Chapter 3 - The Morning After the Collapse
The next morning, the headlines of Miami’s high-society tabloids were brutal. Pictures of me dripping wet in the fountain were placed right next to photos of Blake Campbell wrapping his coat around me. The captions read: “The Hidden Queen: Campbell’s Secret Bride Humiliated by Her Own Family Before Absolute Wealth Steps In.”
I sat at the grand marble island in Blake’s penthouse kitchen, sipping coffee, dressed in a silk robe that belonged to him. The view of the Atlantic Ocean from the floor-to-ceiling windows was breathtaking, but my attention was captured by the frantic buzzing of my phone.
There were forty-two missed calls from my mother, twenty-eight from Penelope, and over a hundred from my father.
Blake walked into the kitchen, looking effortlessly sharp in a tailored charcoal suit. He didn't look like a man who had upended high society the night before; he looked like a king ready to govern his empire. He placed a freshly printed document next to my coffee cup.
"What's this?" I asked.
"An invitation to a mandatory emergency board meeting at Vance Enterprise," Blake said, pouring himself an espresso. "Your father spent the entire night trying to secure alternative funding to replace the loan I canceled. Every bank in the state rejected him within minutes. Word travels fast when Blake Campbell blacklists a name."
"Are we going?" I asked, a spark of anticipation lighting up in my chest.
"We are," Blake said, leaning against the counter and looking down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. "But you will be going as the majority chair. I’m transferring all the debt-turned-equity shares I bought into your name. Today, Clara, you walk into that building as their boss."
My breath hitched. "Blake... that's too much. The contract didn't require you to give me ownership."
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"Consider it a bonus for enduring the fountain," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He stepped closer, leaning down until his lips were inches from my ear. "Nobody touches what belongs to me, Clara. Not even your blood."
The intensity of his words made my pulse skyrocket. It was a business arrangement, I reminded myself. But as Blake’s hand lingered on the back of my chair, I realized that playing the role of his wife was becoming the easiest thing in the world to do.
