Chapter 4 - Adjusting to the Crown
The transition from poverty to extreme wealth was jarring for Clara and her siblings.
The estate was massive, with staff members who, just days ago, were Clara's equals. Now, they called her "Mrs. Vance" and bowed their heads when she passed. Clara hated it. She insisted on making breakfast for her siblings herself, much to the horror of the French private chef.
“Clara, you don’t have to do that,” Julian laughed one morning, watching her flip pancakes in her silk pajamas.
“If I stop cooking, I’ll forget who I am,” she replied, plating a massive stack for Tommy.
But beneath the domestic bliss, a new threat was festering.
Eleanor Vance, now exiled to a penthouse in Manhattan, had not admitted defeat. If she couldn't destroy Clara’s reputation, she would destroy Julian’s empire, forcing him to choose between his company and his maid-wife.
Eleanor secretly met with Richard Sterling, the CEO of rival tech firm Sterling Dynamics. She handed over highly classified internal documents from Vance Enterprises—documents that detailed a massive, multi-billion-dollar government contract Julian was on the verge of signing.
“Undercut him,” Eleanor spat, sipping her martini. “Steal the contract. Tank his stock. I want him crawling back to me, begging for help.”
Back at the estate, Clara was facing her own battles. She had enrolled Tommy and Leo in the most exclusive private academy in Rhode Island. On their first day, Clara attended the parents' welcoming brunch.
The other mothers, draped in Chanel and Hermès, looked at Clara like she was a disease.
“I heard she used to scrub the toilets here,” a wealthy socialite whispered loudly to her friend as Clara poured a cup of coffee. “Julian must have a savior complex. How tragic for the bloodline.”
Clara gripped her coffee cup, her knuckles turning white. The old Clara would have kept her head down and walked away. But she was Mrs. Vance now.
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She turned around, flashing a brilliant, icy smile. “Actually, Susan,” Clara said, reading the woman’s nametag. “I didn't scrub toilets. I managed the estate's entire logistical supply chain. Much like how your husband manages his hedge fund, though I hear his Q3 returns are down twelve percent. Shall we discuss that, or would you prefer to keep talking about my cleaning supplies?”
The women stared at her, mouths agape. Clara turned on her heel and walked away. She wasn't just surviving anymore; she was learning how to rule.
