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Chapter 8
Clarisse walked toward the hospital room alone, steadying herself against the wall. The sharp whispers echoing through the corridor
pierced her ears.
“That Grace is so lucky. Her stepfather treats her like a princess, and her mate is drop–dead gorgeous.”
“Word is, her mate didn’t just book the entire VIP ward, he even brought in a team of specialists from Moonrest Hollow. They’ve been at it the whole day, and he hasn’t left her side for a second. Her stepfather and her mate are spoiling her so much. Grace must’ve done something really good in a past life…”
Before Clarisse realized it, she was standing at the door of that ward.
Through the gap in the half–open door, she saw Leopold bending down to adjust Grace’s IV drip. His long slender fingers moved delicately over the regulator.
Alpha Vexley was seated at the bedside, peeling an apple with practiced ease. The skin came off in a long, unbroken spiral. He sliced the fruit into small pieces and gently fed them to Grace, one by one.
Suddenly, Clarisse felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks without warning, stinging her skin.
She quickly wiped them away.
“Clarisse,” she whispered into the empty hallway, “who are you crying for? No one cares. You don’t get to cry.”
When she turned away, her back was straight and her steps were swift and steady.
Only her clenched palm gave her away, tiny lines of blood seeping through her skin.
For the next few days, Leopold never showed up.
It wasn’t until the day she was discharged that she saw the familiar black Maybach parked at the hospital entrance.
The window rolled down, revealing Leopold’s sharply defined profile.
“Get in,” he said, his voice as cold as ever.
Clarisse turned and started to walk away.
“Do you want me to fuck you in front of all these people?”
That made her stop dead in her tracks.
She couldn’t believe he’d say something like that. In the past, he used to threaten her like this to discipline her. Back then, she’d thought it was just a twisted form of affection. But now that his first love was back, what right did he have to treat her like this?
Gritting her teeth, she got into the car.
Leopold handed her a glossy auction catalog. “You’ve seemed down lately. Didn’t you used to love shopping? I’m taking you to an
auction today.”
Clarisse was about to refuse, but when she flipped to a certain page, her pupils contracted sharply.
It was her mother’s pearl necklace.
Ever since Margot had moved in, she’d claimed it gave her nightmares and made Alpha Vexley clear out every last one of her mother’s belongings.
Clarisse had begged, pleaded, but all she got in return was Alpha Vexley’s cold reply, “She’s dead. Keeping her things only brings bad
luck.”
She never thought she’d see her mother’s favorite necklace again, especially not here.
Chapter 8
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Her hand clenched around the catalog so tightly the page crumpled in her palm.
With trembling fingers, she pulled out her phone and quickly texted her private lawyer. It read,
“Sell every piece of trousseau I’ve stored in my bank’s safety deposit box. Immediately.”
She was willing to give up everything for that necklace.
The auction hall glittered with luxury.
When Clarisse followed Leopold into the VIP section, her eyes instantly landed on Grace, seated in a reserved seat.
She was wearing a pristine white dress and smiling sweetly at her.
“Clarisse!” Grace hooked her arm through Clarisse’s affectionately. “I told Leopold I wanted to apologize to you at the auction and I didn’t think he’d actually bring you.” She winked. “You two must be really close.”
Clarisse froze, her whole body tense.
She slowly turned her head to look at Leopold.
He was focused on the auction list, his sculpted profile bathed in the warm overhead light. He, however, didn’t spare her a single glance.
So that’s what this was.
He hadn’t brought her because he noticed she’d been down. He wasn’t trying to cheer her up.
He brought her because Grace wanted to “apologize,” and he just tagged her along like a convenient prop.
But strangely, the pain she expected never came.
Clarisse only felt a hollow emptiness in her chest, like someone had carved a piece out of her. But the wound had already begun to scar
over.
Chapter B
