Chased By My Billionaire Ex-husband

Diana’s POV

The moment Harris, the producer, saw her photo, his reaction was exactly as I had predicted. His face lit up, and a twisted hunger filled his eyes. "Her," he said, his voice firm with desire. "I want her."

He didn’t bother hiding his intentions, expressing his desires openly. He spoke about how much he wanted to break someone like Claire, to see her lose that air of purity she carried.

His words were vile, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t afford to. This was business, and I was good at keeping my emotions out of it.

"Consider it done," I had replied smoothly, hiding the discomfort his enthusiasm stirred within me.

Later, he even told me that he didn’t want her on the set because of her cocky attitude just like me.

Now, as I sat at the party, watching my plan unfold, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and unease. On one hand, I was on the brink of achieving everything I wanted— revenge on Claire and a secure place in the producer’s upcoming film. On the other hand, I knew I was walking a dangerous line.

If this went wrong, the consequences could destroy more than just Claire’s reputation. It could drag me down as well. But I pushed those thoughts aside. I had come too far to back out now.

"All that matters is the result," I reminded myself. "By the end of tonight, Claire’s untouchable image will be a thing of the past. And I will finally have everything I deserve."

With that, I straightened my posture and forced a confident smile. It was time to see the plan through. There was no room for hesitation, not when the stakes were this high.

Author’s POV

Producer Harris could barely contain his excitement as he glanced at the time. He had been waiting for this moment ever since Claire Reed walked into his office for that audition months ago. There was something about her— her striking features, her quiet confidence —that made her stand out from the rest.

From that very moment, he had wanted her, but approaching her wasn’t easy. Claire was different from the usual actresses who would flock to him, eager to please for a chance at stardom. She kept her distance, maintaining a professional demeanor that made it clear she wouldn’t be easily swayed by charm or power.

That only made him want her more.

When Susan began feeding him stories about Claire’s so-called "trashy attitude," it had piqued his interest even further. According to Susan, Claire was arrogant, ungrateful, and thought herself above everyone else. Harris hated women like that— women who didn’t understand their place.

"She needs to be put in her place," Susan had said over drinks one evening, her voice dripping with disdain. Harris couldn’t have agreed more.

Though he desired Susan as well. But he was wary of her. Susan was someone related to Evander, and he couldn’t possibly offend that God man! While he wanted Susan, he was craving for Claire even more.

Still, he hadn’t figured out how to get close to Claire. His usual tactics didn’t seem like they would work on her. He couldn’t risk a direct approach and scare her off; she wasn’t the type to take the bait easily.

Then Diana came into the picture with her unexpected offer.

The call had come out of the blue. At first, Harris hadn’t known what to make of it. Diana, the seasoned actress with an air of untouchable grace, wasn’t someone he would have expected to offer her something this big. Yet, there she was, laying out a plan that sounded almost too good to be true.

"You want Claire?" Diana had said as her tone was casual but calculated. "I can help you with that. All I need is your assurance that I will have your support for my next role."

Harris had been taken aback. Diana was known for her sharp mind and ability to manipulate situations to her advantage, but this was on another level. He couldn’t help but admire her audacity.

"What’s in it for you?" he had asked, leaning back in his chair, intrigued.

Diana’s laughter had been soft but laced with venom. "Let’s just say Claire and I have some unfinished business. This benefits both of us. You get what you want, and I get to see her fall from grace. Consider it a win-win. Either, way... you already get to have me, didn’t you?"

The plan she proposed was flawless. Claire would attend the party, completely unaware of what awaited her. Harris wouldn’t even need to make the first move; Diana would ensure she was in the right place, at the right time, and in the right condition.

Now, as he sipped his drink and watched the crowd, Harris felt a surge of anticipation. He had already sent word to his assistant to keep an eye on Claire’s movements. The drug would take care of the rest, and all he had to do was wait for her to stumble into his carefully prepared trap.

"She won’t be so high and mighty after tonight," he muttered to himself, a smirk playing on his lips.

But as he adjusted his tie and scanned the room once more, an unsettling thought crossed his mind. Diana’s offer had been a little too convenient. Was she playing him too?

Harris shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. As long as Claire ended up where he wanted her, the rest was irrelevant. He took another sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing as he finally spotted her in the crowd.

"Tonight is going to be interesting," he murmured, leaning forward slightly, ready to pounce at the right moment.

Claire, on the other hand, was being cautious. A strange unease settled in her chest, urging her to leave the party. She decided to inform Damian before leaving, but after scanning the crowded hall, she realized he was nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?" she thought, glancing around one more time. But there was no sign of him.

"It seems he is really busy!" she muttered to herself, frustration bubbling up.

Rolling her eyes, she turned to leave when a waiter suddenly collided with her, spilling a glass of wine all over her dress. The icy coldness of the liquid seeped into the fabric, staining her chest and leaving her feeling utterly awkward.

"Damn it!" she hissed as she took a step back.

"I am so sorry! I didn’t mean it!" the waiter stammered as he bowed his head repeatedly in apology.

Claire sighed, waving her hand dismissively. "It’s alright. Please stop apologizing. It was just an accident."

"No, please let me help you!" the waiter insisted, looking genuinely panicked. He gestured toward the nearby washroom. "You can clean up there, ma’am. I will make arrangements for you."

Before she could protest, he handed her a key. "This is for a guest room provided by the hotel. You can change into some fresh clothes there."

"Oh, thanks, but I don’t think it’s necessary..." Claire began, but the waiter cut her off, practically begging.

"Please, ma’am, I insist. If you don’t take it, I might lose my job."

Claire relented with a small sigh when she saw him literally begging her. "Fine, I will take it. Thank you."

"I will wait for you outside," the waiter said with a grateful nod. "Please take your time."

Claire entered the washroom, glancing at the stained fabric. She muttered under her breath about the inconvenience as she turned on the tap. Just then, her phone buzzed in her handbag.

She fished it out and saw Damian’s name flashing on the screen. Finally, he was contacting her.

"Where are you? I can’t see you anywhere," Damian’s deep voice resonated through the line, sounding a little annoyed.

"I should be asking you that," Claire said, her tone laced with irritation. "I have been looking for you, but you have been MIA the entire evening."

"I was busy handling a few things," Damian replied vaguely, his tone dismissive. "Are you still at the party?"

"Barely," Claire muttered as she leaned against the sink. "I was about to leave. This whole thing doesn’t feel right."

"What do you mean?" Damian asked, his voice sharp now, as though sensing her unease.

"I don’t know," Claire admitted. "Something feels... off. Maybe it’s just the atmosphere, but—"

A knock on the washroom door interrupted her.

"Ma’am, is everything alright? Do you need anything else?" the waiter’s muffled voice came from the other side.

Claire frowned, glancing at the door. "No, I am fine," she called back.

"Who was that?" Damian’s voice was tense on the other end of the line.

"Just a waiter," Claire said, brushing it off. "He spilled wine on me earlier and insisted I clean up. He even gave me a key to some room to change into casual clothes."

"What?" Damian’s tone shifted, a sudden urgency in his voice. "Claire, don’t go anywhere. Stay exactly where you are."

"Why are you—"

"Just listen to me," Damian cut her off. "I am coming to find you. Tell me where you are."

Claire hesitated, the strange feeling in her gut intensifying. "I am in the washroom near the west wing. But what’s going on?"

"I will explain when I get there," Damian said firmly. "Don’t leave that spot, Claire."

Before she could press him for answers, he hung up.

Claire stared at her phone, unease twisting her stomach into knots. Damian’s abruptness only added to her anxiety. She shook her head, trying to calm herself. Maybe she was overthinking things.