Chapter 2

It was her father's birthday after all. On the way, Claire asked to stop so she could buy a gift, but Ethan shut her down without a second thought. "There's no time. The gift can wait."

The car pulled straight up to the banquet hall. Ethan went to park, and moments later Claire's phone buzzed with a text from him telling her to head inside first.

Soft, elegant music drifted through the grand hall. The moment Claire walked in, Priscilla Thorne — who'd never gotten along with her — appeared with a group of women in tow.

Priscilla looked down at her, pinching her nose in exaggerated disdain.

"Claire Sterling. Where are your manners? Has the Sterling family gone broke? You couldn't even be bothered to wear a single piece of jewelry. You're an embarrassment to every woman of good society."

The women behind her tittered. "Some heiress. She can't even measure up to her own cousin."

Priscilla sneered. "And to think you're the daughter of Grace Sterling — the great Grace Sterling. Yet here you are, worse than the daughter of a mistress. No wonder your father strayed!"

Claire's mother had been an award-winning actress, the kind who swept every major honor in the industry. Richard Sterling had fallen for her at first sight and pursued her relentlessly until she finally said yes.

To be with the man she loved, Grace had walked away from her career to raise Claire. She'd died in a car accident when Claire was sixteen.

During the months Claire was locked away, her father had been photographed with another woman multiple times. It didn't take long for the internet to figure out the woman was Vivienne's mother.

Claire had confronted her father. "How could you do this? Don't you owe Mom better than that?"

His expression had turned glacial. "If I really wanted to honor your mother, I should've strangled you the day you were born. If it weren't for you, she'd still be alive."

Those words still cut her to ribbons. After her mother's death, her father had come to resent her — just like everyone else, he blamed Claire for Grace's death.

The guilt was a wound that never healed. If only she hadn't asked her mother to go buy that cake, maybe none of it would have happened. But it was too late.

Her mother was the one line no one was allowed to cross. Claire would not tolerate anyone speaking ill of her — not ever.

So even though she knew Priscilla was baiting her, Claire couldn't hold back. She raised her hand and slapped Priscilla across the face. "Shut your mouth. Don't you dare talk about my mother."

"And even if I weren't a Sterling by blood, I'd still be a board member. You're nobody. You don't get to lecture me."

Priscilla's face flushed scarlet with fury. "You bitch! How dare you hit me! My father won't let this go!"

Claire stared back at her, ice-cold, a thin smile on her lips. "I'll be waiting."

Just then, a gentle voice sounded behind her. "Claire, what are you doing here?"

The sound hit her like a shockwave. All the pain she'd buried came rushing to the surface. Her eyes stung as she turned around.

But one look, and the blood in her veins turned to ice.