For three years of marriage, everyone in Edward's social circle had been respectful towards me. But here, now, the attorney's attitude was cold and merciless. The fact was apparent that this was actually Edward's desire.

I held the divorce settlement in my hand and my gaze shifted to the area regarding the division of property. My eyes welled up as I read what was stated, "All property was Edward Harrington's prior to marriage and so shall be exempt from the division."

Edward had previously informed me that I was everything to him and everything that belonged to him was mine. However, within the span of just three years, our love ceased to be. Had Edward finally revealed his true nature?

He cheated behind my back and even got the mistress pregnant! So as the sinful wife, shouldn't I make way? My resentment in heart was to the extreme. I stopped reading the contract and looked at the lawyer, who was staring at me blankly. "Hand over a pen!"

The lawyer reached into his briefcase and pulled out a pen and handed it to me. After I took the pen, he stated, "Mr. Harrington has told us that you can't have any of the jewelry that he bought for you!"

I sat blankly staring ahead of me and did not react for a very long period of time. Just when the lawyer anticipated that I would reject him, I paused and slowly stated, "Okay!"

In the same motion, I seized the pen and signed my name to the divorce contract.

The lawyer took the divorce contract and read it for a second before proceeding to leave.

Outside the hospital parking lot lay a black Aston Martin. The window rolled down, revealing the good-looking, brooding face of Edward Harrington. The lawyer rushed to the vehicle and proclaimed respectfully, "Mr. Harrington, madam has signed it!"

"Did she sign it?" Edward spoke in a slow manner, focusing on the face of the lawyer with his acute stare.

Observing his confused face, the lawyer felt slightly nervous and thought that he should say something. But he could not speak a word. Edward turned his back towards the lawyer and turned his eyes away from the evening sky. After a while, he said, "You can leave!"

Three years have gone by.

The night was lovely. In Bristol, high-end cars came to the Azure Willow Hotel. A mob of reporters were waiting at the main entrance, all set with their arms - cameras.

This evening, the Parableutions had hosted a party at the hotel and had invited Bristol business moguls to attend. The journalists were aware of this and had gathered here, ready to get any news-generating information.

Around eight at night, a Maybach, one of the most luxurious cars, arrived.

"It's Mr. Whitfield! Mr. Whitfield of the Parableutions has arrived!" The journalists immediately pulled out cameras and approached him.

Oliver Whitfield was dressed in a white suit. He came out of the car with a raised eyebrow smile. Meanwhile, Phoebe Lancaster, a gorgeous supermodel, came out of the other side of the car in a strapless evening gown. Oliver led her by the hand and they posed extravagantly in front of the paparazzi.

I sat in the front passenger seat embracing a briefcase around me. I was looking at Oliver and Phoebe through the car window, wondering to myself, "What the hell? Is Oliver crazy?" It was a party, yet he required my presence as his assistant. What an agony.

Before I could even say a word in my heart, the driver reminded me politely, "Miss Whitmore, get down from the vehicle. Mr. Whitfield will be unhappy if you're late!"

I groaned. Holding the briefcase in my arms tightly, I flung open the car door with a sulky face.

Oliver, strolling hand in hand with Phoebe, had already reached the hotel entrance. I quickened my steps to catch up with him. The instant I reached the entrance, one of the reporters behind me called out, "It's Edward Harrington! Edward Harrington is here too!"

At the mention of the name, Edward Harrington, my head turned around like a reflex action. A sleek Aston Martin gently stopped in front of the main entrance of the hotel. The security personnel advanced and opened the car door with respect.

Edward stepped out of the car in a black suit. He was as lively and his presence was as commanding as ever, whether three years before or three years from then.

For a second, the guard opened the car door on the other side, and Imogen Clarke stepped out of the car slowly smiling with a smile on her lips. She was dressed in a hot red evening dress.

"Wow! Such a beautiful couple!"

"Totally! One is the secretary's daughter, and the other is a business magnate. They are perfect for one another!"

All sorts of things were being said about them individually. I scowled at the adored-by-all couple in distaste. "A cheating man and his manipulative half-sister? Naturally, they're perfect!" I assumed.

I didn't want to set eyes on this despicable pair at all. I immediately spun around to follow Oliver.

Oliver and Phoebe had already entered the lift by then. Seeing the fact that the lift was about to close, I ran as fast as possible.

At the moment when the lift was actually closing, I stretched out my hand and managed to stop the door from shutting completely. Oliver sneered at me getting into the lift. "Miss Whitmore, do you derive pleasure in frightening other people?"

"I'm sorry!" I glanced down and apologized.

Oliver released a cold snort. "Do keep up properly next time. In case you do something like this again, I'll sack you!"

"Yes, sir, I'll keep it in mind!" I replied.

Seeing that my demeanor was acceptable, Oliver could not find a reason to be upset. He simply grumbled at me and dropped me off.

The lift suddenly stopped at the 18th floor. Oliver exited the lift with his arm draped around Phoebe's waist. I followed close behind him, briefcase wrapped tightly in my arms. Oliver nodded at me when we reached the entrance of the main hall and snarled at me, "Wait for me in the lounge and stay on call. If I cannot contact you, half your monthly bonus will be lost!"

"Yes, Mr. Whitfield. I understood!" I replied.

Seeing Oliver and Phoebe having gone into the hall, I went around and went straight to the lounge and breathed a sigh of relief.

The lift on the other side of the hallway beeped as the doors opened wide, and out came Edward and Imogen. Edward's eyes were scanning the hallway as he saw me, who was opening the door to the lounge. Edward hesitated and asked himself, "Was that her?"

"No, she disappeared for three years. How could she be here? I must be dreaming!" Edward told himself.

Having noticed Edward gazing at the other end of the corridor, Imogen, who was beside him, turned around in that direction. She was amazed because there was absolutely nothing. "Edward, what are you looking at?"

"Nothing. Let's go!" Edward said, gathering himself.

I had been stuck in the waiting lounge for more than an hour, and my stomach was growling with hunger. Oliver was such a sadist. There he was, with a beautiful woman wrapped in his arms, sipping wine and an elegant buffet. But because he was my boss, I was to starve here. What an inhuman capitalist!

And as I was grumbling in my mind again, Oliver summoned me and said, "Go to the hall and have something to eat. Mind what I have said. Don't run, walk, or look around! After you have eaten, just return to the lounge and remain there waiting for me!"

"Yes, Mr. Whitfield!" I answered.

I opened the door and headed straight into the hall. The people in the hall were the classy, rich, and powerful. I just looked at them and headed straight to the buffet area.

I took a glass of juice and selected a plate of food. When I was about to seat myself to eat, a voice shouted behind me. "Bring me some food!"

The arrogant tone was somehow familiar. I turned around and noticed a woman, whose face was made up heavily, standing right in front of me. "Isn't she Imogen's best friend, Hannah Bennett?" I presumed.

Hannah was also shocked when she saw me too. Since I was wearing a working attire, Hannah instantly assumed that I was a waitress. However, the instant our eyes met, Hannah was shocked that I turned out to be Clara Whitmore!

"It's you?" exclaimed Hannah.

I ignored Hannah and kept walking out with my lunch. Hannah was stunned, but she collected herself in a split second and caught hold of me. "Are you a waiter here? Ha ha! I'm killing myself laughing!" Hannah jeered.

"Is it that funny?" I replied frostily.

"Of course, Clara. Weren't you really snooty prior to this? Tsk, tsk. And now you're just a waitress. Well, things certainly can turn around in a split second. This has to be your genuine experience, don't it? Get on with it now and bring me some grub!"

Hannah acted as if she had finally gained power over me. She never tolerated me earlier. I was beautiful, highly blessed, and chivalrous as well. I simply seemed to have it all. Since I had been rejected by Edward and ended up being an ordinary waitress, Hannah had to find a means of embarrassing me.

I was completely disgusted by the manner in which Hannah acted. I circumvented her to leave, not wishing to appear silly fighting with a bully like her.

But why would Hannah let me go? She had waited for it, anyway. "Clara, do you really dare defy me? Do you not suppose that I can have someone fire you?" Hannah tried to scare me.

"You want to dismiss me? Oh, Miss Bennett, you certainly think quite a lot of yourself!" I snapped.

"How can you insult me?" Hannah stamped her foot in anger. She was seething with rage. Before, she had not dared play around with me because I was the wife of Edward and Edward was so jealous of me. But now, things were different. Without Edward, I was just a lowly waitress. To crush me would be no different than stepping on an ant.

"I'll let the boss know straight away and have her fire you!" Hannah yelled.

"What's happening, Hannah?" A gentle voice interrupted.

"Imogen, you've just arrived. Observe this individual!" Hannah nodded in my direction, taunting.

I held Imogen's eyes firmly, staring straight into her face. Imogen was obviously shocked. "How is Clara here?" she was thinking.

Imogen was thoroughly shocked inside, but she did not show it. She put on a smile instead and said, "Hello, sister!"

I shot her a cold stare and said, "Miss, had you dialled the wrong number?"

"Dear sister, I know that you are still bitter against me, but it was not my doing. It was Edward who liked me."

Although three years had already lapsed, it was not bearable for me to reminisce about the past. I did not want my painful past to be disclosed to anyone, so I turned around and departed.

Since Imogen came to stay, Hannah had obviously grown bolder. She sprinted over to me and pushed me forcefully, and I spilled all of the juice over my self. Hannah caught some of the juice on her, so she wailed, "Hey, look what you did!"

When Hannah said that, she was radiating triumph. I was sure Hannah had indeed treated me like a waitress for the sole purpose of disgracing me so that I could be fired.

My eyes were dark with anger. If it were earlier, I would have slapped Hannah right in the face. But now, I was no longer Mrs. Harrington, who had Edward's love. Reminiscing about it, I kept the anger in my heart under control and left.

Seeing that I did not resist, Hannah glared at Imogen. She continued to grab my hair and poured a glass of red wine directly on my neck.

The cold red wine trickled down along the neck, dampening my clothes. Not knowing if it was done intentionally or not, Hannah had shoved me to Imogen, who withdrew her hand and poured another glass of wine on my face.

My eyes were burning with anguish. I had hoped to compromise and leave, but because I noticed that Hannah was stubborn, anger lodged in my heart. Hannah and Imogen stood as one. As they acted towards me, it seemed this would not be of a good result. I was not temper-less. The ploy Hannah used was the same as Imogen's. They were planning to defame me all over again. If they wanted to make me the bad guy anyway, why should I even be nice?

Since I was now furious, I took the plate of food I had in hand and spilled it on Hannah's head.

Hannah screamed. She did not expect that I would go ahead and do something like that. I had a liking for hot and spicy food, and so my plate was filled with hot and spicy food. The sauce ran down Hannah's hair and had run quickly into her eyes. The sensation was very uncomfortable. Hannah let out a scream in pain and let go of my hair at that instance.

Ignoring Hannah's outcry, I slapped Imogen across the face. Imogen was completely flabbergasted. Her face burned with rage; she never imagined that I could be so brutal. I carelessly splattered the remaining sauce on my plate onto Imogen, staining her designer high-class evening gown, which was crafted by a renowned designer.

Suffering in anguish, Imogen began screaming, even disregarding her reputation, "Come! Somebody come here!"

Clara's POV

The sound frightened the people around us, and some of them turned to find security guards running towards us. Everyone considered me a waitress because of my casual clothing. Such elitist guards they were; they did not even care to ask what had happened and, without a second thought, came and pushed me out of the hall.

Hannah had gotten hot sauce in her eyes and was therefore rushed to the hospital. Imogen's designer gown was covered in sauce, and there was a burning palm print on her cheek. Edward also rushed in after hearing the news. He looked a bit surprised to see Imogen in such a condition. "What's going on?" he asked.

In fact, Imogen was probably afraid Edward would find out I was back but now it was too late to hide it from him. She burst into tears and said, "Edward, I met Miss Whitmore. She was a waitress here. I don't know what she was doing, but she spilled juice on us on purpose. Hannah couldn't handle it and tried to yell at her, but she freaked out and poured the food on Hannah. Then she slapped me."

Edward looked stunned. He looked around, but didn't see me. Imogen cried some more crocodile tears and continued, "Now, I'm just a little bit dirty and got slapped by her, but Hannah got spicy sauce in her eyes! Well, technically, Miss Whitmore was attempting to throw it at me, but Hannah caught the blast!"

He looked at her crying face, his own face impassive. He patted Imogen as she wiped away her tears and asked in a cold voice, "Where is she?"

"She was pulled away by the security guards," said Imogen.

"Let us go and see," said Edward as he escorted Imogen out of the hall.

I was taken to a room adjacent to the hall by the security guards. One of the guards was calling the police while some of the guards were scolding me. I had calmed down when I was brought here. I was sitting on the sofa with my head down, my whole body soaked in wine.

I knew I should have controlled my temper, but I couldn't can't. Not when they were teasing me. Now that this had happened, Oliver would not forgive me for certain. That playboy had a terrible temper, especially where I was involved.

I was only working for Oliver as his assistant since Rupert Sinclair had compelled him to give me the job. Since Oliver had been forced to take me, he'd never been fond of me and always made things difficult. Now that I had caused such a commotion, he was surely going to fire me.

Just as I was getting nervous, the door was flung open and the room was filled with a chill, familiar presence. I looked up, and my eyes met an intense gaze.

Three years before, Edward had coldly requested his lawyer, Mr. Fletcher, to bring him a divorce paper, and he made me sign it. I left this dreary place immediately afterward.

I never thought I would have to see Edward again in these past three years. I had planned to take a diversion in case we met again. But there he was, on my very first day in Bristol.

I was in such a demeaning state, while he was standing tall, his presence exuding an aura of power. He looked down at me, one hand resting on Imogen's waist. Had he come to pass judgment on me? I wondered.

Having my emotions under control, I detachedly drew back my eyes.

We were strangers now. If he were just a stranger, what was there for me to mourn?

Seeing that I had frostily withdrawn my gaze, Edward's eyes narrowed. He entered the room with Imogen and said, "Apologize." His voice was cold enough to send shivers down my spine.

I compressed my lips and said nothing. He wants me to apologize to his mistress? When I have done nothing wrong? In his dreams.

As I remained silent, Edward's face clouded. "Clara Whitmore, didn't you hear me? I want you to apologize."

"Apologize? Why? Mr. Harrington, do you think you're a king here?" I derisively laughed.

"It doesn't matter whether I'm a king or not. What does is the fact that you knowingly hurt people. Hannah has been rushed to the hospital. You know what the consequences are." he replied.

His motive to threaten me was evident. I knew he was doing all this not for Hannah but for Imogen. How could I possibly apologize? I weakly smiled and told him, "Mr. Harrington, I know you are a very influential man. Do as you please. I'll wait. For the apology, wait for the next life."

Noticing my disinterested face and my icy tone, Edward's heart felt very uncomfortable, as if something was stuck in it.

"Clara Whitmore, if you're such a stubborn and foolish girl, then don't blame me!" Edward gazed at me icily and turned to face the security guard, asking, "Have you called the police?"

"Yes, sir!" answered the security guard respectfully.

"Then let the police handle this in a fair way! I hope you can be so persistent when you reach the police station!"

Looking at his indifferent face and hearing his ruthless words, I cast my eyes down to hide the grief in them.

Edward Harrington. What was his heart made of? Five years of love and three years of marriage. I did nothing to him that I should be sorry for. Why was he so cruel to me?

Three years ago, he had divorced me without leaving anything to me. Now, after meeting for the first time in three years, he wanted to send me to the police station regardless of what actually happened.

Men were the most ruthless creatures on earth, and Edward Harrington was the best of them all.

Was I blind? How could I have fallen for such a cold-blooded and cruel man?

I declined to apologize and was later taken to the police station by the police.

I was questioned by the police in accordance with the protocol. Halfway through the questioning, my phone rang. It was Oliver. I answered and heard his frustrated and annoyed voice. "Clara Whitmore, where on earth did you go? Didn't I tell you to wait for me in the lounge?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Whitfield!" I continued to apologize, "Something happened and I'm at the police station now."

"What? The police station? Why on earth would you go to the police station?"

"I. this." I wasn't sure how to put it. I couldn't exactly say that I met the half-sister and mistress who ruined my marriage, I lost my mind, got into a fight, and was taken to the police station by my ex-husband, could I?

Noticing my hesitation, Oliver was frustrated. "If you would rather stay in the police station, then stay. I don't want you anymore. I'll call and tell Rupert Sinclair right now!"

There was a dial tone; Oliver had hung up on me. Had I brought upon myself the disaster of jail and termination? My heart sank.

Seeing my pale face, the police took pity on me and gently reminded me, "Young lady, how did you end up offending these individuals? One is Mr. Black's cherished daughter, and the other is Edward Harrington, a financial tycoon. Why on earth did you provoke them? Be pragmatic, apologize and be done with it. By the way, I have Mr. Harrington's phone number. Why don't you call him and say something nice?"

I smiled weakly and said, "Thank you, sir. Now I've lost my job and have nowhere to go. At least I'll get to relax while being incarcerated here, still having something to eat and somewhere to live. So, don't need to apologize to them."

As I would not apologize, the police left reluctantly. I was aware that Edward would not forgive me. As I was here now, I simply had to sit back to wait and see what he could do. Was Edward more powerful than the law? I did not think so.

As I was thinking, I heard heavy footsteps at the door. Soon, the door was thrust open, and Oliver was in the doorway, scowling at me. "Clara Whitmore, how dare you!"

"Mr. Whitfield." I replied in a low voice.

"I've never met an assistant like you, who couldn't help with anything and only knew how to cause trouble!" Oliver scolded me in a huff. But when he caught sight of my deplorable state, he shut his mouth.

"What's wrong? How the f*ck did you get like this?" Oliver exclaimed.

"Nothing. I was just being poured all over with wine by someone."

"Who did that?" Oliver asked, clenching his teeth.

"Somebody I didn't know!" I lied.