Richard lifted me from the floor.

I leaned weakly against his shoulder, my gaze briefly meeting Thomas's.


In that moment, I knew that his image of me had completely shattered.

He had recovered from his initial shock.

Calmly watching his mother beat and insult me, he wore the expression of an uninvolved spectator no matter how much pain I was in.


Not once did he flinch or try to stop her.

I realized I'd lost the only person who had been genuinely kind to me all these years.


But I don't regret it.

Richard gently placed me on the bed, his manicured fingers slowly caressing my bruised face.

Then, with his back to me, he declared firmly to Victoria, "I won't give up Claire. Name your conditions."

Thomas stepped forward, his voice steady. "We don't want anything from you. Just promise you'll never show your face to my mother and me again."

"Thomas, you—"

Victoria's eyes widened in protest, but Thomas silenced her with a look. He took her arm and led her from the room with determined strides.

As Victoria left, she shot me one last venomous glare. The door closed behind them with a final click.

The room fell silent except for the hum of the air conditioner.

I lazily leaned back against the headboard, forcing my lips into a seductive smile despite the throbbing pain in my face. "Mr. Collins," I purred, "we were interrupted earlier. Shall we continue?"

Richard gripped my chin, his expression unreadable. He leaned close, his breath warm against my ear: "Claire, haven't you played enough? Stop now—you're no match for her."

My hand, hidden beneath the blanket, clenched into a fist.

Damn the old fox—nothing escapes him.

I gave him my sweetest smile. "Mr. Collins, what are you talking about? I don't understand."

He patted my cheek, the gesture both intimate and condescending. "It's better that you don't. Claire, I should have mentioned—I don't like women who think they're clever."

I nodded obediently. "Understood, Mr. Collins."

He kissed my eyes.

That evening, after dinner at the hotel, Richard drove me to a street corner near the university campus.

I stepped out and waved goodbye, watching as his Bentley disappeared down the tree-lined street.

These moments after leaving Richard were always the worst.

This should have been a rare moment of relief—when I didn't have to pretend around him, didn't have to fake those moans or exhaust myself trying to please him.

Yet I only felt a hollowness spreading inside me, a void that seemed to stretch forever.

Without Richard, I didn't know where my life was headed.

He had become my greatest motivation for living in this world.

Because I hated him. I wanted to destroy his marriage, ruin his family, watch his perfect life crumble to dust.

I wanted him to fall in love with me, become dependent on me, then cruelly kick him to the curb.

This was a debt he owed my mother.

My mother is gone, so I'm collecting on her behalf.