The Heiress's Vindication: He Chose the Damsel in Distress, But Now He Regrets It Chapter 1

My childhood sweetheart, born into the same old-money elite circle as me, fell in love with a poor, innocent damsel in distress from the wrong side of the tracks.

To marry her, he withstood the pressure of his entire family and broke off his engagement with me.

Heartbroken, I went abroad to further my studies.

By the time I returned, he and Lily Evans had been married for almost two years.

And I had long since moved on.

But at my welcome-home party, Preston Harrington—the man who once fought the entire world just to be with Lily—looked at the woman he had fought so hard to marry with icy disgust. With a chilling tone, he snapped:

"Didn't I tell you to stay at home? Why are you out here embarrassing me?"

* * *

When I returned to the States, my close friends threw a massive, luxurious welcome-home party for me.

To my surprise, Preston Harrington showed up.

Seven years ago, he was so blinded by his love for Lily Evans that he insisted on breaking our perfectly matched engagement. In front of all our elders, he had declared: If he couldn't marry Lily, he would rather marry a dog than marry me.

Those words were so humiliating that they completely shattered the decades-long friendship between our two families.

That day, I finally grew tired of it all. I cried in front of my parents for an hour, begging them to call off the engagement.

I told them I didn't want Preston anymore. I didn't want to marry him.

My parents looked at me with aching hearts and finally relented. They went to the Harringtons' estate and had a closed-door meeting for an hour.

The final verdict was spun not as Preston rejecting me, but as the Sterling family refusing to marry off their daughter.

With things escalating to that point, the engagement was voided. While our families didn't completely sever ties and become sworn enemies, the relationship undeniably froze over.

Shortly after, I left for Paris to study.

Until today, when I finally returned.

I looked at Preston. Compared to seven years ago, he had grown taller and much more composed. His handsome face carried an aristocratic, aloof coldness, and his dark eyes were fixed intently on me.

No one had told me Preston would be here. I turned to look at my best friend, Sophie, who was hosting the event.

Sophie hurriedly waved her hands to clear her name, explaining, "I didn't invite him, Claire! I have no idea where Preston heard you were coming back, but he volunteered to take over and host this welcome-home party for you."

She guiltily added a redundant disclaimer: "It really wasn't me, I swear."

I didn't say a word. Instead, Preston chuckled. His tone was gentle, exactly like it used to be back before our fallout, when he would pick me up for school every morning.

"Claire, it's been so many years. I was young and reckless back then, and I handled things terribly. I hurt you. So today, I brazenly took over as host because I wanted to formally apologize."

He paused, looking directly into my eyes, and continued, "Do you still hold a grudge about the past?"

Look at how he phrased that. If I said I still held a grudge, it would make me look petty and unable to let him go.

So, I looked up and gave him a dazzling, magnanimous smile. "You said it yourself—it's in the past."

We all ran in the same circles, and it really had been a long time. He meant absolutely nothing to me now.

I picked up a glass of champagne and smiled breezily. "Sophie mentioned that you and Lily got married over a year ago. I haven't congratulated you yet. Here's to you."

His expression remained flat. Logically, having successfully married the girl of his dreams, even with his naturally stoic personality, he shouldn't be looking this indifferent.

Before I could even process his reaction, he picked up his glass and downed it in one go.

It didn't look like he was accepting a blessing; it looked like he was drowning his sorrows.

But I couldn't be bothered to care.

Reuniting with old friends naturally led to endless catching up. Since I was the guest of honor, everyone hyped me up, and the topics revolved entirely around me.

Someone asked how many boyfriends I had in France.

Someone brought up my global art exhibition tour.

Another friend complained, half-jokingly, "Seriously, Claire, why do you have to be so overachieving? Tickets to your gallery exhibitions are impossible to get, and you've opened so many galleries worldwide. My old man constantly compares me to you, sighing about how I only know how to chase celebrities, shop for Birkins, and race sports cars."

I laughed. "It's just a hobby."

Preston, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, smiled. "After all these years, you've finally learned to be humble."

His tone... how should I put it? It was as natural as an old friend's, laced with an intimate familiarity. It was as if we had never had our messy falling out, as if he had never said those agonizingly cruel things to me just to defend Lily.

I didn't quite know how to respond. I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination, but his tone felt... almost flirtatious.

While I was still debating how to reply, he added, "I went to see your exhibition, Dance of Shadows. It was breathtaking."

Now it wasn't just me; even the friends sitting around us sensed something was off.

They fell silent, their gazes darting subtly between me and Preston.

My expression didn't change as I politely replied, "Oh. Thank you."

After a brief pause, I jokingly reminded him, "Did you go see it with Lily? Speaking of which, why didn't she come today? I haven't seen her in years, and we are old high school classmates after all."

His expression cooled again, and he said dismissively, "Oh, she's busy at home."

He said it as if he were talking about an irrelevant stranger.

I had no idea why he was using such a dismissive tone and attitude when referring to the woman he had once loved so recklessly, but I had no desire to get tangled in his mess.

So, I just let out a polite laugh and steered the conversation elsewhere.

It wasn't until the party ended and we walked out to the club's lobby that we saw Lily sitting on the lounge sofas.

Her eyes were glued to the private VIP elevator, her expression a mix of anxiousness, distress, and insecurity. The moment the elevator doors dinged open, she shot up from the sofa.

It looked like she had been sitting there the entire time, just waiting for us to come down.

Everyone paused.

She tried her best to force a smile, scanning the group until her eyes landed on me standing next to Preston. Instantly, the color drained from her face.

She stared at me, looking completely crestfallen and panicked, as if she were facing her greatest enemy.

I found the whole thing baffling.