Chapter 3

A familiar voice.

I turned. Vivienne's girlfriends were dangling my clothes between them, smirking.

"Give those back!"

I lunged — and one of them yanked the door open and shoved me out into the corridor.

"Oh my God, she's not wearing anything?"

"Seriously, how shameless can you get?"

"Those are impressive, though — did anyone get a photo?"

"Already done. Boys, get on the group chat — she's practically glowing."

The slow click of leather shoes on marble.

All the chatter stopped.

"Wait — is that Mr. Ashford? What's he doing here?"

I looked up. Colton had Vivienne's hand in his, standing in front of me.

The Vivienne behind him had shed every trace of her earlier distress. She was practically glowing with satisfaction.

"Is this punishment enough for you?"

Colton glanced at Vivienne.

Every trace of the coldness and distance he'd shown me moments ago had transformed into warmth.

"Hmph." Vivienne pouted. "Look at you, finally learning to play hard to get. I almost thought you'd stopped listening to me."

"Never." He flicked her nose lightly. "No cameras in the changing room — that was all you, brilliant as always."

"Hmph! Of course. I'll forgive you — this once. But..." She shot me a sidelong look. "She still owes me an apology."

"Clara."

Colton looked down at me.

"Apologize."

I bit down so hard I tasted copper from the inside of my cheek.

"What did you say?"

Vivienne crouched.

The next second, a mouthful of blood landed square on her face.

"Ugh!" Vivienne recoiled from her white gown, the red spreading. "That's disgusting — filthy!"

"Clara!"

Colton seized my jaw. "I told you to apologize. Not to make it worse. Why can't you just be reasonable?"

"Reasonable?" I forced a smile through his grip. "I've done nothing wrong. Why should I be the one to fall in line?"

Fury blazed in his eyes — then slowly died, leaving behind something ice-cold.

"Since you refuse to learn."

I was yanked upright.

Colton dragged me by the arm — through the corridor, past the startled onlookers, through the wave of whispers that broke over us:

"Did she just come out like that?"

"Who does something like this?"

"Women should have some self-respect — if my daughter pulled this, I'd break her legs."

"Nice shot, though — did you get it in focus?"

"Colton!" I fought against his grip. My wrist was turning red where his fingers dug in. "Let go of me — what do you think you're doing?"

The hotel interior was mostly guests. Limited audience.

But when Colton shoved open the front doors, my heart nearly stopped.

"No—!"

He threw me into the street. Traffic, headlights, strangers — all of it, at once.

A car screeched and clipped a lamp post.

"What the hell — dressed like that, you should stay inside!"

"Is this some kind of game? Seriously?"

"That body, though — definitely built for—"

"Stop." My knees hit the pavement, skin splitting. I wrapped my arms around myself, barely covering enough to survive the moment. "Please stop talking — just stop—"

Pain and humiliation crashed over me in waves.

When I looked toward Colton, he was standing inside the hotel entrance, watching from above.

Then he raised a hand. Immediately, someone pulled the doors shut, sealing off any way back in.

"I mean... is this legal? Are we going to catch heat for this?"

"With what Colton Ashford can buy? This is nothing. Stay in your lane, do what he pays you to do — or you'll regret it."

The winter air carved into my skin, dry and burning.

No one on the street moved toward me. Even a girl who started to approach was pulled back by a friend.

"Are you crazy? You see who threw her out there?"

"Exactly — you want to go up against Colton Ashford?"

The hand that had almost reached me withdrew.

"Clara!"

Someone broke through the crowd, wrapping his suit jacket around me in one motion.

"Move. All of you, back off."

The crowd scattered at the shout.

I recognized the voice.

I looked up from inside the warmth of his jacket, and my eyes filled instantly.

"Adrian... Mr. Thorne..."

"Clara?"

Inside the private lounge, Adrian watched me carefully, reading my expression.

I sat curled on the sofa with my knees pulled to my chest, tears sliding down in silence.

"Don't cry. Every photo and video of you — I've had people scrub them from everywhere. There's nothing left online."

He reached over, a little helplessly, and wiped my cheeks.

"Thank you." I reached for my wrist and unclasped the bracelet, pressing it into his palm. "This is all I have on me right now. It was my mother's. When I'm established — when I actually have something to offer — I'll come back and buy it from you."

"Clara!"

His voice stopped me at the door.

Adrian's throat moved.

"I helped you because I wanted to. Not because I was expecting anything back."

I didn't turn around.

"Clara..."

His breath caught slightly.

"I want you to know — what I feel for you isn't about getting something from you. It's about giving you something."

I turned.

Tears had already soaked my face.

"Can you destroy Colton Ashford?"

"Of course."

He stepped toward me, closing the distance.

"Of course, Clara."

I was drawn gently into his arms.

"That was already the plan."