Chapter 148 - The Bowler (1/2)

Gabriel removes himself from the press conference like some rock star who had just finished a concert. In the hallway outside the conference room of the TXCI building, he joins Claire, who runs up to him and throws her arms around him.

”Thank you,” she whispers, teary-eyed. ”Thank you so much, Gab.”

”I should have done that right when we first became real. Should not have prolonged that lie.”

Claire smiles, tearing flowing down her cheeks. ”But still. That was a load off my ċhėst.”

Catherine Buenavista, who has been watching this exchange, says, ”That was a bold move, Sir. I didn't know you were set to do it, though.” She laughs nervously, as people mill around them. ”I would have advised otherwise, but—”

”It's alright, Cath. I take all the responsibility.” He takes Claire's hand. ”Now, we'd have to go and check on Miguel's condition. The doctor said—”

He never finishes his words—Michelle Alcantara appears before them with murder in her face. She has her eyes on Claire.

”So I was right all along,” Michelle scoffs, her laser-eyes burning into Claire's face. ”You were an impostor. A low-life, social-climbing fiancée for hire. I knew it ever since I saw you in that party. You had none of the patina of glitz and glamour, you faker!”

”How dare you—” Gabriel begins to say, but Claire stops him, and faces Michelle.

”You know what,” Claire says, obviously trying hard to hold back her own rage. ”Who needs glitz and glamour when you have real love, Michelle? Do you like what you have now? Has it brought you the contentment your heart needs?”

Michelle flashes a smile, but it's one that totally lacks joy. ”I have everything I need, girl. And more. And none of what I have you will ever get, in this lifetime or the next. You will always be the woman some rich man hired to be his fake fiancée.”

”Where were you when Gabriel was out there, telling the whole world how his fake relationship has become real?” If you'd look at Claire's face, you'd think she's the higher person trying to drill some sense into a mad woman. ”Fake is soooo yesterday,” she says, mimicking Michelle's accent and behavior. ”Today, it's as real as the ground we're standing on.”

Michelle could only bȧrė her fangs. ”Slut!”

Claire laughs at that and shakes her head. ”At least I didn't cheat on anyone who had loved me for ten years, Michelle. So between the two of us, who's the absolute sŀut?”

Michelle Alcantara's eyes gleam with pure anger for a split-second, then her hand flies into a blur, slapping Claire in the face so hard that the impact makes her reeling back.

Claire touches her cheek in disbelief—here, in public, surrounded by reporters who just minutes ago were regaled by Gabriel's tale of extraordinary love and affection, Michelle Alcantara, a supposedly respected businesswoman, stoops down so low Claire wonders if her reputation would ever recover. She straightens herself up and even bȧrės her face, taunting Michelle to slap her once more. Claire thinks if she slaps Michelle back, she would lose the upper hand in the eyes of the crowd that Michelle had unwittingly given her. She recalls the events of that pool party from weeks ago, when she and Michelle had a slapping-and-hair-pulling match right in front of Gabriel's friends. She's not that kind of girl anymore. Maybe it has something to do with Gabriel's influence in her life and attitude.

So she holds back, although her cheek stings and she knows it's beet red from the force of that slap.

”Come out of that fake meekness, tiger woman,” Michelle taunts, obviously trying to engage her in some catfight. ”Come out, faker.”