The club pulsed with neon lights and bass heavy music; the kind of atmosphere Ritah Dane had grown to love and thrive in. While Claire slept, preparing her body for another day to make money, her cousin was out flaunting her heiress status.
She was perched on a velvet booth, tossing one-hundred-dollar bills into the air like confetti. Her entourage of friends squealed, scooping the money, chanting her name as if she were royalty. Ritah basked in it, sipping champagne, her laughter sharp and deliberate, ensuring every eye in the VIP section stayed on her.
"Now this is what a real heiress should be like, not a penny pincher like that fake heiress who ran to the countryside," one of her friends shouted, and Ritah raised her glass higher, smirking. She wanted Claire to hear about this night, to know exactly how far she had fallen behind.
After another round of drinks, Ritah excused herself, stumbling slightly, heels clicking against the marble floor as she headed to the bathroom. She walked down the dimly lit hallway and froze.
Her fiance stood near the wall, leaning in a little far too close to a woman with glossy black hair and a sly smile. Their voices were hushed, but the body language screamed intimacy. Ritah’s heart lurched, then twisted into rage.
"Are you kidding me?" she hissed, storming forward. Her eyes darted to the floor, where an empty bottle lay abandoned. Without hesitation, she picked it up and lunged.
The woman turned, startled, but Ritah didn’t give her a chance to speak. With a furious cry, Ritah smashed the bottle against the woman’s shoulder, shards scattering across the marble floor.
"You think you can steal my man, Claire?" Ritah shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls. "I won. He already chose me. Why can’t you stay away from him? You stole my life, and now, you want to steal my man! You will never win against me! I am the real Dane heiress, not you."
The woman Andrew had been hitting on was bleeding slightly from the cut and terrified. She stumbled back in shock. "I am not Claire!" she cried, but Ritah was far too gone, her fury blinding her.
Andrew grabbed Ritah’s arm, infuriated. "What are you doing?" He barked. "She is not Claire. Stop this right now, you are making a scene!"
But Ritah only spat, "She’s not Claire, but she’s just another cheap copy! Look at that hair and those eyes. She looks exactly like that cheap bitch. I don’t care if she is Claire or someone else. Either way, she’s done. I am going to ruin her. Does she know whose man she is messing around with?"
The commotion drew attention. Club staff rushed in, followed by Ritah’s friends, their cheers now replaced with gasps. Someone shouted for security.
Within minutes, the police arrived at the scene. Officers pushed through the crowd, their radios crackling. Ritah, still screaming insults and threatening to end the other woman, was restrained, her wrists cuffed as she fought against them.
"This is a mistake!" she wailed. "I am the real Dane heiress! She’s just another copy of Claire. That bitch sent her here to ruin me! Call my dad right now. I am going to sue all of you."
The officers ignored her, leading her out of the club as her entourage scattered in panic. None of them wanted to be caught on camera by paparazzi and implicated in a scandal tomorrow. To them, it was enough that the crowd had already recorded the spectacle. The real Dane heiress was the most foolish woman in their circles.
****
At 6.20 in the morning, Claire was already dressed for work. Like yesterday, she was dressed in the orange overalls, with squeaky boots and a hat. The kitchen smelled of fresh bread, bacon, eggs and milk, courtesy of Wilder who slid a plate toward her with a knowing smile.
"No skipping meals. Money is useless without good health."
Claire settled at the dining table. As she reached for a piece of bacon, the front door opened and in walked Apollo--sweaty, flushed and wearing a tight work out vest that clung to his chest. He looked like he had just stepped out of a fitness magazine.
"Morning," he said, removing earphones from his ears. "I just met your brothers, the Bens. Nice kids that tell bad jokes. One of them called me Captain Stretch! Another asked if I eat muscle pop for breakfast! What the hell is muscle pop?"
Claire shrugged. "Don’t know." She was not about to tell him that they called her Captain Carrot.
"Oh, they told me to send their love to Captain Carrot." His eyes trailed over her outfit. He smirked. "The name is certainly deserving."
Before she could retort, he slid over towards her with his phone. "Guess what? Your cousin got herself arrested last night."
Claire paused, bread halfway to her mouth. "Arrested?"
Apollo nodded eagerly, swiping at his phone. "Here, look." he held out the screen, showing a video of Ritah in the hallway of the club bathroom, screaming like a maniac and being dragged away by the police. "Your ex was caught with his pants down again. Not that there is much in that department to show off."
Claire chuckled, shaking her head. "I knew he would cheat on her, but I thought he would at least wait until after their wedding in three months."
"See what I saved you from?" Apollo smirked. "I am your hero."
She snorted and replayed the video. Ritah kept screaming about being the Dane heiress as if she wanted the whole world to hear it.
Wilder, who had been listening from the stove peeked out of the kitchen. "Serves her right. That family was asking for trouble when they took her back. Ritah was always jealous of other people’s nice things. Always flaunting and scheming. She is no different from Alden and Heimi. Now, the world will see them for what they are." She tapped the spatula against the door with satisfaction. "Let her sit in jail for a while. Maybe she will learn humility."
Apollo laughed, though his eyes flicked toward Claire, gauging her reaction. "She blew 500,000 in the club last night."
Wilder snorted. "And my Claire earned that and more yesterday from fishing. One brings wealth and the other drains it. I hope she bleeds Alden and Heimi dry. Mark my words, sooner or later, those greedy sons of bitches will be back here begging for jobs on Claire’s ship or ships."
Claire raised her cup, toasting to that. She finished breakfast quickly, kissed her grandmother on the cheek and grabbed Paddy’s leash. As she stepped out the door, the morning air felt lighter, fresher.
"What a great day!" She told herself. When she thought of how much Alden and Heimi would be spending on public relations alone, the day got better.