The CEO Wants Me- Heiress Has Risen Again

(Claire Harrington's POV)

"Ms. Harrington, my deepest condolences. Your mother's legacy, complicated as it may be, will not be forgotten." A voice, low and thick with a blend of pity and professional detachment, sliced through the stillness.

Claire Harrington, dressed in mournful black, wiped away a tear she was not aware existed and gave a strained thank you. The scene was the Ashford City Cemetery, the mood thick with the subdued, almost triumphant gloom that follows in the path of a giant's demise.

It was a month now since the fall of Harrington Enterprises, the powerful media giant her mother, Eleanor Harrington, had ruled with an iron fist. The company-and Eleanor's life-had ended not in silent death but in a firestorm of public scandal, investigative lawsuits, and a fatal heart attack widely rumored to be stress-induced. The honored Harrington family name was no more, replaced by front-page tales of corruption and ruthless manipulation.

Yet despite all the downfall, the guests-a mix of media aristocracy, restless reporters, and political number crunchers-could not bring themselves to count Claire out completely. Not only was she Eleanor's fallen daughter; she was also the estranged wife of Adrian Blackwood, the cold, calculating CEO of the Blackwood Corporation, who now dominated the digital media kingdom her mother used to preside over.

The funeral was coming to an end at about noon, and everyone's eyes still darted towards the door. Adrian Blackwood was conspicuous by his absence. As final prayers were being muttered, a glossy black Bentley silently pulled up to the curb.

The back door opened, and two immaculately polished leather shoes appeared, surmounted by a flawlessly tailored suit. Adrian Blackwood emerged, his handsome, sharp-featured face utterly unwarm. Claire had not set eyes on him in the two years of their nominal marriage. The irony was a bitter pill: the reason for it was the funeral of the woman whose transgressions had bound them together.

All the visitors had come with flowers or a wreath. Adrian came empty-handed.

Adrian," a soft, syrupy voice rang out. Another car door opened, and a heart-stoppingly gorgeous woman in a bright, gaudily inappropriate red cocktail dress stepped out. Adrian's lover and reputed fiancée from Monroe Holdings, Felicity Monroe, slipped her arm easily through his. "Do I need to go in and pay my respects to. the late Mrs. Harrington?" she asked, her voice somewhat teasing.

Adrian's face eased infinitesimally as he looked down at Felicity, a fleeting warmth that was a punch in the stomach to Claire. He prudently took his arm away. "Wait here for me. It will not take long."

"Of course, darling." Felicity smiled, stood on tiptoes, and left a quick, intimate kiss on his cheek.

The silent, watching crowd was the final judge. On the morning when her mother was laid to rest, in front of a crowd of judgmental social media influencers, her husband was not only late but was also with his mistress, who had deliberately dressed in the color of scandal.

Claire dug