BREAKING THE INTERNET ~CLAIRE'S POV~ The notification sound had been going off for the past three minutes straight. I stared at the tablet Marcus had push into my hands, watching the numbers climb in real time. Shares, likes, comments-all exploding across every social media platform like digital fireworks. "BILLIONAIRE ALEXANDER HAYES ENGAGED TO MYSTERY WOMAN" "From Divorce to Dynasty: Claire Winfred's Stunning Comeback" "The $50 Million Ring That Broke the Internet" I had always fantasized about breaking the internet. But sitting here in this exclusive Geneva restaurant, surrounded by my carefully curated circle of wealthy friends, watching my engagement announcement send shockwaves across Manhattan-it felt surreal. "Who knew Alexander had such dramatic flair cooking up this surprise?" Marie teased, raising her champagne flute. Her eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that came from knowing secrets. "You should have seen your face during the proposal. I thought you might faint." I smiled, taking a measured sip of my wine. The Château Margaux tasted like victory. This was more than any fantasy I had taken in during those dark months of healing. The engagement wasn't just an opening move in my revenge-it was a complete rewrite of the narrative. Claire Blackwood, the pitiful abandoned wife, was dead. In her place sat Claire Elizabeth Winfred, soon-to-be Hayes, the most talked-about woman on the internet. Sarah leaned forward, her designer bracelet catching the afternoon light. "The girls who thought Alexander was playing games with them must be sobbing into their Hermès bags right about now." "They never had a chance," another voice chimed in. "A billionaire like Alexander doesn't get on one knee for just anyone." "What about the minister's daughter?" Isabella added with a knowing smirk. "Wasn't she practically planning their wedding after that charity gala?" I listened to their chatter, but inside, a darker satisfaction was blooming. 'Is this how Monica had felt?' The thought struck me like lightning. 'When she succeeded in stealing Richard, when their engagement was announced, when her friends congratulated her on landing the CEO of Blackwood Industries?' Had she sat in a restaurant just like this, surrounded by admirers, while I was somewhere crying over the ruins of my marriage? Had she felt this intoxicating mix of triumph and vindication while I was reduced to begging Richard to choose me? The memory made my stomach churn. Marie must have noticed my brief discomfort because she smoothly changed the subject. "Claire, you haven't touched your appetizer. The engagement nerves getting to you?" I turned to her gratefully. "Just dazed by all of this. A year ago, I never imagined..." "A year ago, you were a completely different person," Marie said firmly. "You've earned every bit of this happiness." 'Happiness.' The word felt foreign on my tongue. Was this happiness? Or was this just the first taste of revenge, sweet and addictive? My eyes drifted to my tablet, still buzzing with notifications. The news had definitely reached New York by now. Somewhere in Manhattan, Richard was seeing these headlines. Was he in his corner office, watching his ex-wife claim a victory he had never thought possible? I scrolled to the business section, and my pulse quickened. Blackwood Industries' stock had dropped another three points since this morning. The company Richard had inherited from his father, the empire he had chosen over me, was slowly crumbling. Soon it would be nothing but bankruptcy papers and liquidation sales. The thought should have brought me pure joy, but instead, I felt a hollow ache. "My husband's friend works at Blackwood," Sarah said suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. "Says the company's hemorrhaging money. Thomas Blackwood must be rolling in his grave watching his son destroy the family legacy." "I heard the current CEO got remarried," Isabella added with surprising horror. "To his first wife's best friend, no less. Can you imagine?" The table exploded in gasps and sympathetic murmurs. I kept my expression carefully neutral while my friends dissected Richard's betrayal like vultures picking at a corpse. "How disgusting," Marie said, her voice dripping with distaste. "What kind of friend seduces her best friend's husband? I could never forgive something like that." "What do you think, Claire?" Sarah turned to me expectantly. "If that happened to you, what would you do to such a friend?" The question hung in the air like a loaded gun. Every pair of eyes at the table was on me, waiting for the expected response. They wanted me to condemn Monica, to call her a snake, to play the role of the innocent victim. The old Claire would have obliged. She would have cried about betrayal and sworn she could never forgive such treachery. But I wasn't that woman anymore. "I don't feel pity for the ex-wife," I said calmly, watching shock ripple across their faces. The silence was deafening. Marie's fork paused halfway to her mouth. Isabella's champagne glass froze at her lips. "The wife was too blind to see what was happening right in front of her," I continued, my voice steady and cold. "She gave her friend every opportunity to destroy her marriage. She was weak, and weak women lose." "Claire..." Sarah's voice was barely a whisper. "You can't possibly mean...." "I mean exactly what I said." I met each of their stunned gazes without flinching. "The ex-wife handed her husband to her friend on a silver platter. She was pathetic, and pathetic women deserve exactly what they get." The words tasted like acid, but I forced them out anyway. Because they were true. The old Claire had been pathetic. She had been blind, trusting, naive. She had literally invited Monica into her home, into her marriage, into Richard's bed. "That's..." Isabella struggled for words. "That's incredibly harsh, Claire." "It's reality," I replied, reaching for my champagne. "I've learned that successful women don't waste time feeling sorry for failures. We learn from their mistakes." Marie was staring at me like she had never seen me before. "You sound like you're speaking from experience." "I'm speaking from observation," I said smoothly. "I've watched weak women my entire life. They cry, they beg, they blame everyone but themselves. Then they wonder why they end up alone and forgotten." The lie came so easily. But what was the alternative? Tell them I was that pathetic ex-wife? That I was Claire Blackwood, the woman whose story they'd been dissecting like a warning tale? Never. I raised my glass in a toast. "To strong women who take what they want and never apologize for it." One by one, they lifted their glasses, though the celebration felt strained now. Marie was still watching me with those sharp eyes, and I wondered if she suspected the truth. As they clicked crystal against crystal, I took a long sip of champagne and let the bubbles burn my throat. 'Weak.' Yes, the old Claire had been devastatingly weak. Too naive to see Monica's manipulation. Too trusting to guard her marriage. Too loving to protect her own heart. Monica hadn't just seen that weakness-she had weaponized it. Every intimate dinner invitation, every shoulder to cry on, every "innocent" conversation about Richard's needs had been a calculated move in a game i had been too stupid to realize I was playing. But that Claire was dead and buried. In her place sat Claire Elizabeth Winfred...soon to be Hayes....a woman who owned successful businesses, graced magazine covers, and was engaged to one of the most powerful men in the world. Most importantly, I was a woman who understood the rules of the game now. And I was about to play it better than Monica ever could. My phone buzzed with a text from Alexander: "Saw the headlines. How does it feel to be the most envied woman in America?" I typed back: "Like the first day of the rest of my life." As I hit send, I caught my reflection in the restaurant's mirrored wall. Designer dress, flawless makeup, a sapphire engagement ring that cost more than most people's houses. I looked like everything I had never thought I could be. But it was the look in my eyes that made me pause. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless. I had become everything Richard claimed I could never be. Everything Monica thought she was. 'Just wait for me, Richard,' I thought, watching the numbers on my tablet continue to climb. 'Soon, you'll think and breathe only my name. You'll remember what you threw away, and you'll realize you can never have it back.' The game was just beginning. And this time, I was going to win. Because weak women lose everything. But strong women? We take it all.