Chapter 1

Four years ago, I was forced to leave him because of a setup.

Four years later, he was a billionaire, and he ground me into the dirt, right alongside his fiancée.

"This million dollars, it buys you for a year as my mistress." He stuffed the check into my collar with a sneer. "Service me well in bed."

For the sake of my grandmother in the ICU, I became his secret lover.

Until he crushed my right hand with his own, until my grandmother died cold and alone in the morgue. That's when I began to hate him with everything I had.

I came to despise him completely.

I vanished completely from his world.

But he went mad searching for me everywhere.

When he finally found me, I was in a wedding dress, arm in arm with my new husband, and I said to him.

"Who are you again?"

Claire's POV

"I heard Mr. Barrett gave that East Coast property to the Sterling family daughter as an engagement gift."

"That's not all. They haven't even officially announced the engagement yet, but that pink diamond on her finger could buy ten of my lives."

The private room was thick with smoke, the clinking of glasses rising and falling in waves.

I kept my head down as I poured drinks, trying to minimize my presence as much as possible.

My wrist suddenly trembled, and a few drops of red wine splattered onto the pristine white custom tablecloth.

"What kind of service is this?" someone scolded disapprovingly.

I grabbed napkins to wipe it up, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught a pair of dark, unreadable eyes.

Damien Barrett sat in the seat of honor, a half-burned cigarette between his fingers. Through the curling smoke, he watched me with something between a smile and contempt.

His gaze was cold as ice, tinged with mockery and disdain.

As if watching an ant struggling pathetically.

"I'm sorry." I lowered my eyes, my voice dry.

The person beside him wanted to make more of it, trying to curry favor with this top billionaire, but Damien flicked his cigarette ash and spoke casually:

"Forget it."

His voice was low and deep, carrying the lazy quality of someone long accustomed to power. "Miss Davis is an old acquaintance. Let's give her some face."

The words "old acquaintance" were bitten off with particular emphasis, dripping with sarcasm.

The atmosphere in the room instantly became strange.

Everyone's eyes darted between me and Damien.

Who didn't know that Damien Barrett's most hated person was me?

Four years ago, when he was at his lowest point-exiled abroad by the Barrett family-I took a million dollars from his rival and broke up with him on the spot.

I still remember that rainy night when he grabbed my wrist with red-rimmed eyes and asked if I had any heart at all.

What did I say then?

I said, "Damien Barrett, you can't even afford to buy me a handbag right now. Why should I suffer with you?"

That was the last time we saw each other.

Now, he was the high-and-mighty head of the Barrett empire, about to marry the well-matched Miss Sterling.

And I was just an employee here, smiling and pouring drinks for a three-thousand-dollar commission.

"Since Mr. Barrett has spoken up for you, why don't you toast him?"

Someone started jeering, pushing a full glass of liquor in front of me.

My stomach churned, but this deal was important to the company-and even more important to my grandmother lying in the ICU.

I picked up the glass, forcibly suppressing my trembling. "Mr. Barrett, I toast to you."

Damien didn't move.

He leaned back in his chair, his slender fingers tapping the table absently, his gaze sliding from my face to my hands, finally stopping at my cheap employee badge.

"Claire Davis."

He suddenly called my name, his voice cold to the bone.

"This drink, you could afford it four years ago. Now, do you think you're worthy of it?"