Chapter 2
955words
Cherry Thorne had changed out of her wedding dress into a simple black suit. She sat on the sofa in the side hall, cold as marble.
Across from her sat Sullivan Sinclair, his face ashen.
The air hung thick and suffocating between them.
"Cherry," Sullivan broke the silence first, his voice tight with suppressed anger and a hint of fatigue. "I'll handle what happened today. Victoria, she…"
"Whatever happens to her is none of my concern," Cherry cut him off, her voice steady though her eyes sliced into him. "Right now, I only care about how the Sinclair family plans to deal with me."
Sullivan frowned. "You're still the young mistress of the Sinclair family. Although the wedding… but legally we've already…"
"Law?" Cherry's laugh was brittle with ice. "Sullivan Sinclair, do you think I give a damn about that marriage certificate? I care about my family's reputation! About whether this news will worsen my father's condition in the hospital! I care about what my ten years of devotion meant to your precious Sinclair family!"
Her voice remained low, but each word struck like a hammer blow to Sullivan's chest.
He had never seen Cherry like this before—calm, sharp, with an almost destructive power. In the past, she had always been gentle, patient, cautiously hopeful.
"I know you've been wronged today." Sullivan looked away, his tone softening. "I'll make it up to you. Victoria and the child—I'll settle them properly. They won't affect your position."
"Position?" Cherry spoke as if she'd heard the greatest joke ever. "A jilted bride who became a spectacle at her own wedding—what position could she possibly have left? Sullivan Sinclair, stop deluding yourself. From the moment that woman appeared, you, me, and the entire Sinclair family became Harbor City's biggest laughingstock!"
Sullivan's jaw tightened. He knew Cherry was right. He could already imagine tomorrow's brutal headlines.
"Then what do you want?" he asked, taking a deep breath.
Cherry leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing into Sullivan's eyes. "I want to join Sinclair Corporation headquarters as Vice President, in charge of the upcoming new energy sector project."
Sullivan's pupils contracted sharply. "Impossible! You've never been involved in the group's core business. The board would never approve!"
"That's your problem." Cherry leaned back, her posture elegant yet commanding. "Old Mr. Sinclair is seriously ill, and you're in charge now. Either convince the board to let me in legitimately, or I'll let today's farce ferment a bit more—perhaps by leaking details about how the Sinclair heir abandoned his bride for his pregnant mistress. I imagine quite a few people would be interested in what that does to Sinclair Corp's stock price."
"Are you threatening me?" Sullivan stood abruptly, fury blazing in his eyes as he towered over her.
Cherry met his gaze without flinching. "Damn right I am. Sullivan Sinclair, this is what your family owes me. Trading an empty 'Mrs. Sinclair' title for the stability of Sinclair Corporation and your reputation—it's quite a good deal."
She paused, then added: "Besides, don't forget that I'm not some empty-headed socialite. I studied business management abroad and gained experience in my family's company. Give me a platform, and I might actually help you stabilize things—especially now, with your father dying and the sharks circling. We each get what we need."
Sullivan stared at her intently, as if seeing her for the first time.
The Cherry in his memory was a girl who'd glow for hours from his casual compliments, who quietly managed his affairs, who placed him at the center of her universe.
But now she was calmly negotiating terms, precisely targeting his vulnerabilities, transforming emotional betrayal into a cold power play.
He suddenly realized that the Cherry who had loved him more than life itself might truly have died by his own hand at today's wedding.
Now she was an unsheathed blade, gleaming with the cold light of vengeance.
A long silence stretched between them. Outside the window, night had fallen thick as ink.
Eventually, Sullivan seemed drained of all energy as he slowly sat back down, his voice hoarse. "…Fine. I'll arrange it. But Cherry Thorne, remember your words—we each take what we need. Once you enter the corporation, you follow corporate rules. I won't show favoritism."
Cherry's lips curved into a cold smile. "Don't worry, President Sinclair. Business is business, personal is personal. From now on, between us, there will only be business."
She stood up without another glance and walked straight toward the door. At the threshold, she paused but didn't turn back.
"Oh, and give my regards to Miss Victoria Skye," her voice was light yet bone-chilling. "Tell her to take good care of her pregnancy. The Sinclair bloodline is extremely precious. If anything unfortunate were to happen… I couldn't bear the responsibility."
With that, she pulled open the door and vanished into the shadows of the hallway.
Sullivan sat alone in the spacious living room, feeling a chill spread from the soles of his feet throughout his body.
For the first time, he felt that perhaps he had made a terrible mistake. Bringing in Cherry Thorne wasn't like adopting a docile house cat—it was unleashing a she-wolf hungry for blood.
Meanwhile, Cherry returned to her cold new room, studying her pale reflection with sharp eyes. She knew that from this moment on, her battlefield had shifted.
Love was dead; all that remained was power and revenge.
She opened her left hand. The wound carved by the ring had already scabbed over—a brand etched deep into her lifeline.
The thorn in her palm—a constant reminder to never forget this humiliation.
Her war had only just begun.
