At nine o’clock the same night, I watched Isabel's live stream on my phone. She was flaunting her million-dollar Patek Philippe watch.
"I tattooed the word ‘old spinster’ on that freeloading old hag. She’s thirty years old, but her skin is already all crusty. I made sure to use darker color ink so it wouldn’t come off!"
The viewers in the livestream applauded what she did, which inspired her to gloat again.
"How dare a nepo baby who relies on her family’s wealth think she is a match for someone like me? Evan told me that once he got divorced from her, he was going to give me half of the company’s shares."
The blood drained from my face.
Five years ago, I was the one who sponsored Isabel. She had been a needy student from a rural area and was stuck in poverty. She barely had food to eat or clothing to keep herself warm.
I rescued her and sent her to the best school in the region so that she would flourish in the future.
The talents she has today were nurtured by the education I provided for her. And yet, she betrayed me and stole my husband from me.
At ten o’clock sharp, the door to the warehouse was thrown open. My men brought Isabel in and pinned her to the ground.
She squirmed and screamed on the ground.
"Claire! All you do is use your family’s power to abuse others!" Then, she smiled smugly as a thought suddenly occurred to her. "If Evan finds out what you’ve done to me, he’s never going to let you get away with it!
"Once he gets bored with you, do you think your family would want anything to do with you, especially once you get divorced by a Rodger? You'll be a nobody when that happens!"
I crouched low and ran my fingertips across her smooth, silky skin. "Say, what do you think if I use your nice, smooth skin to cover up the tattoo on my chest?"
Her eyes widened in sheer terror. "Quit abusing your power…"
I shrugged her off before taking a sterilized towel my butler handed me and carefully wiping my hands with it. "You're wrong about something. Let me remind you—I am the kingpin of Newark City."
When the lights at the operating table were flicked on, memories from a decade ago came rushing back to me.
That was when Evan was still a broke student. I remembered the way he would starve for three months, all so he could save money to buy a birthday present from me.
I remembered the way the sleeves of his shirt faded from washing and how the hem became frayed.
On New Year's Eve, he brought me a cake he made himself.
He waited for me well into midnight despite the cold, and when he finally saw me, the first thing he said was whether I felt cold.
Many years later, he started a business. With my help, the company went public.
He had held me tightly with a tender look in his eyes. "Baby, thank you for being by my side. I promise to always be good to you."
It was only when he met my mother that he finally connected the dots.
Claire Fisher. Fisher!
The same Fisher family that was well known in the city.
Later on, he confessed what he thought the moment he met my mother, "I was afraid you would think I was not good enough for you."
After learning about my background, he worked himself to the bone and pushed his body to the limit. He fought tooth and nail to enter the high society circle of Newark City.
He even spent $100 million to build me a manor.
What was it that he said again?
He once expressed to me that his sole purpose in life was the ambition to transform into a man who truly deserved to be by my side.
"Miss?"
I opened my eyes abruptly. The throbbing pain in my heart was choking the breath out of me.
My butler whispered, "Mr. Rodger is back."
I looked at my chest. The skin graft surgery had gone perfectly.
Evan entered with several bags in tow and wore his usual smile. He set the luxury bags with branded logos on them down before taking me in his arms. He was uncharacteristically tender with me.
"Claire, Isabel crossed a line today. You can have your way tonight. Just don't hold it against her, alright?"
The medical team had already left the manor by now.
Evan did not notice anything off at all. He smiled and tried to kiss me. "I promise I won't let her start any trouble with you again."
He must not notice how his tone softened at the sheer mention of Isabel.
Staring at him in silence, I pulled back from his attempt to kiss me. The version of the man standing before me now was a jarring departure from who he used to be.
He wore a watch worth millions, and the sleeves of his shirt, which were once frayed, were now adorned with exquisite pearl buckles. The scent of Isabel’s perfume clung to him like a second skin.
When I observed how dignified he looked, I suddenly remembered the New Year's Eve a decade ago.
I recalled the way he had stood in the snow with the sleeves of his padded jacket still damp and how he had confessed so earnestly to me.
