The Ruined Heiress's Vengeful Comeback
Chapter 8
Collette walked into her suite.
Before she could even turn around to close the door, a large, aggressive hand slammed against the wood.
Hartwell pushed his way into the room, bringing a storm of violent, freezing energy with him.
He slammed the door shut behind him and locked it with a loud click.
Collette's shoulders flinched at the noise, but she instantly forced her back straight and turned to face him.
Hartwell backed her up.
He stepped forward until the back of Collette's knees hit the edge of the mattress. His massive frame cast a dark, suffocating shadow over her.
His hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist. His grip was so tight she felt her bones grinding together.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Hartwell hissed, his voice vibrating with rage.
Collette didn't struggle. She just looked at him with dead, empty eyes.
"Mr. Lara," she said, her voice completely flat and professional. "I think we need to review the terms of our Non-Disclosure Agreement."
Hartwell's eyebrows pulled together. Confusion mixed with his fury.
Collette let out a cold laugh. "The contract states I have to fulfill my duties as your partner. It doesn't say I have to play along in your little threesome."
The words acted like gasoline on a fire.
Hartwell grabbed her shoulders and violently shoved her backward onto the soft mattress.
He leaned over her, planting his hands on either side of her head, trapping her completely. His chest heaved with heavy, angry breaths.
He let out a dark, mocking laugh.
"Who do you think you are?" Hartwell sneered, his eyes filled with cruelty. "You are a distraction I bought with my money. You have no right to question what I do."
The words drove a rusty blade straight into Collette's chest.
But she didn't even blink.
She stared right back at him, her lips curving into a cheap, seductive smile.
"You're right," she whispered. "I'm just a toy who wants your money. So, do me a favor, sugar daddy. Next time you want to touch me, wash your hands first."
Dirty. The implication hit him again.
Hartwell's last thread of sanity snapped.
He pushed himself off the bed violently.
He spun around and kicked the stainless steel medical trash can next to the wall.
The metal crashed against the floor with a deafening bang. Trash scattered everywhere, a perfect reflection of the ruined state of their relationship.
Hartwell pointed a shaking finger at her. His jaw was locked so tight his teeth ground together.
"You are unbelievable, Collette," he spat out.
He turned around, grabbed the door handle, and ripped the door open. He stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls shook.
The room fell into a dead silence.
Collette's body went completely limp. She collapsed back against the pillows.
A single, hot tear finally broke free from her eyelashes and soaked into the pillowcase.
She took a shaky breath, forcing herself to sit up. She reached for the call button on the nightstand to get someone to clean up the mess.
Before her fingers could press the button, two sharp knocks echoed against the door. K. M. Sterling stepped into the room, his expression a mask of professional detachment. He didn't comment on the overturned trash can or her tear-stained face. He simply walked over to the bedside table and placed a thick, brown envelope with the gold foil logo of the CFDA next to the lamp. "This is from Mr. Lara. He arranged it for you," Sterling stated flatly, then turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Collette's heart stopped.
She pulled the envelope out. It wasn't sealed.
She slid the papers out. It was the official entry confirmation for the elite design competition-the exact spot she had been willing to sell her soul for at the banquet.
At the bottom of the page, under the "Sponsor" section, was Hartwell Lara's aggressive, sprawling signature. The black ink was barely dry.
Collette stared at the signature.
Her brain flashed back to his retreating back.
He hadn't just come to the hospital to see Isabell. He had used his power to get her the spot, and he had come to her room to give it to her.
Collette gripped the paper. Her knuckles turned white.
Large, heavy tears dropped from her eyes, hitting the paper and smudging the black ink.
Her chest violently heaved as the walls she had built around her heart began to crack.
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