Betrayed By Fiancé, Claimed By His Uncle

For twenty-four hours, Clare refused to speak. She sat on the edge of the bed in the penthouse, staring blankly at the wall. She refused the water. She refused the meals that arrived from Michelin-starred restaurants, sitting untouched until they grew cold and were silently replaced by Aurthur's staff. Aurthur didn't push her. He worked in his study, leaving the door open so he could hear her every breath. By the afternoon of the second day, the hunger was a sharp ache in her stomach. But her desperation was stronger. She walked into his study. Aurthur looked up from his laptop. His face revealed nothing. "I want to see my grandmother," Clare said. Her voice was raspy from disuse. Matilda Lynch was the matriarch. She was the only power in New York that could rival the Boltons. She was Clare's last hope of escaping this nightmare. Aurthur leaned back in his leather chair. "Fine. I will take you." "I will go alone," Clare snapped. Aurthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "You can take my car. Or, I can call Matilda right now. I can tell her you spent the night with a random man, went missing, and are currently throwing a tantrum in my apartment." Clare's hands curled into fists. Her nails dug into her palms until they bled. He was ruthless. He knew exactly how to destroy her reputation before she even walked out the door. "Send the car," she whispered, defeated. An hour later, the Maybach pulled up to the massive iron gates of the Lynch estate in the Hamptons. Aurthur had not come, but his lead bodyguard sat in the front seat, a silent warden. Clare ran up the marble steps and burst into the sunroom. Matilda Lynch sat in a high-backed chair, sipping tea from a bone china cup. She looked immaculate, her white hair perfectly styled. "Clare," Matilda said, not looking up from her tea. "You look terrible." Clare fell to her knees beside her grandmother's chair. She buried her face in the older woman's lap and sobbed. She didn't mention Aurthur. She couldn't. The shame was too deep. "Jaren," Clare choked out. "He left me at the club. He was with Bailey. He let Brianna drug me. Grandma, I can't marry him. I want to cancel the engagement." Matilda slowly placed her teacup on the saucer. The clink of porcelain was sharp in the quiet room. She placed a cold, dry hand on Clare's head. "Sit up," Matilda commanded. Clare wiped her eyes and sat back on her heels. "Marriage, Clare, is not about your feelings," Matilda said. Her voice was devoid of any warmth. "It is a transaction." Clare's stomach twisted. "He betrayed me." "And he will likely do it again," Matilda replied smoothly. "But the Lynch trust fund has specific clauses. Our new development in Dubai requires the Bolton family's capital backing. If you break this engagement, the Boltons pull out. Your brother Bobbie's inheritance will be slashed in half. Our stock will plummet." Clare stopped breathing. She stared at her grandmother as if looking at a stranger. "Jaren is a fool," Matilda continued. "But he is a useful fool. Let him have his little pets on the side. As long as you have the ring and the title of his legal wife, you win." "You want me to marry a man who left me to be assaulted?" Clare's voice trembled. "I want you to do your duty to this family," Matilda said coldly. "Endure it. Look the other way. That is what women of our class do." The words were a physical blow to Clare's chest. The air was knocked out of her lungs. The grandmother she loved, the woman she thought would protect her, had just placed a price tag on her soul. She wasn't a granddaughter. She was a bargaining chip. Clare stood up slowly. Her legs felt numb. The tears dried instantly, replaced by a freezing, hollow void in her chest. She walked out of the sunroom without another word. She walked down the marble steps and got back into the black Maybach. The moment the car doors locked, the phone built into the armrest buzzed. Clare stared at it. She picked up the receiver. "Are you done talking?" Aurthur's voice filled the quiet car. Clare closed her eyes. She didn't answer. "My security chief just gave me the summary. It seems your grandmother chose business over blood," Aurthur said. He didn't sound gloating. He sounded terrifyingly certain. He let the silence stretch for three seconds before delivering the final blow. "Do you understand now, Clare? Everyone else will sell you out. The only person in this world who will never betray you, the only one who can protect you... is me." Clare leaned her head against the cold glass of the window. She didn't fight him. Because in her shattered world, he was suddenly the only solid thing left.