Chapter 163

The impact sent Isabella Rhodes flying from her wheelchair, the metal contraption careening down the staircase without her.

She landed hard on the landing, her body twisted at an unnatural angle, legs dangling precariously over the railing.

Pain exploded through her like wildfire, sharp and unrelenting, searing through every nerve until her vision blurred.

Her screams tore through the air—raw, guttural, the kind that made bystanders flinch as if they’d been struck themselves.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. It felt like a freight train had plowed straight through her, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake.

For a long, horrifying moment, no one moved. No one dared. She lay there, discarded in the corner like broken furniture, forgotten by the world.

Meanwhile, in an upscale restaurant, two perfectly seared steaks arrived at a private table.

The meat glistened under the soft lighting, its crust caramelized to a rich, golden-brown, promising decadence with every bite.

The sound of sizzling filled the air, the aroma rich and intoxicating—crisp on the outside, but beneath that perfect sear lay tender, buttery perfection.

The sun was setting over Cresthaven, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson.

Claire Dawson raised her hand with dramatic flourish, signaling the waiter. "Two more of your most expensive dishes," she declared, her voice carrying across the elegant dining room. "And let everyone know—tonight’s feast is on me!"

The upscale restaurant erupted in cheers.

This wasn’t just any restaurant—it was La Perle, where a single glass of wine could cost more than most people’s monthly rent. A full-course meal here? Easily a small fortune.

But Claire didn’t care.

Freshly discharged from the hospital, she and Evelyn Carter had made a pact: they were going to drain Lucas Bennett’s credit card dry.

"We’re divorcing anyway," Claire thought, swirling her champagne with a smirk. "Why leave him with a single penny? Let him suffer. Consider this my parting gift—charity in the form of fine dining."

Soon, well-dressed patrons began approaching their table, glasses raised in gratitude.

In a place like this, filled with Cresthaven’s elite, social niceties were expected.

One woman, recognizing Claire, leaned in with a polite smile. "What’s the occasion, darling?"

Claire grinned, raising her glass high. "Celebrating my divorce from Lucas Bennett!"

The woman’s smile faltered.

Lucas Bennett wasn’t just any name—the Bennett family was second only to the Whitmores in Cresthaven’s high society.

Silence rippled through the nearby tables.

Evelyn stifled a laugh, lifting her own glass. "To freedom!"

Claire clinked hers against it, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And to bankrupting ex-husbands!"

The tension shattered as laughter filled the air.

But across the room, whispers had already begun.

"Did she just say Lucas Bennett?"

"The Bennett heir? That’s a scandal waiting to explode."

Claire didn’t care.

Tonight was about indulgence.

Revenge.

And making sure Lucas felt every single dollar vanishing from his account.

The guest couldn't help but wonder, Why is Claire so delighted about a divorce when most people would kill to be part of high society?

Noticing the unspoken question, Claire smirked. "You think being tied to a wealthy family is some kind of blessing? Not for me. I'm free now—shouldn't you be congratulating me instead?"

The guest let out an awkward chuckle before hastily offering some half-hearted compliments.

Soon enough, everyone who approached to toast had no choice but to join in the celebration.

What should have been a somber occasion turned into something resembling a victory party.

To keep Claire's mood lifted, guests were subtly encouraged to take playful jabs at Lucas Bennett.

After all, few actually knew who he was—men like him didn’t exactly mingle with the average crowd.

A few mocking remarks thrown his way seemed like a fair trade for staying in the hostess’s good graces.

Evelyn kept a watchful eye on Claire, ensuring she didn’t overindulge.

Even though Claire had been discharged the same day as her procedure, recovery wasn’t something to take lightly.

The last thing they needed was a setback because of reckless celebration.

Evelyn discreetly swapped Claire’s champagne for sparkling water, earning herself an exaggerated eye roll.

But Claire didn’t protest—deep down, she appreciated the concern.

Around them, laughter and chatter filled the room, the energy infectious.

For the first time in a long while, Claire felt light.

No more suffocating expectations.

No more walking on eggshells.

Just pure, unfiltered freedom.

And she intended to savor every second of it.

The final bill tallied a staggering $52.3 million. Claire didn’t even blink.

Across town, Lucas’s phone buzzed violently with the notification. His eyes widened at the amount.

"Fifty-two million?" he muttered under his breath. "Did they dine on solid gold caviar?"

By the time Lucas sped to the restaurant, the table had long been cleared. Claire had vanished without a trace.