The sharp, explosive sound of shattering glass violently sprayed across the interior of the luxury sedan.
Richard's massive, clenched fist had just smashed directly into the thick, bulletproof partition separating the passenger cabin from the driver's seat. An ugly, spiderweb-like crack instantly fractured the reinforced glass.
In the driver's seat, David completely froze, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. He didn't dare turn his head even a fraction of an inch.
The oxygen inside the back of the Maybach plummeted to an absolute, suffocating zero.
Clara pressed her spine completely flat against the heavy car door. Her heart was hammering so brutally against her ribcage she thought it might actually crack her sternum. She could physically feel the thick, suffocating aura of pure, unadulterated murder radiating from the man sitting just inches away from her.
"Anthony Evans," Richard hissed. His voice was incredibly low, but the lethal vibration physically threatened to rupture Clara's eardrums.
Richard violently twisted his massive frame toward her. In one blindingly fast, predatory motion, his large, calloused hand shot out and clamped forcefully around Clara's lower jaw. The grip wasn't tight enough to crush her bones, but it was absolute, ironclad, and completely locked her head in place.
"You are absolutely unbelievable, Clara," Richard growled. His eyes as pitch-black and fathomless as the bottom of the ocean trench bored straight through her skull. "The pathetic, desperate little girl weeping hysterically about her ruined life just this morning. Begging for my mercy with a perfectly fabricated suicide note. It was all a cheap, disgusting tactic to completely conceal your true identity."
Clara stared directly into the abyss of his eyes without blinking. Her hands balled into tight fists against the luxurious red velvet of her evening gown.
"Take your hands off me," Clara hissed, her voice dripping with lethal venom.
Instead of letting go, Richard aggressively leaned closer. His heavy, furious breath washed over her pale face.
"You actively weaponized my desperate need for a wife to physically infiltrate my family," Richard snarled, the muscles in his jaw ticking violently. "You deliberately blackmailed me for unrestricted access to the Apex archives. You explicitly planned to destroy my empire from the inside out."
"You built your own damn trap, Richard!" Clara fired back, her suppressed courage violently exploding. She aggressively swatted his massive hand away from her jaw. "You desperately needed a mindless, obedient puppet to save your precious throne. And I desperately needed the truth about my father's brutal murder. We simply used each other. Do not sit there and pretend you are the innocent victim in this transaction!"
The brutal honesty of her words violently slapped Richard's colossal ego. His sharp jaw clenched so hard the thick veins in his neck popped aggressively against his tailored collar.
To Richard Sterling, betrayal was the single, absolute unforgivable sin. He had operated under the assumption that he possessed complete, omnipotent control over the chessboard. But this penniless barista had flawlessly played him since the exact millisecond they signed that contract in the rain.
"Do you honestly believe my uncle Arthur was protecting you by deliberately exposing your identity at that table?" Richard let out a dry, cynical laugh that completely failed to reach his dead eyes. "He just violently threw you into the lion's den, Clara. He wants to sit back and watch me tear you to pieces."
Clara swallowed a hard lump of terror. She knew he was entirely correct. Arthur had intentionally ignited this war. The old phantom had turned Clara into a live grenade and casually tossed her directly into Richard's lap.
"So, what exactly are you going to do about it?" Clara challenged recklessly, her hazel eyes blazing. "Are you going to murder me tonight? Send me to the grave right next to my father?"
Richard's dark eyes narrowed into lethal slits. "Death is far too merciful a punishment for a lying parasite like you."
The sedan finally slammed to a halt in the sixty-fourth-floor subterranean garage.
Richard threw his door open and marched toward the private elevator, leaving Clara to practically sprint in her heels just to keep up with his massive strides. The moment they stepped inside the sprawling, monochromatic penthouse, Richard violently tore off his suit jacket and threw it across the room.
"You will absolutely not be permitted to wander freely around this residence. You will not possess a single fraction of a second to rifle through my study or contact whatever pathetic allies you have on the outside," Richard declared, his tone absolute and final.
Clara stared at his broad back, her chest heaving. "What exactly does that mean?"
Richard slowly turned around. His devastatingly handsome face had completely reverted back to an impenetrable wall of solid ice. The tyrannical CEO had aggressively reasserted control over his blinding fury.
"Starting tomorrow morning, you will no longer be a decorative, useless trophy wife in this house. You are going to work. Inside my corporate headquarters. As my personal executive assistant."
Clara's eyes went wide with sheer shock. "What? You can't do that. I have absolutely zero corporate experience."
"You possess a vast wealth of experience in lying, manipulating, and blackmailing. That is more than enough qualification for the corporate world," Richard cut her off coldly. "Your desk will be placed directly inside my private office. Exactly fifteen feet away from mine. You will breathe only when I permit you to breathe. You will leave the room only when I am physically watching you. You will never, ever leave my line of sight, Clara. I am going to personally ensure you live in a suffocating hell of absolute surveillance."
Clara's heart pounded violently against her ribs. Richard had just deployed the most lethal, suffocating strategy in the book: keep your enemies directly in front of your eyes.
The following morning, the towering, eighty-story Sterling Tower welcomed Clara with a terrifying, suffocating atmosphere.
Wearing a sharply tailored, custom black blazer that had been aggressively expedited the night before, Clara walked silently behind Richard as they cut through the sprawling, white marble lobby. Hundreds of elite corporate employees immediately bowed their heads in deep respect, though their eyes frantically stole curious, judgmental glances.
The explosive news of their CEO's lightning-fast marriage had already completely saturated the media, but seeing the new Mrs. Sterling wearing a standard employee access badge and trailing submissively behind her husband ignited thousands of vicious whispers.