Chapter123 – Don’t what?
He looked at her, and in an instant, the ice in his expression melted. He smiled softly. “It’s nothing.”
But Clarissa’s chest tightened with rage. She didn’t understand it herself, but watching Lyra hit him had made her blood boil.
She turned slowly toward Lyra. Her voice was low and dangerously calm. “Why did you hit him... in front of me?”
Lyra’s eyes welled up again. “Sister… no matter how badly you treat me, I’ve always accepted it. But if someone hurts Dorian, I won’t back down!”
Clarissa gave a cold little smile. A wicked curl formed at the corner of her mouth.
Oh? So this was the script now? She was to play the wicked, jealous older sister?
Fine. She raised her hand and slapped Lyra across the face. Hard.
The sound cracked through the room like a whip. Lyra’s head snapped to the side. The red blooming on her cheek was deeper than the one on Atticus’s.
“You...” Lyra gasped, clutching her cheek. “You hit me...”
“I did,” Clarissa said coolly. “Atticus hit Dorian because I didn’t teach him better. How I punish him is none of your business.”
Lyra was stunned, blinking through the tears. She looked toward Dorian, pleading, “Dorian...”
“Clarissa, that’s enough!” Dorian snapped, his face was dark. “Don’t go too far.”
“Too far?” Clarissa laughed, voice cold. “Dorian! Should I pull up the surveillance footage from last night and let your lovely wife watch it?”
Dorian’s face turned black.
He knew exactly what she was referring to. Clarissa had only grown more stunning over the years. Every time he met her… he had evil intentions, especially last night.
“It was a misunderstanding,” he said stiffly. “Is there really a need to escalate this?”
Clarissa crossed her arms. “I’ve apologized. For the sake of the ties between our families, I’ll pretend last night never happened. But if I tell your grandfather about it?”
“Would he break your other two limbs? Who is the shameless one?”
She turned then, smiling at Lyra through veiled contempt. “Oh, that’s right... your precious wife doesn’t know yet, does she? How pitiful.”
Lyra’s lips parted. She turned to Dorian in confusion. “Dorian… what is she talking about? What happened between you and Clarissa?”
“Shut up!” Dorian barked, eyes flashing. And Lyra flinched.
He used to love her sweet naiveté, her clinginess, her dumb questions. He used to find her innocence charming.
But now? Now she just looked stupid. Weak. Useless.
This was the first time Dorian had ever raised his voice at her.
Lyra stood frozen in place, stunned into silence. Even the tears in her eyes seemed to pause.
Clarissa didn’t waste another second in that room. Her heels clicked sharply against the tile as she turned and strode out of the ward, not looking back.
Apologizing had been a waste of time—Atticus had been right.
She hated Dorian more than ever now. That bastard.
And if he dared to come after Atticus for this… he’d have to go through her first.
Atticus lingered behind a moment, his gaze cool as it settled on Lyra, who looked pale and shaken.
That smile returned to his lips—bright, charming, but unmistakably dangerous.
“You know,” he said in a soft voice. “Maybe I did deserve that slap. But...”
His voice dropped. The smile vanished, replaced with something sharp and cold.
“You’d better keep an eye on your man. Tell him to stop chasing other people’s women. Not everyone thinks trash is treasure like you do, and I also don’t like it when my woman is harassed.”
His words were low—just between them. Dorian didn’t hear it. But Lyra did.
Her face drained of all color. She looked like she’d been slapped for the second time.
And with that, Atticus turned, walked away, and caught up with Clarissa.
She had barely made it down the hall when she felt arms wrap tightly around her from behind.
“Clarissa…” His voice was low, breath brushing her ear.
“Att—Atticus?”
“You really do care about me,” he murmured, pulling her close like a big, affectionate wolfhound, his cheek rubbing against hers with intimacy.
Clarissa pushed at his face, flustered. “Stop it, this is a hospital!”
The heat crawling up her cheeks could’ve rivaled a fever. A few people glanced at them in surprise, only making her blush deepen.
Taking a deep breath, Clarissa looked up into his warm, amused eyes. “Let’s go home,” she whispered.
“Okay.” Atticus didn’t hesitate. He laced his fingers with hers—tightly, possessively.
She struggled at first, but his grip was firm, and she eventually let him have his way.
........
Back at home, Clarissa sat down on the sofa with a gauze-wrapped bag of boiled eggs in her lap. She glanced at him and beckoned with a slight wave.
“Atticus, come here.”
He approached immediately. “What is it, sister?” he asked playfully.
She hesitated as his tall frame loomed over her, but she patted the cushion beside her. “Sit.”
He followed her gesture, eyes gleaming with unspoken intent, and lowered himself next to her.
Clarissa’s breath hitched. He was close. His masculine scent filled her senses.
Seeing the red welt still faintly blooming on one side of his cheek, she leaned toward him and gently pressed the warm bag of eggs against his skin, rubbing it with soft care.
“Does it hurt?” she asked quietly.
Atticus smiled, his voice teasing. “Worth it… get pampered by my sister.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” she mumbled, cheeks turning pink.
When she looked up, he was already staring at her with those deep, expressive eyes. His smile—smug and boyish—sent her heart into a tailspin.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she shoved the warm compress into his hands. “You do it yourself!”
He took one look at the eggs, tossed them onto the coffee table, and casually leaned closer.
Their thighs brushed. Her breath caught.
“Don’t—” she started, voice shaking.
“Don’t what?” he whispered, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “I haven’t done anything… unless…” He leaned in until his lips were nearly at her ear. “Are you secretly hoping I will?”
“You—!” Flustered, she shoved him away and scrambled to the end of the sofa like he’d caught fire. “Stop messing around! Go stay at Phoenix’s for a few days!”
“My master’s place? Isn’t that a little extreme?”
“Dorian’s vindictive. I’m worried he’ll try something.”
“What about you?” Atticus asked, his voice low.
“I’ll be fine. He wouldn’t dare come after me.”
There was too much history between their families. And after what he did, he didn’t have the nerve to come for her.
“I’m not leaving,” Atticus said, the usual playful glint was gone. “Clarissa, I’m not some helpless kid you need to protect anymore.”
His gaze was sharp—serious.
Clarissa blinked, looked down instinctively. “I… I know.”
“No, you don’t,” he said quietly. “You have no idea.”
All these years—everything he’d done in the shadows—she had no clue.
“I’m not weak. I’m not useless. And I won’t leave your side.”
Clarissa’s heart beat unsteadily. That intense gaze… it stripped her bare.
She looked away, her voice trembling. “Atticus, we… I…”
The words wouldn’t come. Her face burned, her breath shallow.
Atticus looked at Clarissa in front of him and felt something in his chest tighten.
She was so beautiful. So unbearably adorable.
He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. “Clarissa…”
She stiffened, instinctively resisting, but his embrace was warm.
“It’s okay if you don’t accept me,” he whispered. “It’s okay if you don’t love me back right now. As long as I can stay close to you… just like this… that’s enough for me.”
“Atticus…” Clarissa's voice trembled. She stopped struggling, her arms limp against his chest, the sour ache in her heart rising again.