The Ninth Time I Took Off My Wedding Ring Chapter 07
Claire’s POV
The moment the plane’s wheels touched down on the Zurich runway, I knew I was truly home.
Walking out of the jetway, I spotted my father immediately. His
temples were completely gray now, his shoulders more hunched
than I remembered, but his eyes remained sharp as ever.
The instant he saw me, this iron–willed man’s eyes welled up with tears as he gently opened his arms.
“Dad…” I threw myself into his embrace, my voice choking. “I’m
so sorry. I brought shame on our family over that bastard.”
Memories from six years ago flooded back–me kneeling in his study while father coldly declared, “If you insist on marrying him, then you’re no daughter of mine.” And I had walked out without looking back.
During my first year of marriage, worried that Clifford would
hurt me, my parents had proactively proposed that “separation agreement” with the Montgomery Industries–meant to protect
my happiness. They never imagined that this agreement, designed to shield me, would become his excuse to abandon me time and again.
But now, father offered no reproach, only gently patted my back. “It’s good you’re home.”
“I wasn’t happy…” Tears streamed down my face. “I was too ashamed to come home.”
Father was silent for a moment, then simply said, “Your mother‘
s waiting in the car. She says you’ve gotten too thin.”
I followed him toward the parking garage.
When the car door opened, mother held me tight, asking nothing, only whispering, “Are you hungry? I made your favorite soup at home.”
Father pulled out a thick document from the passenger seat.” Look at this.”
I opened it–acquisition papers for the Montgomery Industries‘ largest port, every page stamped with the Hayes family seal.
“This isn’t revenge,” father’s tone was calm. “It’s a homecoming gift.”
I shook my head. “I want to handle this relationship myself.”
Father studied me. “Then do it your way. But remember–a
Hayes daughter never needs to bow her head to anyone.”
Two years later, I stood in a designer suit before the floor–to-
ceiling windows of Hayes Holdings‘ penthouse. This was one of
the Hayes family’s largest legitimate enterprises, and I was now at its helm.
“Q3 net profits are up 65% year–over–year. The Financial Times called you ‘Europe’s Golden Touch,” my secretary reported the latest figures.
I toyed with a black and gold embossed invitation-“Global Five
Families Summit.” It reminded me of the first time I met
Nathaniel Wilder.
That was a year ago at a Monaco charity gala, where I represented the Hayes family. While other men tried to conquer me with their gazes, Nathaniel was discussing the
reorganization of Eastern European trade routes. He didn’t treat me as decoration, but as a genuine partner.
“You’re your own person,” he had said then. “You think for yourself.”
Over the following months, we started with business cooperation and gradually discovered we shared many ideals. He never tried to control me, but appreciated my independence and strength. Unlike Clifford, Nathaniel gave me equal respect.
I pulled myself from these thoughts, looking at the invitation in
my hand. Perhaps it was time to show certain people what the
surname they once dismissed truly represented.
“Send an invitation to the Montgomery Industries as well,” I
instructed softly. “Use my full name–Claire Hayes.”
I could imagine Clifford’s expression when he saw “Hayes“-that
surname he had never bothered to investigate, the family that
controlled New Orleans‘ entire underground shipping network.
Three days after sending the invitation, I received an express package from Flora at my Venice hotel: nine original separation agreements, nine dissolution statements, and the wedding ring I had thrown away.
A note in Clifford’s familiar handwriting read: “I found them all.
Claire, can we start over?”
Flora texted almost simultaneously: [He went looking for you anyway. He thinks you’ll forgive him. How pathetic.]
I laughed, walking to the shredder and feeding in both the
documents and the ring.
“You found the papers,” I murmured to myself, “but I threw
away the entire past.”
The next morning in the Venice conference hall, the five family heads sat around a circular table. I occupied the Hayes family’s
seat, with Nathaniel beside me.
Our months together had created a deep understanding
between us. He would hand me water with lemon before I spoke,
knowing my preferences. More importantly, he supported every
decision I made, never questioning my judgment.
“Regarding the reallocation of Eastern European routes…” I was presenting my proposal when I felt Nathaniel’s approving gaze.
Just as I finished speaking, Nathaniel suddenly stood, pulling a deep blue velvet box from his jacket. He knelt beside my chair and opened it–a 12–carat pink diamond ring sparkled under the
lights.
“Claire,” his voice was low and steady, “marry me.”
I looked at him, thinking of his tenderness and support these
past months, how he never treated me as an accessory but as a true partner. This was the love I wanted—equal, respectful, mutually fulfilling.
“Yes.” I extended my left hand.
Just as he slipped the ring onto my finger, the conference room‘ s side door burst open.
Clifford stormed in.
His suit was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, like a cornered animal. His gaze locked onto me with desperate intensity.
The conference room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at this uninvited guest. Bursting into such a gathering was tantamount to declaring war on the five families.
Clifford’s eyes swept across my face before settling on my left hand-