THE TRASH YOU MOCKED

7

The phone slipped from Clara’s fingers, landing face-down on the sheets.

Her breath came in short, sharp bursts as she tried to process the headlines, the backlash, and how it all began.

It stung like acid.

She was still staring blankly at the wall when the door burst open.

“Clara!” her mother’s shrill voice cracked through the silence.

Clara looked up slowly to find her entire family gathered inside her room.

her father, Mitchell Hilton, with her mother, Regina, and her brother, Carl

They weren't looking at her with concern.

They were looking at her like she'd ruined everything.

“Clara!” her mother’s shrill voice cracked through the silence.

“What in God’s name were you thinking!?” her father barked.

Clara flinched. “What—?”

“You told us he was just a nobody,” Regina spat. “A no-name loser! And now the entire country’s watching you pass out on camera while your ex is announced as one of the youngest billionaires in the U.S.?”

They didn't allow her to talk as her father added

“You really had him. You were living with him. You knew him before anyone did and you threw him away like garbage.”

“Dad... I didn't know—"

Clara’s lips trembled.

Regina cut in. “You didn’t care to know. That boy would’ve done anything for you. And now he holds the keys to everything.”

Carl scoffed from the corner, arms crossed. “He probably thinks we all used him. He could crush this family with one signature.”

" We could’ve had access to the Lancaster empire through you but now we lost it." Her father flared.

Clara stared at them, mouth parted in disbelief. “You didn’t care about him. Stop pretending to do so now!"

“ Shut up! ” Mitchell interrupted coldly.

He began pacing the room.

“You ruined it. The boy was dirt in your eyes. We all thought so, I’ll admit that. But now? Now he’s holding every card and we’re buried in debt he'll soon become aware of.”

" What are you saying? I thought you said there was no evidence" She asked.

Mitchell threw a stack of papers on the bed. Clara recognized them immediately.

They were debt records, sealed court agreements, collateral documents.

“You think he’s going to let us slide when he finds out?” Mitchell said, bitterly. “He’ll bury us. And guess what? He has the resources to do it without breaking a sweat.”

Clara swallowed. “Enough!"

“I made a mistake, okay? What do you want me to do? cry in public? Apologize on my knees? He doesn’t even care about me anymore!”

Her father’s tone darkened.

“No, but maybe, just maybe, he still remembers who you used to be to him. And we’re going to use that.”

Clara froze.

“…What?”

Mitchell walked to her, stared her down.

“You’re going to reach him. We want you to get close to him again. Say whatever you have to. Cry, beg, flirt, remind him of the history you two shared. Make him believe he still matters to you.”

Clara stared at them, stunned.

“You want me to manipulate him? To get on his good grace?” Clara whispered.

Her mother shrugged coldly. “Call it what you want. We call it survival.”

“But he hates me now,” Clara explained. " I can see it in his eyes,"

“That’s your fault,” Regina said.

Mitchell's voice lowered a little “You owe this family, Clara. Because of you, our debt is back in the spotlight. Reporters are sniffing around. And soon, the Lancaster legal team will be pulling old contracts. If Evan decides to assess them... we lose everything.”

“So figure it out, daughter.

Charm him. Befriend him.

Or marry him again, if that’s what it takes.”

Soon it was evening and the sky wept heavily

Rain poured in sheets over the sprawling Lancaster estate, cascading off the iron gates like a curtain drawn between two worlds.

Beyond the towering fence, Clara stood, drenched to the bone, makeup washed away, mascara smudged like bruises under her eyes.

Her designer heels bent slightly on the tiled ground, but she didn’t move.

She couldn’t.

She just stood there… crying.

The guards had already informed her:

“Mr. Lancaster isn’t taking guests.”

But she didn’t leave.

She couldn’t.

Her heart pounded in sync with the rain as she stared up at the massive black gates, lit dimly by gold security lights.

She clutched her coat tighter, whispering through sobs.

“Evan… please.”

Inside the mansion, Classical music played softly in the background.

Evan sat in his lounge chair, wrapped in a sleek suit, a half-full glass of wine in hand. His gaze didn’t shift from the massive security monitor mounted in front of him.

It showed the front gates in crystal clarity.

Clara.

She was soaked and shivering.

Evan took a slow sip of wine, swirling it thoughtfully as the screen flickered with her image.

She was saying something, over and over, her lips trembling but the audio was off.

And that was fine.

He didn’t need to hear it.

He already knew.

He knew she was probably regretting her decision”

“But it's too late for that.”

He pressed a button.

The monitor switched off.

He leaned back in silence, letting the wine sit on his tongue before swallowing.

Outside, Clara fell to her knees in the mud, sobbing harder now, her breath steaming in the cold.

Back inside, Evan’s assistant entered the room.

“Sir,” he said quietly, “she’s still outside.”

Evan didn’t look up.

“Let her stay,” he said. “She can learn what it feels like to be left in the cold.”

He stood up

" Make sure she’s gone before sunrise,” he said.

“And have the cameras wiped. I don’t want to remember this.”

Then he walked away.

Outside, Clara still knelt in the rain.

He didn’t need to think about it again.

He stopped briefly at the base of the grand staircase and glanced sideways at a framed photo on the wall, a picture of his mother, serene, strong, holding him as a baby.

He let out a quiet breath.

Then whispered to himself,

“She threw me away when I had nothing.

And now she cries when I have everything.”

Pathetic!

“ Sadly but I’m not that boy anymore,” he muttered as he continued his walk.