Chapter100 – Confession
“Someone pushed me. But it was dark, and there were too many people… I couldn’t see who it was.” She paused, then added with a sigh, “Also, the dress I was going to wear tonight—someone cut it. There’s always something going wrong at work lately.”
William’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Hidden in the shadows of the car’s dim interior, his eyes flashed with a cold fury. “I’ll have someone look into it.”
Clarissa nodded. “That would help. I’ll ask around too.”
William shot her a quick glance, then said in a quieter tone, “I thought you’d tell right away.”
If Clarissa had spoken up at the banquet, revealed she’d been attacked, the entire wedding would’ve collapsed. Chaos would’ve erupted.
Clarissa offered a gentle smile. “I didn’t want to ruin someone else’s wedding.”
William’s jaw flexed. “You wouldn’t have ruined anything.”
Clarissa blinked at him, taken aback. “It was your childhood friend’s wedding. You really don’t care?”
William didn’t answer. He just pulled the car into her complex. Clarissa pointed to the side of the road. “You can stop here.”
But William ignored her and drove straight into the lot. She didn’t protest—maybe he was just worried she’d catch a chill walking in soaked clothes.
When the car finally stopped, Clarissa opened the door. To her surprise, William got out too.
She turned around, her expression soft. “Thank you. For saving me. And for bringing me home. It’s late, so I’ll go—”
But before she could finish, his hand caught her wrist. “Clarissa.”
She froze, confused, her wide eyes lifting to meet his. “What is it?”
William didn’t answer at first. He stared at her, his heart thudding. His fingers curled tighter around her wrist, as if afraid she’d vanish.
And then—he pulled her into his arms.
Clarissa gasped. Her entire body stiffened with shock. This… wasn’t like him.
“I panicked,” William whispered, his breath brushing the shell of her ear. “When I saw you fall into the water, I thought I was going to lose you. I couldn’t breathe.”
“William… what are you doing?”
He leaned back just enough to look into her face, his eyes dark, sincere, and burning with a quiet hot.
“Don’t you get it?” he said. “I like you, Clarissa. I’ve liked you for a long time.”
Clarissa’s lips parted in disbelief.
William smiled bitterly, lowering his gaze. “You were always the one everyone watched. So dazzling. So far out of reach.”
He exhaled. “And I was just a nobody. No money, no name. But even after all these years… I can’t stop looking at you.”
He cupped her cheek gently. “You’ve only gotten brighter since leaving him. I couldn’t help myself.”
Clarissa was silent. Her mind spun wildly. She had never seen this side of him.
William lowered his hand slowly. “I’m not asking for an answer tonight. I just want a chance. To try. To show you what I feel.”
Clarissa stared at him. Her chest felt tight, her breath shallow.
How did things end up here?
She pushed him away on instinct—gently, but firmly. Her head was a mess, her heart unsteady.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… don’t shut me out completely.”
He hesitated, then asked, “You really don’t feel anything at all?”
Clarissa looked at him, lips trembling. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “This is all happening so fast.”
She turned her head away, but her eyes couldn’t help drifting back. William stood in the glow of the streetlamp, tall, steady, heartbreakingly sincere.
It was true—he had everything a woman could want. Good looks. Power. A quiet strength that made people listen. At his age, his net worth alone made him desirable. But it was the way he looked at her—like she was the only woman in the world—that made her chest ache.
Time had moved so quietly, and Atticus… he’d grown up. Was it finally time to let herself fall for someone again?
Beneath William’s gentle gaze, Clarissa lowered her eyes, her voice soft and hesitant. “Can you… give me a little time to think about it?”
Those words struck a chord deep in William’s chest. The spark he thought was extinguished flared to life again.
“Of course,” he said quickly, his voice filled with warmth.
He reached out and gently clasped her slender fingers. His touch was careful—almost reverent—as though afraid she might pull away.
“I thought you’d turn me down without a second thought. Thank you.”
Clarissa’s cheeks flushed, the first bloom of shy affection spreading across her face. She didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she nodded, her lashes fluttering as she murmured, “Mm.”
William’s heart softened further. She looked beautiful like this—unguarded and tender in the dim glow of the streetlight.
He leaned in without thinking, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. A fleeting touch. A whisper of something more.
Clarissa’s body tensed from the unexpected contact. William quickly stepped back, giving her space again. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I couldn’t help myself.”
She shook her head slightly, her face burning. “No… it’s okay.”
He wanted more—wanted to follow her inside, to be near her longer—but he knew better. She’d only just opened the door to her heart. He couldn’t rush her.
“It’s late,” he said, voice thick with restraint. “Get some rest.”
“You too. Drive safe,” she replied, eyes still downcast, the corners of her mouth curved into a quiet smile.
Neither of them noticed the dark silhouette standing behind the French window of Clarissa’s room—watching.
Atticus stood in the shadows, his expression unreadable. The soft kiss William had pressed to Clarissa’s forehead played over and over in his mind like a slow-burning torment.
His grip on the curtain tightened until his knuckles turned white, veins bulging against his skin.
.....
Clarissa stepped inside a moment later, still smiling unconsciously. The warmth of William’s touch lingered on her skin. Her heels clicked softly across the floor as she closed the door behind her.
The apartment was dark. Curtains drawn. Still.
“Atticus, I’m home,” she called gently. “Sorry I’m late.”
She reached for the light switch near the door—only to feel a warm hand cover hers.
A familiar breath brushed against her ear.
“Don’t turn it on,” Atticus said, voice low and steady. “I was going to light a candle.”
“Oh? Then hurry up. It’s too dark, I can’t see a thing.” Clarissa tilted her head and squinted into the room, her eyes just beginning to adjust. She could barely make out Atticus’s form.
What she didn’t see was the way his eyes gleamed in the darkness—sharp, possessive. Like a predator watching prey.
He stepped closer, curling his fingers around hers.
“If you can’t see, I’ll hold your hand,” he said softly. “I won’t let you fall.”
Clarissa let him guide her through the dark, unaware of the storm behind his calm demeanor.
Atticus’s gaze lowered, catching on the tailored dress that clung to her curves… and the men’s suit jacket draped loosely over her shoulders.
His expression darkened. Without warning, he pulled her gently—but insistently—toward the bathroom.
Before she could react, he slid the jacket from her shoulders and held it in his hands.
“Sis, take a shower first. I already ran the water, and your clothes are inside. Let me take care of this for you.”
Clarissa blinked, momentarily confused by the suddenness, but nodded. “…Alright.”