Chapter 19 - The Whispers of Society
By evening, the news had swept through New York’s high society like wildfire.
The fall of Richard Bennett was the top story on every financial blog, tabloid, and morning talk show. But the real gossip—the detail that had the entire upper echelon of Manhattan buzzing—was the identity of the mysterious woman who had engineered the hostile takeover alongside billionaire Ethan Caldwell.
*The Bennett Heiress Strikes Back,* screamed the headline of one major digital paper. *From Wedding Outcast to Corporate Queen: Who is Claire Vance?*
I sat in the plush velvet armchair of our private study, scrolling through the articles on my tablet while sipping a glass of sparkling water. The comments sections were a wild mix of shock, admiration, and utter disbelief. People who had ignored me at charity galas—people who had laughed behind my back while my father degraded me—were now scrambling to find my email address, sending obsequious messages of congratulations and invitations to exclusive events.
My phone buzzed on the glass coffee table. I glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number, followed by another, and another. I ignored them all.
A moment later, the heavy oak door of the study opened, and Ethan walked in. He had changed out of his business suit into a comfortable black cashmere sweater, looking effortlessly handsome. He held two crystal glasses filled with amber-colored scotch, extending one toward me with a soft smile.
"Celebrating?" I asked, taking the glass from his hand.
"Surviving the storm," Ethan corrected, sitting down on the sofa across from me. He stretched his long legs out, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Though I have a feeling the storm is only just beginning to attract an audience."
As if on cue, my phone lit up again. This time, it wasn't a random number or a business associate.
It was Victoria.
I stared at the screen, watching my sister’s name flash repeatedly against the dark glass. I hadn't spoken to her since the night of her wedding—the night she stood at the altar in her five-million-dollar gown while her father poured wine down my dress, smiling as if it were the funniest joke in the world.
"Who is it?" Ethan asked, noticing the subtle shift in my expression.
"Victoria," I said quietly.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. "Do you want me to block the number?"
I looked at the flashing screen for a long, quiet moment. For months, I had imagined what I would say to her if she ever reached out. I had imagined screaming, demanding an apology, making her feel even a fraction of the humiliation I had suffered in that ballroom.
Instead, a strange, hollow sense of peace washed over me. Victoria wasn't an enemy anymore. She was just a casualty of a world she had relied on, completely unaware that her foundation had vanished beneath her feet.
"No," I said softly, sliding my thumb across the screen to accept the call. I pressed the phone to my ear. "Victoria?"
There was a frantic, breathless sob on the other end of the line.
May you like
"Claire!" Victoria cried out, her voice trembling violently. "Oh, thank God you picked up! Claire, you have to help me. Please! Richard—Dad—he's completely lost his mind. He’s locked himself in his study, and the bank accounts... our credit cards are being declined, and Mark’s family is threatening to annul the marriage because of the scandal, and—"
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