Claire’s POV

On the eve of Vanderbilt Corporation’s fifth anniversary, a grand gala was held at the Grand Liora Hotel’s ballroom. Annual bonuses were handed out in sleek white envelopes, accompanied by luxurious gifts as a token of appreciation for the employees' loyalty. The room was bursting with applause, laughter, and the dazzling glow of crystal chandeliers.

I stood at the very back of the crowd, silent behind the cheerful employees who cheered each time their names were called.

On stage, Avery—the CEO’s personal assistant—handed out envelopes to each employee with a wide smile and a friendly tone.

“Claire?” Her voice called me out. But her smile vanished in an instant, replaced by a flat, almost cruel expression.

I stepped forward slowly. She handed me an envelope—much thinner than the others.

My hand reached for it. I opened it carefully.

And in a blink, my world collapsed.

A termination letter.

“Is this a mistake?” I whispered, barely audible, my voice trembling as I stared at Avery in disbelief.

She looked at me coldly. A mocking smirk curled at the corner of her lips.

“This company doesn’t need filthy women like you.”

I turned, glancing around. The once-familiar faces were now filled with disgust, staring at me as if I carried some disease. Whispers spread through the crowd, echoing over the music that now sounded painfully off-key.

Then came the sound of polished shoes tapping against marble floors—measured, echoing.

Grant.

My husband.

The CEO of Vanderbilt Corp.

The same man who used to kiss my forehead every morning and say I was his luck. Now, he stood at the edge of the stage… frozen, unreadable.

“Grant…” I tried to reach him, touching the sleeve of his suit. But he pulled back—rejecting me.

“What’s going on? Why?” I asked, my voice almost inaudible.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out a brown envelope and threw it at me.

Photos spilled out, fluttering to the ground like a storm of curses. One by one, they revealed their secrets.

Gasps spread around me.

There I was—in each photo. Holding luxury-brand shopping bags, hugging an older man. In one picture, I kissed him on the cheek. In another, we were walking hand-in-hand through the mall, too familiar… too intimate.

The man’s face was blurred. But mine was crystal clear.

“Grant…” I choked out. “It’s not what you think.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “I gave you everything, Claire. And this is how you repay me?” His voice rose. “You think I’d keep a whore in my company?”

I shook my head weakly. “Don’t call me that…”

His eyes burned with contempt. “I can’t risk this company’s name just because you’re my wife—or a so-called founding partner.”

That hurt more than anything. Because I was a founding partner. I had brought in the first investor, assembled the core team, and even contributed part of my own savings to keep the company afloat during a near-bankruptcy two years ago.

And now?

All erased. All discarded.

And it wasn’t over yet.

A woman from my department cried out, “She was supposed to be our role model! Turns out, she climbed to the top using filth!”

It stabbed me like a blade. I had begged management on my knees to protect their jobs. I had bled for them.

I straightened my spine. My voice quivered. “It’s not what it looks like. That man is a major client—he treats me like his own daughter.”

Avery chuckled beside me. Sweet, yet venomous. “Really? Is that how you make them happy? By satisfying them in bed, Mrs. Claire?”

My fists clenched. But I held back. I turned to Grant. Our eyes met. I still had hope.

“Grant…” I whispered. “You believe me, don’t you?”

His gaze was one I’d never seen before. Cold. Lifeless.

“Funny,” he said softly. “You really think everyone here is stupid enough to believe your pathetic excuse?”

Before I could respond, he played his final card.

A video.

He held his phone up and played the clip—casting it across the big screen for everyone to see.

In the footage, I was being carried into a hotel room by a man.

Once again, only my face—smiling playfully—was clearly visible. The man’s face remained out of frame.

I let out a weak chuckle. A misunderstanding, clearly. The older man was my father. The man in the video—my uncle.

It happened just a few days ago. I had twisted my ankle from wearing heels too high. I was about to call Grant for help, but my uncle—impatient as always—carried me in without a second thought.

But Avery struck first, crushing my truth before I could voice it.

“If the first man treated you like his daughter…” she smirked, “what’s the story this time? Is this one your uncle too? Or maybe your little brother?”

“Give us a real explanation for this crystal-clear video, Claire,” Grant added coldly.

I looked at him. My body trembled. My voice wouldn’t come.

“Whore!”

“Slut!”

“Get out before you taint the rest of us!”

Screams—spat from people I once protected—rained down on me.

A bottle struck my head. Blood trickled down my temple, staining my evening gown.

I looked at Grant.

He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. Just stared—as if I were a stranger.

And then, I saw it.

Avery was watching him.

Grant was holding her hand. Tightly.

Claire’s POV

I didn’t know who pulled me out of the ballroom that night.

The world had gone dark when I opened my eyes in the private suite of Castel Valleria—a hidden place known only to the elite... and parts of the underworld.

The scent of cognac and expensive leather greeted me. I didn’t need my vision to fully return to know who was standing there.

“Uncle,” I whispered hoarsely.

Uncle Enzo D’Amore stood in silence by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, gazing out at the glittering city skyline. He looked exactly the same as the last time I saw him—commanding, sharp, and a man who never wasted words.

“You were never meant to run this far from your fate, Clairina.”

It was the first time in five years someone had called me by that name again.

“I just… I just wanted to live my own life,” I murmured, barely audible.

He turned, finally approaching me. “Unfortunately, the world never forgets your bloodline. And now, our enemies have caught your scent. Those photos and videos weren’t just meant to humiliate you... they were a trap. They want to strike at us—through you.”

My heart dropped.

“So it was all a setup. To lure the D’Amore out.”

Uncle Enzo gave a grim nod. “You’re not just an heir, Claire. You’re a symbol. And you’ve spent too long living in the shadow of a man who was never worthy to touch you.”

“Grant never knew who I really was,” I murmured, my hands curling into fists. “I promised, the last day I saw you—I would tell him. That night. I had everything ready…”

Uncle Enzo came closer. His face was stone, but his eyes held a flicker of softness.

“But he destroyed you before you could.”

---

I knew Grant had changed. I knew he had grown distant. But I thought it was just work pressure.

I didn’t know he had been secretly harboring suspicions.

I didn’t know the very hands that held up his dreams—would be the hands he severed the moment he felt tall enough to stand alone.

He still let me manage critical meetings. Still leaned on the investor network that only responded to the name I buried from him—my true name.

And now that the company stood strong on his shoulders, he shoved me off the cliff.

---

The next morning, the company’s grand anniversary celebration continued. I showed up.

Not to defend myself.

But to speak the truth.

All eyes turned to me. Including Grant’s, standing tall on the stage with Avery by his side.

“I know you’ve all seen the video,” Grant said, voice devoid of warmth. “Today, to protect our global reputation, a decision must be made.”

I met his eyes, then stepped forward. “I have something to say.”

All eyes followed me. But Grant didn’t look surprised.

As if he knew I’d come.

As if he’d already set the stage for my fall.

“The older man in those photos…” My voice cracked. “…he’s my father. And the man in that video—he’s my uncle.”

“Oh, how convenient,” Grant scoffed. “A hidden family now? Everyone knows you’re an orphan, Claire.”

I held my breath. I wanted to explain, but I knew no one would believe me.

They wouldn’t understand that what I’d hidden wasn’t shame… but a legacy dangerous enough to destroy anyone who knew the truth.

I didn’t want power, or bloodshed, or weapons.

I just wanted a peaceful life—with a simple man I thought would protect me.

My family had warned me over and over.

That Grant was never worthy of me.

My mother cried, begging me to come back.

Uncle Enzo threatened to drag me out by force.

But I chose Grant.

An ordinary man, with extraordinary dreams.

A man who once looked at me like I was his whole world.

A man who once said he would die to protect me.

I believed in him.

So I stripped myself of everything—my throne, my power, my name.

I wanted him to feel equal beside me.

To never feel small in my shadow.

But today… he looked at me like dirt beneath his shoes.

Like I wasn’t even worthy of being human.

“Grant…” My voice trembled. “I’m telling the truth.”

“Enough, Claire,” he cut me off coldly.

“From this moment on, you are nothing.

Not to this company.

Not to me.”

He pulled out a black folder from inside his suit and threw it at my feet.

Divorce papers.

That single document shattered five years of my life.

Five years of kneeling beside him just to be seen as his equal.

I clenched the papers tightly.

“Grant… one day, you’ll regret this.”

Avery let out a mocking laugh. “Oh please. Who does she think she is?”

Grant looked down at me, lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“The only thing I regret… is ever trusting a woman like you.”

Then Avery stepped forward, locking arms with him.

“Starting today, I will stand beside the CEO as his official partner,” she declared.

“This company will rise to international heights—with someone who knows how to fight from nothing.

Not someone who climbed using filthy connections.”

Applause erupted. Cheers broke out across the hall—each clap a slap across my face.

Grant and Avery raised their hands in victory.

Their smiles were blinding.

Behind them, the screen lit up with the company’s new slogan:

“Reaching Global Heights.”

I created that slogan.I wrote the proposal. I laid the foundation.

But now…

No one remembered me.

Claire’s POV

The traitor stood before me—clear as day.

The man I fought so hard for didn’t even look my way.

There he was, with his mistress, parading around like some royal couple adored by the crowd.

My fists clenched tight, but my lips stayed sealed. My chest thundered with one unwavering resolve:

The blood of a D’Amore never lets betrayal go unpunished.

Grant thought he had gotten rid of me.

He hadn’t seen who I truly was.

Cheers still echoed behind me as I walked down the hotel corridor.

The divorce papers were crushed in my hand. The world might be crumbling before my eyes, but I refused to let a single tear fall—not until I’d fully walked out of this nightmare.

But then, my steps were blocked.

“Claire.”

Paul, Grant’s personal assistant, stood in my way.

He didn’t even call me Mrs. anymore.

In his hand was another folder—thicker than the last.

His expression held not a shred of pity.

“You need to sign this before you leave.”

I glanced at the folder. “What now?”

“A legal agreement. You waive all rights to any shared assets. No compensation. No personal belongings are to be taken. Even the gown you’re wearing tonight isn’t yours. Including the wedding ring.”

“How charming,” I said flatly. “So now I’m just a trespasser in my own life?”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Paul hissed. “We also have a non-compete clause ready. To prevent you from abusing the connections you gained during your time with Mr. Grant.”

I let out a bitter laugh.

Paul.

I was the one who had chosen him to be Grant’s assistant. He came from nothing. I had trusted him completely—to stand by Grant’s side.

He used to call me Fairy Godmother, because I never judged anyone by status.

But now? Everything I taught him—he’d thrown it away.

My family was right.

Everyone gets a chance. But not everyone survives it.

“The connections I built?” I narrowed my eyes.

“I’m the one who brought them in—with the name I kept hidden.”

A laugh rang out behind me.

“You should be grateful. At least you’re being let go without a lawsuit.”

Avery appeared with a smile as sharp as a blade.

“Because the company could’ve dragged you into court for defamation.”

“Like the fact you transferred some of Grant’s assets into accounts under your name.”

“What?”

“Oh, hit a nerve?” Avery raised an eyebrow. “Getting defensive already?”

Before I could answer, Grant appeared. His gaze was ice-cold.

“What’s the combination to be safe?”

I frowned. “Safe?”

“Bring it out.”

Two large men hauled in a small steel box.

I recognized it. My safety.

My secret place—where I kept the past hidden to protect our future.

“You kept this from me?” Grant growled. “What else have you been hiding, Claire?”

I stepped forward, trying to take it back.

“Don’t touch it!” I shouted. “Take everything else—but not this!”

Paul grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

“You have no rights anymore.”

The safe was ripped from my hands—along with what was left of my heart.

“Open it,” Grant commanded.

“Now.”

I inhaled sharply, choking back tears and fury.

“The combination…” I said, voice shaking, “is our wedding date.”

Grant froze.

“Do you remember, Grant?” I whispered.

“You said it was the best day of your life.”

He nodded slowly, then began punching in the numbers.

Wrong.

He tried again. His hands were trembling.

Wrong.

His face changed. Jaw clenched. Avery leaned in, trying to whisper something, but Grant was spiraling.

Wrong. Again.

“You don’t remember.”

My voice was soft, wounded.

“I thought we shared that day. Turns out…”

He looked away. Couldn’t meet my eyes.

I stepped forward.

With icy fingers, I entered the numbers.

Click.

The lock disengaged. The safe creaked open.

All eyes turned to its contents.

Grant leaned in, breath caught in his throat—curiosity bleeding through his anger.