The crystal chandelier clinked softly against the ceiling high above the ballroom. I stood on the white marble floor in my black slit dress, pressing the cell phone tightly to my ear. All around me, wealthy guests in tuxedos and silk gowns laughed and sipped expensive champagne. They had no idea what was about to happen in this room.
Clara: Yes, I'm standing right in front of him.
Marcus: Is everything in place for the board meeting tomorrow?
Clara: Everything is ready. He thinks he won the entire estate, but he has no idea I hold the primary deed.
I felt a sudden rush of cold air behind me before I could even lower my phone. A tall man in a tailored tuxedo stepped directly into my personal space, blocking my view of the grand staircase. It was Julian, my ex-fiancé, looking down at me with the same smug smile he used when he took my father's business.
Julian: Still pretending you can ruin me?
He reached out his hand and lifted my chin, his fingers pressing into my jaw. I could feel the sharp, raised facial scars along my cheek—the ones I got three years ago during the car crash he caused and blamed on me. His touch sent a cold shock of pure rage through my entire body.
Clara: Take your hands off me, Julian.
Julian: You shouldn't have come here tonight, Clara. Look at you. You look like a ghost trying to play dress-up in high society.
Clara: I belong in this room a lot more than you do.
Julian: You don't have a single dollar left to your name. Your father died in debt, and your family's trust fund belongs to me now.
Clara: You lied to the probate court, Julian. You forged my father's signature on the inheritance papers while I was lying in the hospital emergency room.
Julian: Prove it. No judge in this city will take the word of a bitter, scarred woman over a billionaire CEO.
He leaned in closer, his hot breath smelling of scotch as he whispered in my ear.
Julian: If you leave right now, I won't have security throw you out on the street like trash.
My hand moved faster than he could react. The sharp slap echoed across the high ceiling, cutting through the music and stopping the surrounding crowd dead in their tracks.