Shattered Vows, Forged Empire
9.7
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12
Chapters
48.0K
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Billionaire
Revenge
Romance
Thriller
When my fiancé tried to destroy my "worthless" metal lockbox to appease his mistress on a live broadcast, he didn't realize he was tampering with a billion-dollar national treasure. Clara Vance is secretly 'Aurelia', the world's top antiquities authenticator. At her fiancé's elite auction gala, she's falsely accused of stealing a cheap bracelet. Instead of defending her, Julian sides with the influencer who framed her, dragging Clara into a nightmare that will ultimately ruin his empire.
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Chapter 1
The Grand Ballroom of the Thorne Auction House was a masterpiece of gilded excess. Crystal chandeliers the size of small cars dripped from the vaulted ceilings, casting a fractured, icy light over the hundreds of elite guests mingling below. Waiters in pristine white tailcoats circulated with silver trays of champagne, weaving through a sea of bespoke tuxedos and haute couture gowns. It was the social event of the season, a high-stakes playground for billionaires, collectors, and socialites.And Clara Vance wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.Standing near a towering marble pillar near the edge of the room, Clara adjusted her grip on the heavy, matte-black titanium cylinder in her hands. It was roughly the size of a blueprint tube, stark and utilitarian, completely at odds with her simple, unadorned navy slip dress. While the women around her flaunted diamonds that caught the light with every movement, Clara wore no jewelry. She didn’t need to. The real treasure was locked securely inside the biometric cylinder she held against her chest. *Just two more hours,* Clara reminded herself, her analytical mind counting down the minutes. *Two more hours of playing the quiet, unassuming fiancée, and then I can deliver the asset to the vault.*"Well, well. If it isn't the little charity case hiding in the corner."Clara didn't flinch, though a familiar weariness settled over her shoulders. She turned slowly to face the source of the cloying, overly sweet voice. Serena Fox stood a few feet away, her hands perched on her hips. The twenty-three-year-old Junior Appraiser was dressed in a sequined crimson gown that plunged daringly low, a dress that screamed for attention in a room where subtlety was usually the currency of true wealth. Serena was a rising social media influencer, a girl who spent her days taking selfies in the Thorne Auction House vaults and passing off her proximity to wealth as her own. "Good evening, Serena," Clara said, her voice perfectly composed. She kept her posture straight, her grip on the lockbox unwavering. "It's a beautiful gala. Julian has outdone himself.""Don't patronize me, Clara," Serena snapped, stepping closer. The heavy, synthetic scent of her designer perfume washed over Clara. "And don't act like you belong here. We all know Julian only keeps you around out of pity. Look at you. You look like you're heading to a funeral in that cheap rag.""If you're looking for an argument, Serena, you'll have to find someone else," Clara replied calmly, her tone entirely devoid of the emotional reaction Serena was so desperately fishing for. "I'm just here to support Julian.""Support him?" Serena let out a sharp, theatrical laugh that carried over the soft hum of a nearby string quartet. A few heads turned in their direction. Serena noticed the attention immediately and straightened her posture, playing to her impromptu audience. "The only thing you're supporting is your own pathetic lifestyle by leeching off the Thorne family."Clara’s eyes narrowed slightly, but her face remained a mask of polite indifference. "If you'll excuse me, I need to find the coat check."She took a step to her left, intending to bypass the influencer entirely. But Serena sidestepped, blocking Clara’s path. The malicious glint in Serena’s eyes shifted into something sharper, more calculated. She glanced down at Clara’s bare wrists, then looked down at her own. Suddenly, Serena let out a piercing, dramatic gasp. "My bracelet!" Serena cried out, her voice echoing off the marble pillars. The string quartet seemed to falter for a fraction of a second. More guests turned to look, their conversations dying out as the commotion demanded their attention. "Serena, keep your voice down," Clara said, her analytical mind immediately assessing the shifting dynamics of the room. A crowd was already beginning to form a loose semi-circle around them. "You're making a scene."
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