The Heiress's Second Chance: A Billionaire Revenge Romance

Morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the STK International building, casting a golden glow across Claire Hamilton's office. Her slender fingers moved deftly across the keyboard as she confirmed the final details for tonight's third wedding anniversary dinner. "Le Bernardin, reservation confirmed for 7 PM," Claire Wilson murmured to her phone's memo app. Her beige business suit complemented her elegant professional image, and a sweet smile played on her lips. Three years, and her love for James remained as fresh as the day they met. Or so she thought. "Claire." Isabella leaned against the doorframe, her expression hesitant. "Do you have a minute?" Looking up at her friend's troubled face, Claire felt a flicker of unease. But she quickly composed herself, offering a professional smile. " Of course. Actually, I wanted to go over next week's client meeting materials with you anyway. " Isabella closed the office door and paused before speaking. "Have you... noticed anything different about James lately?" Claire's fingers froze on the keyboard. " Different? What do you mean? " "Well..." Isabella sat down in the visitor's chair, choosing her words carefully. " I've been seeing him with Vivian Winchester a lot lately. Not just in work meetings, but in... private settings too. " "Vivian?" Claire laughed lightly. " She's the VP of Marketing. It's normal for her to work closely with the Market Department. " Isabella looked at her friend with concern. " But you know how the Winchester family is... Remember last Thursday when James said he had to work late? " "Yes, what about it?" "The meeting was canceled, but I saw him and Vivian at La Grenouille that evening." Isabella hesitated. "They looked... intimate." Claire's smile froze. La Grenouille was where she and James had their first date. "You must be mistaken," she forced herself to stay calm. " James isn't that kind of person. Besides, today is our wedding anniversary. He specifically cleared his evening schedule. " Isabella seemed to want to say more but ultimately just squeezed her friend's hand. "Claire, I'm just looking out for you. As your friend, I don't want to see you get hurt. " "Thank you, Bella." Claire squeezed back. "But I trust James." Despite her words, Isabella's warning had planted a seed of doubt. During the client meeting at noon, Claire found herself constantly distracted. Vivian's perfume seemed particularly strong today—an expensive French fragrance. James had been mentioning her name frequently lately, with a certain reverence in his tone. "Mrs. Hamilton?" The client's voice snapped her back to reality. Claire quickly regained her composure, showcasing her professional side: "I apologize, you were talking about marketing strategy..." After the meeting, Claire stood alone by the window. Manhattan's sky had unexpectedly filled with leaden clouds, as if foreshadowing what was to come. She pulled out her phone—still no answer from James. "He must be in a meeting," she reassured herself, deciding to visit Bergdorf Goodman to prepare for the evening. The sales associate enthusiastically recommended a navy blue evening gown. "This would look stunning on you—elegant yet sensual." Claire studied her reflection. Twenty-six, career on the rise, seemingly perfect marriage. Yet why did she feel this hollow ache in her chest? While paying, she caught a glimpse of Vivian in the jewelry section upstairs. The tall figure was trying on an expensive diamond necklace, with a man beside her... Claire's heart clenched. That suited silhouette was all too familiar. "James?" The name almost escaped her lips. But when the man turned around—it wasn't her husband. Claire felt relief, yet somehow also disappointment. Leaving the store, a light rain began to fall. Claire instructed her driver to head directly back to their Upper East Side apartment. In the elevator, she caught a whiff of that perfume—Vivian's signature scent. "Impossible," she shook her head, telling herself not to be paranoid. But as the elevator doors opened, the click of high heels and muffled laughter drifted down the hallway. Claire's hands trembled as she inserted her key. The door opened slightly, and familiar voices filtered through. "...so it's settled then? Remember to handle..."James's voice. "Don't worry, I'll take care of everything. But are you sure about this? " A woman's languid voice. Claire pushed open the door. The carefully wrapped anniversary gift slipped from her hands. In the living room, her husband had his arms around Vivian Winchester's waist. Time seemed to freeze. "Claire!" James hastily let go of Vivian, but her perfume still clung to his shirt. That overwhelming French fragrance—so different from Claire's subtle signature scent—now cut like a knife through her last illusions. Vivian smoothed her dress, the hem shifting with her movement. Claire recognized it—the same dress she'd seen Vivian trying on at Bergdorf's last week. She'd naively dismissed it as coincidence then. Now, those meaningful glances and calculated encounters all made perfect sense. "It's your wedding anniversary today, isn't it?" Vivian's red lips curved into a triumphant smile, her gaze lingering possessively on James. "What a... special surprise." Claire felt nauseous. Three years of marriage, countless intimate nights, all suddenly rendered worthless in his eyes. She remembered how just last week they had cuddled on this very couch, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, foolishly believing this was her forever. Now, those tender moments felt poisoned, each memory tainted by betrayal, every touch contaminated by deception. Claire felt an icy chill spread through her body. She forced herself to take a deep breath, her voice surprisingly steady: "Miss Winchester is right—quite a special surprise indeed. I'm curious, how many times have you enacted this scene in our home?" "Darling, you're misunderstanding," James attempted to explain, "Vivian and I were just discussing work..." "By the door of our bedroom? With your arms around her waist? " Claire let out a cold laugh. "James, since when did you become so dedicated to your job?" Vivian sighed softly: " Claire, you're a smart woman. Business is like warfare—some things are... inevitable. " She arched an eyebrow. "What the Winchester family can offer James is beyond anything you could provide." "Is that so?" Claire met James's eyes directly. " So this is your choice? Selling our marriage to climb the Winchester family ladder?" James finally dropped his facade: "Claire, don't be naive! You think you could maintain your position at STK without the Winchester family's support? How far do you think you can go on your own?" "I see." Claire suddenly smiled. "So the dinners at La Grenouille, the late-night calls, all those mysterious overtime hours... were all special attention for Miss Winchester?" "You've been following me?" James asked angrily. "No need to follow." Claire said calmly. " You both wore the answers on your faces. I was just... selectively blind. " Vivian elegantly rose to her feet: " Well, since we're being honest, let me be frank. James needs a partner who can advance his career, not... a mere market department employee. " She gave Claire a meaningful look. "Do you understand what I mean?" Claire walked slowly to the sofa and picked up her purse: "Perfectly clear." She looked at James. " The divorce papers will be delivered to your office tomorrow. I hope the Winchester family keeps their promises and gives you everything you want. " "Claire..." James seemed about to say something. "Enough. " Claire cut him off. " Our three-year marriage ends here. Thank you both for helping me see things clearly. " She turned toward the door, then paused: "Oh, Miss Winchester." She looked back with a polite smile. "That perfume suits you, though it smells rather... cheap." Stepping out of the apartment building, Manhattan was already shrouded in darkness. Claire stood on the sidewalk, letting the cold rain soak through her clothes. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number. "Bella... where are you?" Her voice finally trembled. Twenty minutes later, Isabella's car pulled up. Her friend wordlessly pulled her into a tight embrace: "It's okay, everything will be alright." Claire leaned on her friend's shoulder, finally letting her tears fall. But she knew this wasn't the end—it was the beginning of a new life. In the bustling Manhattan streets, a defiant soul was about to rise from the ashes.