Claire went to another shop and picked out a wedding dress she somewhat liked.

The first thing she did upon returning to the villa was pack her luggage.

Once she finished, she noticed a post from Calvin's friend on social media.

[Congratulations to the happy couple.]

The post was a nine-grid collage of Calvin and Iris's wedding photos—three different outfits, three different scenes.

The constant, however, was Calvin's smile and the way he looked at Iris. After all these years, Claire had never seen that expression directed at her.

She silently tapped "like." Then, after storing her suitcase, she went to a real estate office.

Since she was moving out of the villa, she needed a new place to prepare as a bridal home. Her mother had always said she wanted to see her get married with her own eyes.

Claire fell in love with a fully furnished apartment that had a garden—and a pond, perfect for her two black swans. She swiped her card and bought it, then stopped by a mall to pick up some decorations for the wedding suite.

She spent the entire night arranging everything by herself until the bridal home was finally complete.

When she finished, she placed a photo of her mother on the cabinet.

"Mom, don't worry about me. I'll be happy, I promise."

The next morning, Claire returned to the villa. She was lucky—Calvin and Iris weren't there.

She went to the yard, had the two swans taken away, and ordered the servants to drain the pond.

"Miss, wasn't this pond built at your request? You even said one swan for you, one for Sir…"

"Drain it," Claire said calmly. "My pendant fell in. I need to find it."

It took five hours for the pump to empty the small pond. Claire recovered her grandfather's emerald pendant, wiped it clean, and left with her luggage.

The servants panicked when they saw her leaving.

"Miss Aniston, where are you going? In a few days, you're supposed to marry Sir! Why are you suddenly leaving?"

"I'm not marrying Calvin," she said, walking away without looking back.

She moved into the apartment she had bought, staring at the fully decorated wedding suite with a hollow feeling in her chest. She was about to go to the supermarket to stock the fridge when the doorbell rang incessantly.

Claire opened the door to find a scowling Calvin, a teary-eyed Iris, and a few of his smug friends crowding the hallway.

She frowned. "What are you all doing here?"

"See, Calvin? We were right!" one friend jeered. "She really did buy a secret bridal home. She wants to get married from here!"

"And she's already decorated it!" another chimed in. "And she says she won't marry you? What a load of crap!"

"Bet she disappeared these last few days just to make you come crawling to pick her up on the wedding day."

Calvin's friends looked Claire up and down, their scorn plain.

"Seriously, Calvin doesn't even like you. Marrying you is already doing you a favor. And you think you get to make some grand exit? Your demands are ridiculous."

It was true—Claire had considered it. With the Aniston family home gone, she had nowhere else. If she were to marry Calvin, she needed a wedding suite, a place to leave from.

But now, she'd only decorated this place so her late mother could see it.

Calvin's gaze swept the room, sharp and cold as ice.

"Did I give you permission to decorate? I told you not to touch a thing at home, and you went behind my back, moved out, and did all this?"

"Claire, you really didn't have to go this far," Iris spoke up, her eyes welling. "I thought you were really stepping aside for me, but you were just setting me up."

Their voices buzzed in Claire's ears, worsening her headache. "Get out. This is my house."

Calvin grabbed her wrist, his grip tight. "Claire, don't you feel pathetic? What's the point of all this? You think I'd actually come here to pick you up? I already told you—on the wedding day, you go alone. I'm not coming."

"Let go of me!" Claire wrenched her arm free, anger rising hot in her chest. "Calvin, you don't have the right to pick me up! The man I'm marrying isn't even you—"

"Still putting on an act?" he cut her off, voice dangerous. "Want me to smash every last thing in here?"

Claire's breath caught in panic. "Don't you dare, Calvin!"

Calvin sneered. "Why wouldn't I dare? You used my card to buy a house. This house is mine! I can do whatever I want with it!"

"I didn't use your card! I bought this house myself!"

"You have money?" Calvin glared at her. "Your family went bankrupt long ago. Where would you get the money for a house? Even if you somehow had it, it would still be from the Bennett family!"

"Exactly. Claire, Calvin has treated you well all these years."

His friends chimed in one after another, while Iris wailed even louder. "Calvin, don't pressure Claire! She just wants to have a grand wedding!"

Before she could finish, Calvin drew a deep breath. "Fine, I won't smash it. But you're leaving. Now. Claire, my patience with you has run out."

"Calvin, this house is mine! I didn't use your credit card!"

"Throw her luggage out."

Calvin didn't even wait for a response. His friends immediately started tossing Claire's bags outside.

Watching her carefully packed home being destroyed piece by piece, Claire finally broke.

"Calvin! Stop! Or I'll call the police!"

"Police? Let's see if they dare to interfere!"

He was right. The Bennett family wielded immense power; even if the police came, they might not be able to touch him.

She could only watch as they threw all her belongings to the ground, and with it, the last shred of love she had for him vanished completely.

"And this!"

Iris grabbed her mother's photograph and hurled it against the wall.

Shards of glass and broken frames scattered across the floor. Claire's eyes turned red with fury as she clutched Iris by the throat.

"Who allowed you to touch my mom's photo?!"

"Cough! Cough! You're crazy—Calvin, help me!"

Iris gasped for air, turning to Calvin for rescue.

Without hesitation, Calvin shoved her away. "Claire, let go! Or I'll kill you!"

Claire's head slammed against the wall. Blood trickled down her forehead.

She met his furious gaze with an icy smile. “You'd better keep a close eye on your little mistress. Otherwise… I might just kill her too.”

“I've never seen anyone so heartless!” he snarled, pulling Iris protectively against him. “Claire, if you just leave Iris alone, I'll give you the title of my wife. But my life with her is none of your business. Get rid of those feelings that don't belong to you—otherwise, our friendship of over ten years is over.”

His friends shut the door behind them, took Claire's keys, and left in a loud, arrogant procession.

As they walked away, Iris flashed her a triumphant smirk.

Alone, Claire sank to her knees in the doorway, helplessly gathering the shattered pieces of her mother's photograph.

“Mom… I'm so sorry. My life is such a mess right now. But don't worry. Once I'm married, no one will ever bully me again.”

She picked up her scattered luggage and left the apartment.

A light rain fell from the overcast sky as she walked, watching people hurry past. She tried calling Grandpa George, but after several unanswered calls to the Bennett family, she had no choice but to spend the night sitting on the curb.

As darkness settled, she finally decided to look for a hotel.

But just a few steps away, a group of rough-looking men emerged from an alley.

Their eyes locked onto her.

“Well, look what we have here,” the leader said, his gaze sweeping over Claire's face and figure. “Not bad at all. Lost money tonight, but seems we might get lucky in other ways.”

They moved toward her. Without hesitation, Claire dropped her suitcase, clutched her mother's photo to her chest, and ran as fast as she could.

Wasn't today already bad enough? Why was this happening, too?

“Hey! She's running! After her!”

Their menacing shouts followed her through the rain. Claire ran desperately, the downpour soaking her hair and clothes.

A car sped toward her.

The screech of tires pierced the night before the impact sent her crashing violently to the ground.

"What's the matter?"

In the back of the black Maybach, a man of almost surreal features sat in silence, turning the pages of a magazine without looking up.

The driver's voice trembled slightly. "Sir… I believe we may have struck someone."

"Go and check if they're alive."

The driver grabbed an umbrella and hurried out of the car.

Through the sheets of rain, he saw a woman lying on the ground. She was curled up, perilously close to the tires. One more foot, and it would have been a tragedy.

"Miss! Are you okay?"

The driver crouched down, taking in the sight of the utterly drenched young woman.

Her hair was stuck to her pallid face, her slender frame shaking violently in the torrential rain—she looked like she could barely hold herself up.

"Help me!"

Claire lifted her head, the headlights blinding her. She could see nothing clearly, but with all her remaining strength, she reached out and clutched the driver's pant leg.

"Please… save me!"

She couldn't die. Not yet. She had revenge to take. Iris and Calvin had to pay.

"There she is!"

A low, rough shout came from behind, followed by the pounding footsteps of several men rushing toward them.

"Help me!"

The disturbance outside finally drew Jordan Bennett's attention. He glanced through the window.

Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw several men surrounding a woman. They had hauled her up, leaving her helpless—a lamb awaiting slaughter.

He had only meant to look. He had no intention of intervening.

But when the woman turned her face slightly in his direction, his brows drew sharply together.

He opened his umbrella and stepped out of the car. Long, deliberate strides carried him toward the commotion.

"Sir… they—" the driver began.

"Let her go."

His voice was ice, cutting through the din of the rain. Claire squinted, straining to make him out, but the downpour rendered his features an indistinct blur.

"Please… save me," she pleaded again.

The rain-diffused light fell clearly on her face.

Jordan's grip on the umbrella handle tightened imperceptibly. Then, his voice dropped, low and commanding. "I said… let her go."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" one of the thugs sneered, stepping forward to shove him.

Jordan turned, and with a swift motion, the man was sent sprawling into a deep puddle with a heavy splash.

The others, stunned by his speed and precision, hesitated.

"Get him! All of you, now!"

One by one, they fell. Jordan dispatched them with effortless, brutal efficiency.

Their leader, seeing the situation, immediately released Claire and scrambled away in a panic.

"Claire… can you hear me?"

Jordan bent down and gathered her into his arms.

The years had changed her—she had grown, matured into her features.

Her eyes remained closed, long lashes quivering faintly, like the delicate wings of a trapped butterfly.

"Don't touch me…" The girl shivered violently in his embrace.

A frown etched itself between Jordan's brows. Something long dormant within his chest seemed to fracture and stir.

Even the driver had recognized her. "Oh, isn't this the Aniston girl? The one who's causing a stir by choosing a groom by lottery? Master George said she could pick from any eligible heir in the Bennett family."

"Hm." Jordan raised an eyebrow. "And Calvin doesn't want her?"

"That's the rumor, sir. He's apparently involved with Claire's half-sister… the illegitimate Aniston daughter."

"Ha." A cold, humorless smile touched Jordan's lips. "My… nephew has remarkably poor taste. To spurn the woman who pursued him for years in favor of an illegitimate child."

He didn't like her. Fine.

Jordan did.

If he hadn't heard she was resorting to a marital lottery, he wouldn't have returned at all.