He Broke My Heart, My Family Broke His Empire Chapter 01

He Broke My Heart, My Family Broke His Empire Chapter 01

When the woman named Felicity threw a glass of red wine at me, all of Boston was waiting for me to lose my mind.

After all, for the past four years, I’d personally clawed and slapped every woman who’d tried to steal my husband.

But this time, I just watched her, my expression calm.

I even smiled.

“Those heels are too thin,” I said. “Boston’s cobblestones are treacherous.”

“I’ll have my assistant bring you another pair.”

My husband, Julian, the ever-lofty heir to the Ashworth dynasty, froze.

He held the woman in his arms and stared at me with a scrutinizing, almost unfamiliar gaze.

He didn’t understand.

He thought he had won their five-year “game” of “training” me.

For five years of our marriage, he had chosen a suitably elegant East Coast socialite to take my place—his Texas wife—at the Ashworth family’s most private Thanksgiving dinner in Nantucket.

He said he was helping me shed my “Texas wildness” and become a proper Mrs. Ashworth.

And I had played my part: the jealous, unhinged wife.

But the game was over.

My five-year pact with my brother, Wyatt, was set to expire this Thanksgiving.

If Julian humiliated me one last time, Wyatt was coming to take me home.

The Calloway family’s patience had run out.

So when Julian fastened the antique Cartier watch that should have been mine onto Felicity’s wrist, I didn’t cry.

When he tossed me a cheap watch as a “reward for behaving,” a clear mockery of my background and taste, I didn’t make a scene.

I just filed the debt away in my mind, line by line.

He didn’t know that every condescending gift, every calculated humiliation, was just more fuel for the fire I planned to burn his family down with.

Felicity was still performing.

She clutched Julian’s arm, tears welling in her eyes. “Clara, I really didn’t mean to…”

Julian instinctively soothed her, then shot me a warning frown, as if telling me not to ruin his evening.

I smoothed the wine-soaked fabric of my dress and stood straight.

“It’s fine,” I said.

“Soon, none of this will have anything to do with you anyway.”

He didn’t grasp my meaning. He just assumed my compliance was for his benefit, a way to make him look good.

I had already texted my brother.

“Wyatt, the five years are up.”

“Come take me home.”

…

My assistant soon arrived with a brand-new pair of Tory Burch flats.

I waved her off, bending down to change Felicity’s shoes myself.

I glanced at the wrist bearing the antique Cartier, then at her other, bare one. I took off the cheap watch Julian had tossed me like a bone and fastened it onto her other wrist.

“Something modern like this is better suited for a young woman,” I said calmly, as if discussing the weather. “When you go to Nantucket for Thanksgiving with the Ashworth elders, wearing a watch on each wrist will make you look… well-equipped.”

Felicity clearly hadn’t expected that. A flicker of panic crossed her face.

Julian’s expression turned thunderous. He seized my wrist, his grip so tight I thought he might crush the bone.

“Clara Calloway, who gave you permission to give away something I gave you?”

I lifted my head and met his cold stare. My voice was soft, but each word landed with precision.

“She’s hardly an outsider, is she?”

I watched his expression harden before continuing, “You wouldn’t take an outsider to Nantucket for Thanksgiving, would you?”

Julian was momentarily speechless. His eyes grew dark and complicated.

The wine-soaked dress clung to my body, cold and sticky. It was unbearable.

I pulled my arm from his grasp and straightened my shoulders.

“Excuse me. I’m going to change.”

I could feel Julian’s gaze on my back like a pair of daggers.

Only when the bedroom door clicked shut did I let my composure crack. An invisible hand seemed to close around my chest, squeezing so tightly I could barely breathe.

After I changed, my phone screen lit up.

It was a message from my brother, Wyatt.

“Clara, he didn’t take you to Nantucket again this year. You lost the bet. Come home. Texas steak tastes a hell of a lot better than Boston lobster.”

My eyes burned as I stared at the words.

Before I could reply, a pair of cold hands slid around my waist from behind.

Julian pressed his lips to the back of my neck and let out a low, mocking laugh.

“I knew you were faking it. If you really didn’t care, why would you be in here crying?”

I snapped my phone shut before he could see the screen.

“I just realized… how pathetic I’ve looked for the past five years.”

Looking back, it was always me losing control, me consumed by jealousy, me throwing a fit over a position that was never really mine. I hardly recognized myself anymore.

He roughly turned my face toward his and kissed away my tears. It was a punishment, not a comfort, his breath devoid of any warmth.

“So now you finally understand what an embarrassment you’ve been.”

From outside the door, Felicity’s saccharine voice floated in. “Julian? Are you almost done?”

The desire in Julian’s eyes sharpened, laced with a cruel amusement.

“Should I let her in?”

My body went rigid.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he lost interest and let me go. His fingers brushed slowly across my lips, his tone condescending and instructive.

“Being my wife isn’t like being a princess on some Texas ranch, Clara. You need to learn to accept these things.”

“Behave, and maybe I’ll take you to Nantucket next year for Thanksgiving with my parents.”

I watched him turn, wrap his arm around Felicity, and walk away.

I slowly lowered my gaze.

But Julian, we don’t have a next year.