Don’t Fall for the Billionaire Lover

Even though Chloe knew it was Claire up there on stage, she just couldn't look away. Her fingers clenched into a tight fist, a nervous reflex that had her gripping Pax's hand without realizing it. She had no idea what was coming next. Was Claire really going to drag a sword across her own neck? Chloe's heart was pounding like crazy. But Pax? He was as cool as a cucumber. His eyes weren't even on the stage; they were on Chloe's hand squeezing his so hard her knuckles turned white, making his palm throb. Still, he didn't say a word.

Chloe's eyes stayed glued to the stage. Claire didn't slice her neck, though. Instead, she flung the sword away and let out a wild, almost hysterical laugh. Her dress whipped around as if she could barely keep her balance, swinging between bouts of manic laughter and heart-wrenching sobs. Her tiara and hairpin were all askew, and she ripped them off, hurling them across the stage. Jewels and pearls scattered everywhere.

Claire was shaking like a leaf about to fall from a tree, crying one moment and shouting at the heavens the next, until someone stepped into her line of sight. It was Connor, clearly in a rush, his coat undone to reveal a white sweater underneath a little Christmas gift from Chloe. She'd won a voucher for a men's clothing store at the mall and thoughtlessly picked out this sweater for her Trophy Boy. It turned out to be Connor's favorite; he wore it every winter. And boy, did he look good in it, like some otherworldly being gracing the earth. When Claire looked up, her blurry eyes spotted a figure someone she'd dreamed of for what felt like forever. He was there, all dressed in white, looking like he'd stepped out of a dream.

"Colin... Is today your memorial? Are you back?"

Claire slowly got to her feet,

stumbling toward him. The boy from her memories and the man standing

f.ne

there merged in her mind, tears streaming down her face as she ran into the arms of the man in the moonlight.

"Colin, Paul, you've finally come back, you've come to see me, haven't you?" she cried, her tears soaking his shoulder.

"You must blame me, right? You must hate me. I'm so sorry, Paul. I left you alone; I should have gone with you. It wasn't fear that held me back, I swear."

Then something seemed to click in Claire's mind, and she started to shake, her voice turning chilling and eerie.

"I'll make them pay for what they did to you. I want them all in hell."

She took a step back, laughing like she'd lost her mind. "They're dead, all of them! I gave them back every ounce of the pain they put us through. I avenged you."

Suddenly, she looked at her hands, scrubbing them furiously against her dress before holding them out to the man, her voice thick with sorrow. "My hands are covered in so much blood. I can never get them clean again."