Chapter 1
The first time the reckless heiress Claire Stark laid eyes on Evan Holt, he was in a pool of blood on the floor of an underground fight club.
His face was a mask of red, and three of his ribs were broken. But he had his teeth sunk into his opponent's leg, refusing to let go.
The crowd jeered, calling him suicidal.
From her private box above, Claire swirled her wine, a slow smile playing on her lips. She pointed a single finger. "I want him."
She signed Evan, took him in, and sculpted him with the best coaches and nutritionists.
Evan clawed his way out of the gutter to become the brightest new star under the spotlight.
On the winner's podium, he offered the golden championship belt to her, his eyes burning with a fierce light. "Claire," he said, "my life is yours."
Claire simply smiled, gently plucking the cigarette from between his lips. "You should smoke less," she murmured. "It's bad for your lungs."
*****
Claire loved to watch Evan fight, adoring the untamed ferocity that mirrored the wildness in her own soul.
From sprawling villas to exquisite watches, she gave him the world.
It was no secret in their circle that Evan was Claire's most prized possession.
Some whispered behind their hands that a fighter, no matter how famous, was still just a plaything for the rich.
When Claire caught wind of it, she merely instructed her assistant, "Acquire a controlling interest in that media outlet."
Evan's fame exploded. Endorsements and TV appearances flooded in, but he still came home to her every night. He brought her cakes from a little bakery on Meglia Avenue and knelt to gently massage her ankle when she twisted it.
At night, he held her as if he was afraid she would disappear. "Claire," he whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. "You're all I have."
She traced the line of his brow, thinking that this, right here, was enough. He shielded her from the world with a love so total it was suffocating.
And then came the victory party after he won the Asian Championship.
Arriving late, Claire pushed open the lounge door, only to be met with a sight that turned her blood to ice: a drunken Evan, pinning Maya Stark against the wall in a suffocating embrace.
Maya was the illegitimate daughter Claire's father, Dylan Stark, had spent years trying to officially bring into the family, a move Claire had relentlessly blocked.
Evan's head snapped around, and his face drained of all color when he saw Claire.
Without a word, Claire turned and walked away.
The next day, Evan knelt outside her villa, staying there through the entire night. Claire refused to see him, sending her assistant with a message instead. "If you ever get tangled up with her again, I'll destroy you both. Evan, this is your only warning."
He broke past the staff and rushed inside, his eyes wild and red. He grabbed Claire, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe. "I was wrong, Claire. I swear I was wrong. I was drunk. I thought she was you."
Claire let him hold her, her gaze drifting to the wilting roses outside the window. She remembered her father, holding her mother in the same desperate way after each affair, promising it would be the last time. She had always believed she would be different.
Evan was on his best behavior for the next two years.
He turned down every party, making his life a simple loop of training and coming home to Claire.
When she was hospitalized for a recurring stomach issue, he stayed by her bedside, refusing to sleep for three days, a rough scruff of a beard shadowing his jaw.
Even the doctors commented they had never seen a man so devoted.
The day she was discharged, the sun was warm and bright.
"Evan," she said suddenly, "let's get married."
He stared at her, stunned, before a look of pure joy broke across his face. He scooped her into his arms, spinning her around and laughing like a child.
The wedding preparations were halfway complete when her phone rang. It was an unknown number. When she answered, she heard Maya's voice. "Claire, you've already taken my father from me. Are you going to take Evan, too?"
A moment later, an address appeared in her messages, an old, run-down apartment complex on the edge of the city.
Standing outside the door, Claire felt the warmth drain from her body.
Maya's tearful voice drifted from inside. "Are you really going to marry her?"
Then came Evan's voice, as gentle and familiar as when he spoke to Claire, perhaps even more so. "Of course not. Getting close to her was always about helping you get back what's yours. Your identity and your inheritance.
"We grew up together. You saved my life. I would betray the whole world before I betrayed you."
The world around Claire shattered. The sweetness of the cakes, the warmth of his hands on her ankle, and the sleepless nights by her hospital bed twisted into sharp, cruel blades that plunged straight into her heart.
She raised a hand, her nails digging into her palm until the pain was a grounding, clarifying force.
She pushed the door open, and the two inside bolted upright, their faces draining of all color.
Claire stood there, her cold eyes scanning their embrace with utter disdain. "Evan, the engagement is off."
Panic seized Evan. He lunged forward, reaching for Claire. "Claire..."
"Get lost."
Claire sidestepped his touch, declaring coldly, "As of today, we are done. If you ever show your face to me again, I won't hesitate to drag you back to the gutter I found you in."
She turned, her back ramrod straight, and walked away without a second glance.
A gust of wind from the open door blew into the hallway, making her eyes sting. But no tears fell. She was Claire Stark. She could pull a man from hell, and she could personally send him right back.