Chapter 3
After Claire was discharged, Dylan convened a core meeting at Stark Industries. Citing her need to recuperate, he transferred a major project she had personally spearheaded to Maya.
Claire sat beside him, her fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the polished table, and wore a blank mask.
She knew Maya didn't have the skills to handle it. The person pulling the strings behind the scenes could only be Evan.
Every connection she had shared and every business strategy she had taught Evan was now being weaponized. He was using her own lessons to strip her of power for Maya, ensuring that every step of his betrayal twisted the knife already buried in Claire's chest.
Even the boxing club Claire had founded began to suffer. Key fighters were poached, and members started canceling their contracts en masse. Her assistant's investigation led directly to Evan's new consulting firm.
Claire stared at the evidence, her hands trembling. She recognized the terms of the offers used to lure her people away.
They were the exact future plans for the club she had once shared with Evan during their late-night talks. Now, her dreams were being used to destroy her life's work.
She clenched the documents, and when she looked up, her eyes were devoid of any remaining warmth, leaving only a chilling emptiness. She instructed her assistant to terminate every contract associated with the traitors.
That night, a torrential downpour swept across the city. Claire was driving to the club to handle the final closing procedures when her car broke down on a deserted road.
Rain hammered against the windshield, blurring the world outside. On pure instinct, she pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over Evan's number.
Even with her heart bruised and bleeding, her muscle memory remained cruelly unchanged, reaching out for the very person who had destroyed her.
The phone rang three times before it was answered. But the voice that came through was Maya's, dripping with sweetness. "Claire? It's so late. Is something wrong? Evan is just making me some soup to help with my hangover."
In the background, Claire could hear Evan's muffled voice. "Who is it?"
"It's nothing," Maya chirped back. "Just a nuisance call." Then, back into the phone, she hissed, "If it's not an emergency, you shouldn't disturb us, okay?"
Claire said nothing. She ended the call and shoved the phone back into her pocket.
She pushed open the car door and stepped out into the deluge, letting the icy rain soak her to the bone. She walked for two hours.
Rainwater trailed down her face, mixing with tears.
By the time she reached home, she was drenched and running a high fever. She collapsed in the entryway just after walking through the door. It wasn't until the housekeeper found her that she was rushed to the hospital.
Evan heard the news the next morning. He left a meeting mid-sentence and tore to the hospital. In the room, Claire had just woken up, and her face looked as pale as the sheets she lay on.
He burst in, breathless and frantic. "Claire, are you okay? How are you feeling?"
She ignored him completely, fixing her gaze on her assistant. "Please escort this gentleman out," she said coldly. "I don't wish to see him."
Evan's breath caught in his throat, the strength draining from his body. The desperate concern in his eyes meant nothing in the face of her icy dismissal. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Defeated, he turned and left.
*****
Not long after, Claire's company suffered a catastrophic blow. Core trade secrets were leaked, partners terminated their contracts, and the financial losses were staggering. All evidence pointed to Evan.
Claire confronted him in the vast, empty boxing gym. There was a last flicker of hope in her eyes, a desperate wish that he wasn't the one trying to utterly destroy her.
"Was it you?" she asked.
Shame washed over Evan, his knuckles turning white as he fisted his hands. He was haunted by the image of Maya crying, the simple piece of bread that had saved his life, and the unyielding oath he had made to never abandon her.
He chose silence.
To Claire, his silence was a confession.
The hope in her eyes was extinguished in an instant. Without another word, she threw the file of evidence at his chest.
She shouldered the multi-million dollar loss herself. To protect the company's foundation, she sold her sports cars, her jewelry, and even the apartment that held so many of their memories.
She painstakingly filled the financial hole, never once reaching out to Evan.
The golden championship belt he had given her was tossed into the back of a drawer, forgotten.
The relentless stress took a severe toll on her already fragile health. One evening, while working in her study, she was seized by a violent coughing fit, spitting a spray of blood across the documents on her desk.
A visit to the hospital confirmed her worst fears: a tumor in her stomach, with a high probability of being malignant.
Holding the report, she felt unnervingly calm. No word to her assistant and to her family. She moved through her meetings like clockwork, but the flicker of fatigue in her eyes told a far darker story.