Chapter 130: There is no way he’s earning this money himself
"Burp~"
Clara rubbed her stomach as she sat cross-legged on the bed, letting out a satisfied sigh.
She had eaten far more than her stomach could comfortably handle.
Still... it had worked.
For a little while, stuffing herself with food had distracted her from thinking about Dominic.
She gently patted her stomach.
"Tomorrow," she declared with complete determination, "I’ll eat even more."
Her stomach responded with a small grumble, almost as if it were protesting the idea.
Clara frowned. "What? It’s for a good cause."
Another tiny rumble.
"I wasn’t asking for your opinion."
Shaking her head, she reached for her phone.
The sooner she focused on work, the sooner she’d stop thinking about her husband.
Opening the message Mark had sent earlier, she carefully went through the list of places Thomas had been visiting over the past few days.
Her brows gradually knitted together.
"Just how much money does this man have?"
She couldn’t help but mutter the question aloud.
Every club on the list catered exclusively to wealthy clients. Membership alone cost a fortune, let alone the amount of money people usually spent inside.
Then she remembered what had happened at the warehouse.
Thomas had casually thrown bundles of cash at the loan sharks, clearing his debt in one go without even blinking.
The memory erased every remaining doubt.
"There is no way he’s earning this money himself."
Thomas had spent years drowning in loans, gambling away whatever little he managed to borrow. A man like him couldn’t suddenly become wealthy overnight.
Unless... someone was paying him.
Or rather... someone was funding him.
"And they’re being careful enough to cover their tracks."
Clara narrowed her eyes.
Whoever was backing Thomas had made sure there were no obvious financial records leading back to them.
That alone told her they weren’t ordinary people.
They had money. Influence. And enough experience to hide both.
Which raised an even bigger question.
Why Thomas?
He was unreliable, greedy, and far from intelligent.
No one would invest in a man like him unless he was useful for something.
"You’re just someone’s pawn," Clara murmured. "And I intend to find the one pulling the strings."
She read through the list again, this time paying close attention to the names instead of the dates.
Most of the clubs had only been visited once or twice.
But one name appeared again... and again... and again.
Her gaze stopped. "Crimson Crest."
She quietly repeated the name, her eyes narrowing with interest.
That was the place Thomas had visited more frequently than anywhere else.
Not only that, but almost every unexplained transaction in Mark’s investigation seemed to coincide with his visits there.
A faint smile slowly appeared on Clara’s lips.
"There you are."
She tapped the name on her screen.
"If Thomas has been meeting someone..."
Her smile deepened.
"...then Crimson Crest is where I’ll find the answers."
With renewed determination burning in her eyes, Clara locked her phone and lay on the bed.
Whatever secrets Thomas had been hiding... she was about to uncover every single one of them.
With that thought in her mind, Clara finally closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
"But I still miss my personal teddy."
Unaware that on the plane Dominic sneezed, clearly remembering his wife, who must be missing him right now.
***
Meanwhile, back at the Hayes Mansion, Dorothy was still fuming over the humiliation she had suffered earlier that day.
The incident at the bakery replayed endlessly in her mind.
In front of so many people, Noran and Martha had openly defended Clara and, without hesitation, put Dorothy in her place.
By the time she had left the bakery, she felt as though everyone had been laughing at her.
Dorothy clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
She had spent years building the image of a respected socialite—someone others admired, envied, and never dared to look down upon.
Yet in a single afternoon...
That carefully crafted image had cracked.
"That wretched Clara..." she hissed through gritted teeth. "Why does she have to haunt me everywhere I go?"
Her eyes burned with resentment.
Ever since Clara had changed, nothing seemed to go Dorothy’s way.
It was as though the girl she had once controlled so easily had become an entirely different person.
At that moment, Vincent walked into the living room. Seeing Dorothy’s dark expression, he frowned.
"What did Clara do this time?" he asked with a weary sigh.
Whenever Dorothy was in a foul mood, Clara’s name was almost always involved.
He had long since stopped finding it surprising.
Dorothy slowly turned to look at him. The icy glare she gave him was enough to make Vincent instinctively take a step back.
In Dorothy’s eyes... everything was Vincent’s fault.
If he had kept his affair a secret—or better yet, never betrayed their marriage in the first place—none of this would have happened.
Years ago, despite having a wife and a family, Vincent had chosen another woman. And from that affair... Clara had been born.
Dorothy had wanted nothing more than to leave him. But she hadn’t.
Not because she had forgiven him. Not because she still loved him. She stayed because walking away would have meant giving up the luxurious life and social status she had spent decades protecting.
Her pride was greater than her happiness.
Without saying a single word, Dorothy brushed past Vincent and walked out of the room.
Vincent stared after her in confusion.
"...What did I say?"
He genuinely had no idea why he had become today’s target.
Meanwhile, Dorothy continued walking down the hallway, her mind racing.
I have to stop Clara.
With Clara’s popularity growing day by day, it was only a matter of time before someone began questioning the story they had fabricated years ago to hide Vincent’s infidelity.
If the truth ever came to light... their reputation would be destroyed.
No.
She couldn’t allow that to happen.
Lost in thought, Dorothy suddenly came to a halt. She found herself standing in front of a room that had remained untouched for sometime now.
Clara’s old bedroom.
Dorothy stared silently at the closed door. For a long moment, she simply stood there.
Then... a thought flashed across her mind.
Slowly, the corners of her lips curled upward into a sinister smile.
"So..." She softly pushed the door open.
"This is how I’ll strike back."
Stepping inside, Dorothy carefully looked around the room.
Dust covered most of the furniture, yet many of Clara’s old belongings remained exactly where they had been left years ago.
Her smile widened.
"Sometimes..." She gently closed the door behind her. "...the best way to destroy someone isn’t by attacking them directly."
Her eyes glimmered with malicious intent as they swept across the room.
"It’s by using the ghosts of their past."
The door clicked shut. And inside the silent room, Dorothy’s smile grew even colder as the first piece of her counterattack began to take shape.