Chapter 13 - Collision Course
Julian noticed the sudden stiffness in my posture. He followed my gaze across the crowded gallery, taking in the spectacle of my family struggling to charm a junior VP of acquisitions near the buffet table.
"Do you know them?" Julian asked quietly, his tone dropping into something protective. "Because if they're clients, I can have security escort them out before they embarrass the firm."
"They aren't clients," I said, my voice ice-cold. "They're parasites."
Before Julian could respond, my mother turned her head. Her eyes swept across the gallery, landing directly on me. The color drained from her face instantly, leaving her powdered cheeks looking like chalk. She clutched my father’s arm, her nails digging into his sleeve hard enough to make him wince. My father followed her line of sight, and his face contorted into a mixture of utter shock and sudden, desperate hope.
They didn't walk toward me—they charged.
"Claire!" my mother cried out, ignoring the scandalized glances of surrounding diplomats and billionaires. She rushed forward, arms outstretched as if she were about to embrace a long-lost martyr rather than the daughter she had left destitute on a hospital gurney. "Oh, thank God! Claire, darling, we’ve been trying to reach you for months!"
I didn't move an inch. I stood my ground, my posture immaculate, my expression devoid of any human warmth. When she was three feet away, she stopped, arrested by the sheer arctic chill radiating from my eyes.
"Mother," I said, the word falling like a lead weight. "You’re making a scene. And in a room full of people who actually matter, that’s a fatal error."
Tyler caught up, his face flushing a deep, mottled red. "Claire! Look, let's not make a big deal out of this. We’re all family here. My firm is pitching a commercial development project to Vanguard tonight, and you’re in a position to help us. A simple word to Sterling—"
"A simple word to Sterling?" I cut him off, my voice carrying cleanly across the quieted gallery. Several heads turned. Julian Vance stepped smoothly to my right, positioning himself like a silent, elegant fortress. "Tyler, the last time you asked me for a simple word, you and my parents sold my home while I was unconscious on an operating table. What makes you think I’d spit on you if you were on fire, let alone recommend your sinking firm to my executive board?"
My father stepped up, his chest puffed out with that pathetic, misplaced patriarchal authority that had ruined half our lives. "Claire, show some respect! We are your family! Blood is thicker than—"
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"Don't you dare," I whispered, stepping forward until I was towering over him despite my shorter stature. The sheer force of my will made him recoil a half-step. "You bled me dry. You treated my life, my hard work, and my body as collateral damage for Chloe’s big day. And how did that turn out? How was the honeymoon, Chloe? Did the bankruptcy filings make for good pillow talk?"
Chloe let out a choked gasp, tears springing instantly to her eyes as she clutched her absurd tulle dress. "You're a monster, Claire! You ruined my life out of pure jealousy!"
