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.

Claire bolted upright in bed, gasping, the phantom weight of those men still clinging to her skin. Fear coiled in her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"You're awake?"

A stranger's voice sounded beside her. Claire looked up just as a man stepped out of the bathroom.

He was shirtless, his physique so flawlessly defined it looked sculpted—broad shoulders, a tapered waist, every muscle taut with restrained power. A towel hung low on his hips, the deep V-line of his abdomen on full display. The sight was effortlessly, devastatingly masculine.

Heat flooded her cheeks. She yanked the blanket up to her chin, panic tightening her throat. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"You don't remember?" The man raised a brow. "This is the Bennett estate. Take a guess."

"You're… Calvin's uncle. Jordan?"

A hazy memory surfaced. They'd lived under the same roof briefly when she was a child, before he'd left for overseas. She hadn't seen him since.

"Hm. Not bad." He gave a slight, approving nod. "I hear you're trading up from Calvin. Had enough of him?"

Claire looked down, her voice quiet but firm. "Yes. I refuse to be a stepping stone for him and Iris."

Jordan's eyebrow arched higher. "When did the boy go blind?"

His tone softened, almost imperceptibly. "Don't waste your sadness on him. You can do far better. I'm looking forward to the wedding."

He reached out, ruffling her hair with a casual familiarity before turning back to the bathroom. He emerged moments later, fully dressed, and left the room without another word.

Watching him go, Claire felt an inexplicable flutter in her chest.

Not long after, George hurried in, worry etched on his face.

"Claire, my dear! Are you alright? What happened? Did that grandson of mine upset you again?"

"I'm fine, Grandpa George," she assured him. "Would it be possible for me to stay here at the estate for a few days?"

"Of course, of course! You rest. I'll handle everything else."

She reached out, stopping him gently. "Grandpa George… please, don't tell Calvin I'm here."

"You have my word," he promised.

…

Meanwhile, across town, Iris had woken screaming from a nightmare that night and wept uncontrollably. Calvin rushed her to the hospital and spent two full days calming her, barely leaving her side.

It wasn't until the eve of the wedding that Calvin realized he hadn't heard a word from Claire in all that time.

Returning home, he questioned the staff, only to learn she hadn't been back once.

"Calvin, I'm so sorry," Iris wept, burying her face in his chest. "If it weren't for me, Claire wouldn't have run away. The wedding is tomorrow… what are you going to do?"

"Good riddance," Calvin said coldly.

He pulled her closer. "You've suffered in the shadows long enough, Iris. All so you could someday stand openly by my side in this family."

"It's okay," she whispered, the picture of devotion. "I'll stay quietly with you. I'll be the woman behind you. It's just… Claire keeps trying to hurt me. I don't know how much more I can take."

Iris dissolved into fresh sobs. Calvin held her, his voice low and reassuring. "Once I have full control of the Bennett empire, once the power is truly mine, I'll divorce Claire. Not even Grandpa will be able to stop me then."

"I believe you," Iris murmured. "I'll wait for you."

She rose on her toes and kissed him first.

Calvin's restraint shattered. He took her, again and again, losing himself in the promise of a future he was determined to seize.

…

Back at the Bennett family estate, Claire's phone buzzed with a series of messages from Iris. Attached was a video.

It showed Iris and Calvin, entangled in his bed.

Iris: [Claire, so sorry—your fiancé is in my bed right now. He's incredible. He's had me so many times.]

Iris: [I wonder… on your wedding night tomorrow, will he be in my room, or yours?]

Iris: [So what if you marry him? He's always loved me! Claire, why do you get to be the cherished Aniston heiress while I'm the shameful secret? Even with your family ruined, George still dotes on you! I'm taking everything from you. Everything. Including Calvin.]

Reading the messages one by one, Claire typed a simple reply: [So you don't love him. You just want to win against me.]

Iris: [Yes! I'm stealing him from you! I want you to hurt! I want you to regret ever crossing me!]

A faint, cold smile touched the corner of Claire's mouth.

Perfect.

That was exactly the confession she needed.

She printed out every single message. Tomorrow, she would give Calvin a surprise he'd never forget.