Two burly bodyguards in black suddenly cut through the crowd, heading straight for Claire. She was caught off guard. These were the same bodyguards Connor had snagged just yesterday, the ones who’d always had her back. Getting a grip, Claire quickly figured out what Connor was up to.
"Connor, what do you think you're doing? Do you dare to lay a hand on me?" she demanded.
Connor's voice was icy, yet he spoke with a casual air. "Sis, you've lost it. I'm doing this for your own good."
"Let go of me! How dare you send me to a mental institution? You're the one who’s lost it!" Claire shouted, thrashing wildly, her cool completely gone. But it was no use; the bodyguards pulled her away, leaving behind a crowd as shocked as deer caught in headlights.
Connor strolled to the doorway and asked calmly, "What did you all just see?"
There was a moment of silence before someone piped up, "Ms. Claire went nuts and attacked someone with a knife in the office. We can all back that up."
Connor seemed quite pleased with this version of events.
By that afternoon, headlines about Ms. Claire's meltdown and bankruptcy plastered the society, finance, and entertainment sections. Everyone was buzzing. To outsiders, it looked like a scandal, but insiders saw it as a cunning move. The elite knew Claire had completely lost her footing in this high-stakes game. Overnight, she'd lost everything.
People started to feel a bit wary of Connor—a man ruthless enough to take down his own family, let alone outsiders. In the cutthroat world of family feuds, sending your own sibling to a mental hospital was unheard of, making him a force to reckon with.
At Mercy Hospital, Claire found herself in a room with walls closing in on her, her anger simmering to a boil. Connor had really locked her up in a mental facility and taken her phone. The room was sparse—just a bed, a sofa, and a desk. A bookshelf crammed with books stood nearby.
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