The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

"If my condition acts up, I'll take the pill." Jace stared at the pill in his palm with a cold expression, his gaze blank and distant.

"The Boss instructed me to make sure you take it," Clarice replied, her smile sharp and mocking.

Jace's brows furrowed as a chill ran through him. "Why?"

"It's the Boss's order. Why bother asking?" Clarice's eyes glearned with malice. Her smirk was wicked. "What's the matter? Are you afraid the Boss wants to harm you? Have you lost faith in him?"

Jace's breath caught in his throat. "No,"

"Jace, you swore an oath to the Boss. Don't you remember that you promised to serve him loyally for life no matter what happens?" Clarice raised her chin, her voice cold and disdainful.

"Even if he handed you poison, you should just swallow it without a second thought. Isn't that what you pledged to? So why are you hesitating now? Don't disappoint him, Jace."

The overwhelming pressure grew unbearable.

Jace felt as if the cold barrel of a gun were pressed against his back, forcing him closer to the edge of a cliff. One more step, and he would plummet into a bottomless abyss, shattering on the rocks below.

His jaw tightened as he opened the pill bottle.

Under Clarice's sharp gaze, he took a pill and swallowed it.

"Good. Always remember that you belong to the Boss. Never forget where your loyalty lies."

With that, Clarice chuckled mockingly, her posture haughty as she turned and walked away.

Jace kept a neutral expression as he moved forward.

seemed normal,

took off in a sprint. Hurrying into the restroom, he locked the door and knelt by the toilet. His bloodshot eyes widened as he thrust

"Urgh-!"

With a guttural retch, the blue pill tumbled out of his throat and fell

face streaked with cold, sticky saliva. Jace looked utterly disheveled. Bloodshot eyes betrayed a depth of exhaustion and torment never

But then, he smiled.

time in years, he smiled a

bore an uncanny resemblance to the strikingly handsome gentleman in the Thompson family portrait hanging in the grand

8

Grant welcomed his prominent guests at Savrow's most exclusive club in

swirled a glass of rare, expensive wine that had been acquired at

were Savrow's high-society elite, including Theodore,

Salvador-no, I should call you President Salvador now," Theodore slurred, sounding tipsy but still cheerful. Raising his glass, he continued, "You're far better than your younger brother, who's impossible to deal with. He's so stubborn and inflexible.

adding, "Back then, I knew he wouldn't last as the president

"Not justice; what doesn't belong to him

Master Grant. How could anyone think otherwise? Justin thought being president made him the heir to the Salvador legacy.

the mockery continued, Grant remained

of raising a wine glass, he sipped from a teacup, his refined demeanor standing out against the

said smoothly. "Mr. Savoy, I hope you wouldn't

and I should collaborate more often!" Theodore, who was usually very nitpicky with social hierarchies, waved it

flickered in his eyes. "Then Mr. Savoy, I'll count on you for

eventually excused himself and left, unable to keep up due to his

with a loud bang. Grant's secretary stumbled