/0/94966/coverbig.jpg?v=bd36a27c348ddc37df2db9c6b307ae62)
Harringt
ted as it may be, will not be forgotten." A voice, low and thick with a
d and gave a strained thank you. The scene was the Ashford City Cemetery, the mood thick
e company-and Eleanor's life-had ended not in silent death but in a firestorm of public scandal, investigative lawsuits, and a fatal heart attack wid
themselves to count Claire out completely. Not only was she Eleanor's fallen daughter; she was also the estranged wife of Adrian Blackwo
towards the door. Adrian Blackwood was conspicuous by his absence. As final pra
wood emerged, his handsome, sharp-featured face utterly unwarm. Claire had not set eyes on him in the two years of their nominal m
with flowers or a wreath
ropriate red cocktail dress stepped out. Adrian's lover and reputed fiancée from Monroe Holdings, Felicity Monroe, slipped her ar
a fleeting warmth that was a punch in the stomach to Claire. He pru
led, stood on tiptoes, and left a
rest, in front of a crowd of judgmental social media influencers, her husband was not onl
t her composure breaking. Adrian was already stepping
long, deliberate moment of tense silence. "Long time no see, Mrs. Blackwood," he sneered, his voice a low,
ed, the words rough and strained. She kn
to reach his eyes. "I just stopped by to offer my respects to my disti
terfall. If only she were not the daughter of my enemy, an enemy who used her media empire to ruin my family's reputa
acking with sudden authority
f the Blackwood Corporation. They quickly scattere
an's grip was vice-like, and he forcefully dragged her away from the crowd, through a side
Blackwoo
ly tailored suit jacket, his face utterly
nervous curiosity, and grasped his hand. "Adrian, darling, how d
er hand and went down the stairs, dismissing the meeti
s calm demeanor, did not dare press any further. She just gazed
Harringt
riveted on the black-and-white photo of her mother. The jeering words Adr
the reputations she destroyed, and the public smear campaign that ruined my family. Now she's fi
hispered, sinking to her knees,
edia empire was already old news. Another headline, screaming from every dig
oe Holdings Heiress Felicity Monroe-Divorce f
ief, a band of strangers broke into the ancestral Harringt
, rushed to her in distress. "Mrs. Blackwood! They just pushe
other proudly claimed to have received from a political friend. "What do you th
king for Mr. Blackwood. He does own this estate. We were instructe
r had bought this house for the wedding, a vote of confidence, Clai
is he
he news alert appeared on the screen. Divorce
what now?" Lisa
ally, publicly stripp
ddenly firm after two seconds of blood-curdling s
r later, at Ashford
wo hours. Adrian did not show up. His lawyer, a young m
Ms. Harrington, Mr. Blackwood has requested that I tell you that if you will sign this divorce agreement and the no
blow. Claire produced a brittle, mirthless s
ty. The Lake Hill property is a last gesture of good faith." He slid a third document forward. "Furthermore, this makes the magnitude of the debt run up by Harrington Ent
rap. Adrian had planned every move, created e
ligence, the young man who revived a disgraced family name and forged it into the unstoppab
ink this would
ne. He would not even lower himself to give her the news
calm into her voice. She shoved t
is fiancée, Miss Monroe. I am authorized to act in his stead
he money, or his charity. I just want to see him," Claire reciproc
n't see you," the lawyer reiterate
nts and bunched her fist. "Then I will never sign this agreement. If he proceeds and marries Fe
torney was shocked, his
his fiancée? A PR perfection for the Blackwood Corporation?
ton, CEO of Redwood Properties-they're sealing a major media deal-at the Sterling Club
ome things-some scores-have
e city's invincible fortress of media and political luxury, where re
gold lettering of the club's sign
t?" He looked her up and down at her expensive, but clearly worn, clothing. Her face was familiar from a tho
robably her last treasured possession. "I am supposed to meet Blackwood
a sector, instantly commanded respect. The guar
iced sympathy. "I am sorry, Miss. Mr. Blackwood instructed that
this. Adrian was trying to make her crawl, accept his terms without a murmur. But she was Claire Harrington, daug
g a tearful, watery look on her face. "Could I use
ce door," answered the security guard, sympathy overcomi
e back door and into the small, antiseptic employee bathroom. As she was washing
. "Jasmine Clarke will be furious she's sick with that seafood allergy! The headliners are here. I heard
a photo with me for my social media. Everyone k
g hair back into a tight, unforgiving knot. She turned the faucet off once more and scowled at her face in the mirror, now gau

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