Chapter 4

THE TRANSFORMATION

~CLAIRE'S POV~

Three days.

Three days of wedding videos and photo albums scattered across my bedroom floor like broken dreams.

Three days of Richard's cologne still clinging to his abandoned shirts, three days of drowning in wine and self-pity.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Thirty-seven messages. All from me to Richard.

"Why did you do this to me?"

"Did you ever love me?"

"Please, just talk to me."

The latter ones were different. Ugly words I had never imagined saying, curses that tasted like poison on my tongue.

All unanswered. All pathetic.

Eleanor's name flashed on the screen. I let it go to voicemail like all the others.

On the fifth day, I woke up squeezing Richard's shirt to my chest, the fabric damp with tears. I stared at it for a long moment before hurling it across the room.

‘Enough.’

I stumbled to the bathroom, catching my reflection in the mirror. Hollow cheeks. Dead eyes. Broken woman.

I was about to cry again when something inside me snapped.

"No," I whispered to my reflection. "No more."

Crying wouldn't bring back my life. Wouldn't bring back Richard. And as much as I hated him for destroying me, I missed him so desperately it felt like dying.

That's when I understood. He had known exactly how much I loved him. And he had used that love as a weapon.

I hated him. I wanted him to suffer exactly as much as I was suffering.

But how?

The answer came to me like divine inspiration.

First, I would make him fall in love with me again. Because revenge was sweetest when it came from the hands of someone who'd been worshipped.

I was going to make Richard Blackwood worship me.

Right before I brought him to his knees.

I grabbed scissors from the drawer, my hands shaking as I brought them to my hair. One cut.

Then another. Long chestnut locks fell to the floor until I was left with a sharp bob that made my eyes look bigger, more mysterious.

I stepped into the shower and washed away five days of grief.

When I appeared, I barely recognized myself. The broken woman was gone. In her place stood someone harder.

Someone dangerous.

I spent the next hour cleaning up the destruction I had caused, throwing away the gifts Richard and Monica had given me over the years.

Each item that hit the trash felt like shedding old skin.

**********************

My parents' small apartment felt suffocating after the penthouse I had shared with Richard. I sat at their dining table, eating in silence while they stared at me from across the room.

"Have you been eating at all?" my mother asked, her voice sharp with criticism. "You look like a skeleton."

I kept chewing, ignoring her words. I wouldn't let her affect me. I needed a clear head to plan my revenge.

"Slow down," my father said gently. "Nobody's going to take your food away."

Two hours later, I stood to leave.

"You should visit more often," my father said at the door.

"Fix your appearance next time," my mother added. "You're not the first woman to get divorced."

I scoffed. "You never fail to remind me what a shitty mother you are."

"At least I could keep a man!" she yelled as I walked away.

I got into my car, hands shaking with rage, when my phone buzzed. Richard's lawyer. Something about finalizing the divorce and alimony.

I agreed to meet him tomorrow.

Time to face the man who had destroyed me.

*********************

I stood outside Blackwood Industries, staring up at the glass tower that had once felt like home. My hands clenched around my purse as I forced myself through the revolving doors.

The thirteenth floor. Richard's domain.

Janet, his assistant, gave me a pitying look. "He'll see you in a moment. Please, have a seat."

Thirty minutes. He kept me waiting thirty minutes like I was nothing more than an inconvenience.

"You can go in now," Janet finally said.

My hand hovered over the door handle. This was it. The moment I faced the man who had called me worthless, pathetic, and disgusting.

I stepped inside.

Richard stood with his back to me, reviewing documents. Even from behind, he was devastating. Sea-blue shirt rolled up to his elbows, black vest, and trousers that fit him like sin.

His dark hair was messy, like he'd just rolled out of bed.

Or out of Monica's bed.

He must have sensed me because he turned, and our eyes met across the room.

My heart slammed against my ribs. No. This couldn't be happening. I was supposed to be over him. I was supposed to be stronger than this.

But my body betrayed me, heat flooding my cheeks as he took in my appearance with those ice-blue eyes.

"You look well," he said, moving to the couch in his office. "What's with the new look?"

He gestured for me to sit. "Calvin's running late. Work emergency. But he'll be here soon."

‘Alone with Richard.’ My pulse hammered in my throat.

"Claire," he said my name in that low, seductive tone that should have disgusted me but instead sent shivers down my spine.

"You know I hate it when you prove stubborn. Come take your seat."

And just like that, like the pathetic fool I had always been, my body moved at his command.

Days of planning revenge, of claiming I had moved on, of promising myself I was stronger—all of it crumbled the moment he spoke to me like he owned me.

Because despite everything, some traitorous part of me still belonged to him.

I sat across from him, my hands folded in my lap to hide their trembling.

"So," Richard said, leaning back with casual dominance. "Ready to sign the papers and move on with your life?"

‘Move on.’ Like three years of marriage were just paperwork to be filed away.

"Yes," I lied, my voice steadier than I felt.

He studied me for a long moment, and I swore I saw something flicker in his eyes. Regret? Longing? Or was I just seeing what I desperately wanted to see?

"Good," he said finally. "Because Monica and I are planning the wedding for next month. We want this settled before then."

The words felt like a strong hit, but I kept a calm face. Inside, I began to feel something cold and calculating.

‘Next month.’

They were planning their wedding for next month, and here I was, still pathetically hoping for some sign that he had realized his mistake.

"Congratulations," I managed to say.

Richard's eyes sharpened on my face, like he was searching for cracks in my composure. "You're taking this well."

"Why wouldn't I?" I met his gaze directly. "You made it very clear that I was holding you back. That I was... what was it? Useless? Pathetic? Even in bed?"

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "Claire…."

"No, you were right," I interrupted, standing gracefully. "I was all those things. But that version of me is gone now."

I moved toward the door, my hand on the handle when his voice stopped me.

"Where are you going? Calvin isn't here yet."

I looked back at him over my shoulder, channeling every ounce of the woman I was becoming. "Tell Calvin I'll sign whatever needs signing. But I'm done being at your convenience, Richard. That woman you divorced? She's dead."

I opened the door, then paused.

"Oh, and Richard? Give Monica my regards. Tell her I hope she's ready for what she's getting into."

I walked out of his office with my head high, leaving him staring after me in shock.

But as the elevator doors closed, I caught a glimpse of his face in the reflection of the closing doors.

He looked... shaken. Like he had just seen a ghost.

Good. Because the woman who had loved him unconditionally was gone. In her place stood someone who understood that love without respect was worthless.

And Richard Blackwood was about to learn exactly what he had thrown away.

The elevator descended, carrying me away from my old life and toward something new.

Something dangerous.

Something that would make him rue the day he had called me pathetic.

The game was about to begin.