Tessa's POV
"And you are?" I asked, meeting her gaze without flinching.
Her brows lifted in mock surprise, as though I had just said something ridiculous.
"Oh, Tessa," she said, smiling in a way that didn't reach her eyes, "you're being a clumsy fool all of a sudden. I do hope that accident didn't damage your memory too badly."
She tilted her head slightly.
"I'm Clarisse… Hardin's first lover."
The word lingered in the air.
Not wife.
Not partner.
Lover.
Mistress.
Right.
Act normal. Don't expose yourself.
"I wish you never woke up."
The voice was smaller this time, but far more venomous.
I looked down.
The little girl—Carolyn—was staring at me with open hatred, her tiny face twisted in a way that no child's should ever be.
"You should have died in that accident instead of coming back," she added, her voice trembling with anger. "I hate you, Tessa."
"Carolyn," Clarisse said lightly, though there was no real reprimand in her tone, "she's still your mother."
"Mother?" the girl snapped, her lips curling. "Not anymore. I only have one mother, and it's you—not this piece of trash."
Clarisse's smile softened, pleased.
"Of course, my little angel," she murmured, cupping the girl's cheek.
Then her gaze returned to me, sharper now, more deliberate.
"You'll have to forgive me," she continued smoothly, her voice dropping into something almost conversational as she began circling me slowly, like a predator toying with prey, "for stepping into your place so soon… but honestly, it was inevitable."
She stopped just behind me.
"Soon enough, I'll be the official daughter-in-law of the Voss family," she whispered near my ear, her tone dripping with confidence. "Once you sign those divorce papers Hardin sent."
My stomach tightened.
"As for the others—Monica, Selena…" she added casually, straightening as she moved back into my line of sight, "don't concern yourself with them. I'll deal with every single one of them once you're gone."
Her smile widened.
"I don't share. Especially not with women who were never meant to matter."
Then she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering into something crueler.
"Do you know what I'm expecting from you today?"
I said nothing.
"That's right," she answered herself, her smile turning vicious. "Pack your things. Prepare to leave. Because once that will is read and you realize Rowan left you with absolutely nothing—not a single cent—you'll walk out of this house and never come back. And I'll make sure of that."
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
My fingers curled slightly at my sides as her words settled deep, not just as an insult—but as a warning.
First Nancy and Leo.
Now Clarisse.
Different faces.
Same kind of poison.
I lifted my gaze slowly.
"Don't worry, Clarisse," I said calmly, my voice steady despite the storm brewing underneath. "I won't be a distraction… like some people are."
Her expression snapped.
"Watch your words, Tessa," she hissed.
"Or what?" I asked.
That was all it took.
Her hand shot up, fast and sharp, aiming straight for my face—
—but I caught her wrist midair.
The impact stung slightly, but I didn't let go.
Instead, I twisted her arm behind her back just enough to make her stiffen, then leaned closer, my voice dropping into something cold and unfamiliar, even to myself.
"Next time," I whispered into her ear, "choose the right person you want to play dirty with… because it's not me anymore."
I shoved her forward.
She stumbled, barely catching herself before falling, her hand flying to her hair as she tried to recover what little dignity she had left.
Her eyes burned into mine.
"Don't think you've won," she snapped. "I'll deal with you worthless bitch."
Then, as if remembering something, she pulled out a journal and threw it at my feet.
"I'm tired of trying to unlock your stupid book," she said dismissively. "It's yours anyway."
And just like that, she turned and walked out, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
Before I could even process everything, one of the maids stepped forward nervously.
"Ma'am… it's time."
I bent down, picked up the journal, and the moment my fingers brushed against it, I heard a soft click—the lock releasing instantly.
Fingerprint.
Of course.
I flipped it open as I followed the maids out, my eyes scanning the first few lines while walking through a hallway so grand it almost felt unreal, with high ceilings and walls lined with priceless paintings that seemed to watch my every step.
By the time we reached the dining room, the air had already thickened with anticipation.
Every single head turned.
My heels clicked softly against the polished floor as I stepped in.
"Here," I said, handing the journal to one of the maids. "Keep it safe."
And then I saw him.
Hardin.
Standing by the bar like he had all the time in the world.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair falling just right. A sharp jawline that made him look carved rather than born, and eyes that caught the chandelier light in a way that made them seem almost unreal.
He watched me.
Not warmly.
Not coldly.
Just… calculating.
"Well, well, well," Clarisse's voice cut through the silence, her eyes gleaming with poorly concealed malice. "Look who finally decided to show up."
She rolled her eyes, her entire expression dripping with disgust.
At the head of the table, Amelia sat like a queen awaiting her moment, her red lips curved in anticipation.
"The real fun begins when she hears for herself that Rowan left her with nothing," she said, her tone laced with satisfaction. "I can't wait to have this worthless trash thrown out of my house."
Right on cue, the lawyer entered.
"Apologies for the delay," he said calmly. "The review took longer than expected."
Amelia's gaze snapped to him instantly.
"Oh, I'm glad you're here," she replied, lifting her glass. "I was beginning to suffocate from how unbearable this wait has been."
A chill ran down my spine.
I looked away, masking my expression as if none of this mattered.
"The late Chairman Rowan personally hired me two months ago to handle the arrangements of his estate," the lawyer began, placing the documents on the table. "I received the finalized details just yesterday."
Hardin didn't move.
He simply stood there, sipping his wine, his gaze still locked on me like he was trying to read something beneath the surface.
"Statement of the gifted property," the lawyer continued.
The room went still.
"He left a total of $70,525,950,090 dollars…"
A pause.
"To Ms. Tessa Voss—his daughter-in-law."
Clarisse gasped.
Loudly.
"He also left thirty-five real estate properties valued at $120 billion dollars to Ms Tessa… along with tangible assets totaling $190 billion US dollars."
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Unbelieving.
Everyone leaned forward slightly, greed flickering openly in their eyes.
"Beneficiary—Tessa—"
"Enough," Amelia snapped sharply. "Stop dragging it out. Just tell us—what do we get after her share?"
The lawyer nodded once.
"I have yet to receive the full details regarding his overseas assets," he said carefully, "but based on what is currently documented…"
He looked up.
"I don't believe there is anything left."
For a second—
no one breathed.
Then every head turned toward me.
"Wait… what?"