She Rejected the Heir, I Married Him Chapter 08

She Rejected the Heir, I Married Him Chapter 08

The Whitmores were finished.

Julian kept his word.

When the market opened the next morning, several Whitmore Design Group subsidiaries faced debt collection actions and investor class-action lawsuits at the same time.

At three that afternoon, Whitmore Design Group announced it was filing for bankruptcy protection.

The once untouchable Nathaniel became the biggest joke in Alderhaven’s business world.

At four, I left the architecture firm owned by Mercer Capital.

Julian had put me in full charge of the Crescent Properties interior renovation project.

I’d just reached the entrance when a disheveled figure reeking of alcohol burst from the

landscaping.

“Clara!”

Nathaniel.

He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. His shirt hung open at the collar, and his eyes were sunken.

He looked like a gambler abandoned by every director and creditor he’d ever had.

He lunged toward me, but the guards at the entrance immediately pinned him to the ground.

“Let go! I need to see Clara!”

He struggled wildly, staring at me.

“Are you happy now?”

“My family is ruined! I have nothing!”

I looked down at him from the steps.

“Isn’t this what you chose?”

“What I chose?” he roared.

“If you hadn’t latched on to Julian Mercer and used him to destroy me, would I be here?”

“You vicious bitch!”

“All that sweet, obedient crap was an act!”

I listened to his helpless rage without feeling a thing, regarding him with the indifference I’d give a pile of trash.

“Even now, Nathaniel, it’s always someone else’s fault.”

I walked down two steps.

“Was it my fault you tried to make me admit professional negligence to please Vivian?”

“Was it my fault you pushed me into a marriage you thought would be hell?”

“Was it my fault you altered project specifications for your own benefit and destroyed your company’s credibility?”

I looked at him.

“You did this to yourself.”

He froze, teeth clenched, tears mixing with sweat on his face.

“Clara…”

His tone changed abruptly, turning desperate and humble.

“I regret it. All of it.”

“I know you still love me. You loved me for eight years. You can’t just stop.’

“Please forgive me. We can start over.”

The thought was so absurd it was almost funny.

A black Mercedes-Maybach S-Class pulled up at the curb.

The door opened, and Julian Mercer stepped out.

He wore a black trench coat, his presence cold and commanding without a word.

He barely glanced at Nathaniel pinned to the pavement.

Instead, he came straight to me and slipped an arm around my waist.

“Are you done?” he asked quietly.

I nodded. “Yes.”

Nathaniel stared at Julian’s hand on my waist, his eyes burning red.

“Julian Mercer! You’re taking a woman I threw away!”

He shouted like a madman.

Julian finally spared him a glance, as if he were looking at an ant he could crush at any moment.

“You threw her away?”

He gave a soft, contemptuous laugh.

“You’ve misunderstood something, Nathaniel.”

“You didn’t reject her. She rejected you.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but every word drove into Nathaniel like a nail.

“And one more thing.”

Julian leaned down slightly, his eyes icy.

“You don’t get to talk about my wife.”

“Let me hear her name leave your mouth again, and you’ll never find another door in Alderhaven

willing to open for you.”

He turned and guided me toward the car.

Nathaniel’s desperate sobs followed us.

He finally understood he hadn’t merely lost someone he could manipulate.

He’d lost a woman he would never be good enough for again.

The car door closed, cutting off the noise.

I leaned back and let out a long breath.

Eight years.

This time, the break was clean.

Julian turned toward me.

“Feeling better?”

“Much better.”

“Then it’s time to deal with the other one.”

He started the car as casually as if he’d commented on the weather.

I knew who he meant.

Vivian Pembroke.