Chapter 5
Three years, and nothing had changed.
Michael looked away, feeling awkward under Claire's stare. "Claire, we've managed to keep things civil for three years. I never wanted it to come to this, but Emily is where I draw the line."
Claire finally spoke, her voice rough, "So your so-called bottom line means not even caring about right or wrong?"
Michael frowned. "Tell me what you want. Consider it compensation."
"I want that land. Right now," Claire demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"No way. Not before the divorce," Michael replied flatly.
Claire understood perfectly—he was keeping that land as his last leverage over her.
Michael walked back to the window, turning his back to her, his tone unreadable. "There is only a month left until Grandma's birthday.
"After the birthday, we'll get divorced as per the agreement. The land will be yours, just like the contract says."
Claire let out a mocking laugh. "Michael, you're such a hypocrite. You act like you're all about family, but you're hurting the one person who saved your grandma's life."
His face darkened, but he offered no defense.
"Fine." Claire yielded. For that land, she had to endure this, too.
"You said each slap was worth 300 thousand. Ten slaps, three million. Transfer it. Now."
Michael paused for a moment, then pulled out his phone and started typing.
A few seconds later, Claire's phone started buzzing nonstop.
One notification after another popped up—each one announcing a new deposit.
Six million in total. That was three million more than she'd demanded.
Michael said, slipping his phone back into his pocket, "The extra is for your medical bills and for the pain and suffering.
"And you need to make a statement—clear things up about the party, admit you provoked Emily first, and make a public apology."
Claire shot upright, pain searing through her swollen face as she moved too quickly, hissing through clenched teeth.
"Michael, do you even understand what I'll be up against if I make that statement? Everyone will tear me apart, call me ungrateful, accuse me of betraying those who helped me, and crucify me in front of everyone—"
Michael cut her off. "I know. But this is the fastest way to protect Emily's reputation.
"She's the heiress of Lane Enterprises, just returned and is taking over the business. She needs her record spotless—no scandals, no drama."
Claire stared at him, her voice steady and cold. "And what about me? What about my reputation? None of this was even my fault."
Michael was silent for a moment before finally speaking. "After Grandma's birthday, you're done with the Quinn family and this crowd. Take the money, head back to wherever you came from, and start over.
"Your reputation? It doesn't mean a thing. Six million is more than enough for you to live easy for the rest of your life. This deal's more than fair for you."
Rich folks always thought tossing money at the poor could break their spirit.
To Michael, cash was a magic fix for anything when it came to Claire.
It could patch up any hurt, wipe away any disgrace, and shut everyone up.
"What if I don't make the statement?" Claire challenged, her voice unwavering.
Michael's gaze went cold. "That family plot you're so obsessed with? Quinn Holdings will break ground immediately. Bulldozers roll in within a week."
Claire's fingers clenched the bedsheet, knuckles white.
She knew Michael wasn't joking around.
The memory of the villagers, their tear-streaked faces as they begged her, was still vivid.
Her parents' cautious hope over the phone, her younger brother's admiring tone when he said, "Claire's amazing—she can save the family cemetery"—all of it weighed heavily on her.
Dignity? Pride? Worthless in the face of reality.
She gave in. Her eyes lifted to Michael. "I'll issue the statement. Now get out."
Michael's frown deepened. He hesitated, wanting to say something, but in the end, he just turned and walked out.
*****
Later, Claire had no choice but to post the statement.
Less than ten minutes after it went live, the comments section exploded.
[See? No matter how hard you try, people from the bottom just don't belong up there. She was never meant for this world.]
[Should've just given her some money for the life debt—no need to marry her. Now he knows why matching status matters.]
[Poor Emily, coming back home only to be smeared by this schemer.]
[Get out of high society. You don't deserve to be there!]
Claire turned off her phone and buried her face in the pillow.
Her cheek still throbbed, but the pain in her heart was even worse.
It wasn't because of Michael—it was her own powerlessness. She was the one who had been wronged, yet she was forced to apologize.
She just wanted to go home, to be with her parents.
But for the sake of that land, she had no choice.
She tried to laugh it off, using irony as a shield. Slapped in the face and left with a ruined reputation—but at least her bank account had just grown by six million.
*****
Next door, in the study, Michael sat behind his massive desk. A pile of merger paperwork was spread out in front of him, but he couldn't read a thing.
On his phone screen was the statement Claire had just posted.
The comments were multiplying before his eyes—filthy, vicious, and downright disgusting.
He frowned, his first instinct to grab his phone and call PR to manage the comments, but his finger froze over the dial.
He couldn't interfere.
This was what he'd promised Emily. Claire had to be "taught a lesson," and Emily's reputation had to stay spotless.
He needed to prove—both to Emily and to himself—that he didn't have a shred of feeling left for Claire.
He loosened his tie in frustration and lit a cigarette.
In the haze of smoke, Claire's face flashed before him—her swollen, bloodshot eyes filled with raw despair, the broken sob in her voice.
A faint, needling pang pricked somewhere inside.
For three years, they'd lived under the same roof.
She cooked when he was sick, dragged him out for runs when he couldn't sleep, and encouraged him to hold on when he missed Emily.
He knew he'd gone too far.
It wasn't just crossing the line—it was way beyond that.
He had struck her. Not once, but ten times.
He slapped a woman who hadn't done anything wrong, who'd spent three years making sure he always looked like the perfect guy in front of everyone.
He'd promised her that, for as long as their agreement lasted, he'd make sure she always had respect and felt secure.
But Emily had spent three years waiting for him.
He'd sworn he'd never let her be hurt again.