Desperate, I swallowed every ounce of pride I had left and went to Julian’s penthouse.
He was lounging on his leather sofa, a glass of vintage wine in hand, looking like the devil who already owned my soul.
“Clara, Clara,” he chuckled. “Look at you. Kneeling. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
I begged. I cried. I told him I would do anything.
A cruel smile spread across his face.
“I’ll give you the five million,” he said slowly. “But tomorrow, you will marry the lowest creature I can find. A filthy beggar I picked up from the streets. We’ll do it in the grandest cathedral in the city. Every billionaire, every politician, every media outlet will be there. I want the whole world to watch the once-proud Clara Valderama marry a sewer rat. I want photos of you in a cheap dress standing next to human garbage. Only then will I transfer the money.”
