Chapter134 – Know your place
She pulled free of Atticus’s grasp and rushed to Hannah.
“I’m so sorry. He’s always been like this. I’ll cover every bit of the damage, I promise—”
Seeing that she didn’t run to William made something in Atticus ease. His fingers unclenched, but his gaze flicked toward William, full of hostility.
Clarissa turned back to Atticus, face tight. “Apologize. Now.”
Atticus scowled, and muttered begrudgingly, “I’m sorry. I lost my temper. But when I saw someone scheming against my sis, I… couldn’t help myself. Please forgive me.”
Clarissa closed her eyes for a second. Her pulse was pounding.
William spoke then, cutting through the tension. “You’re Atticus.”
Atticus smirked. “Honored that Professor William knows my name.”
William frowned. The boy before him radiated a wild, dangerous aura.
He turned to Clarissa. “It was a misunderstanding. There’s no need to compensate me. I’m the one who crossed a line. I’m sorry.”
Clarissa turned her face away, unable to meet his eyes.
Atticus stepped forward again, his smile all charm now—his fingers gently brushed her lower back, guiding her toward the exit.
“Let’s go, sister.”
“…Alright.”
Then she took out a check from her bag and handed it to Hannah, who immediately waved it away.
Clarissa placed it firmly on the table anyway and offered one last, heartfelt apology.
Watching Clarissa walk away, Atticus took a few slow steps toward William.
William met his gaze calmly. “Something else?”
Atticus gave a lazy, almost mocking smile. “Objectively speaking, you're a good man.”
William raised an eyebrow.
Atticus continued, his tone dipped in derision. “I’ve dabbled in your field, Professor. I know how hard it is to get where you are. So, cherish it. But…” he tilted his head slightly, the sneer sharpening, “you’d be smart not to chase after her.”
He turned as if to walk away. But before he'd made it far, William’s voice rang out—cool and devoid of emotion.
“I don’t care what your relationship with Clarissa is. She’s an adult. She can choose for herself. Why are you warning me? No confidence in your chances? Or were you also the one she turned down?”
Atticus froze.
The smile vanished from his face like glass shattering. His shoulders tensed, and when he spun back around, his expression had darkened into something cold and feral.
“What did you just say?”
“I think you heard me clearly,” William said calmly, his tone almost bored. A brilliant mind, yes, but still just an eighteen-year-old boy.
For a second, it looked like Atticus might snap. But then, he inhaled slowly. Just like that, the fury was swallowed whole, and a smug smile curled back onto his lips.
“Heh… So this is it? You’re declaring war?” He laughed softly. “Please. Who the hell do you think you are?”
William’s gaze sharpened. “Feelings don’t obey logic. There’s no right or wrong.” he paused, eyes narrowing, “Even if she doesn’t choose me—she still might not choose you. And we both know why.”
Atticus clenched his fists so tightly the veins on his hands bulged. He knew—knew better than anyone—that Clarissa had always seen him as a child. He hated his age. He hated the frailty of his past self. He hated the shame that clung to him.
William’s words weren’t just taunting—they were flaying him open.
But Atticus didn’t show pain. Instead, he smiled wider, the grin edged in something dangerous.
“I underestimated you,” he said with a chuckle. “But the tougher the opponent, the sweeter the victory. Don’t you think?”
William frowned. He regretted letting his emotions get the better of him. Clarissa wasn’t a prize to be fought over. She was a person. And neither of them had the right to treat her like a battleground.
“Atticus,” he said slowly, “I know what you are. But if you really love her, then don’t hurt her.”
Atticus’s face turned cold as ice. “And what gives you the right to say that?”
He stepped forward, voice low and sharp. “I’m the one closest to her now. You? You’re just some outsider. Know your place.”
With that, he spun on his heel and walked off, done with the conversation.
Clarissa reached her front door after walking for nearly ten minutes. She paused, fumbling for her keys, before realizing—there were no footsteps behind her.
She turned, glanced down the steps, and frowned. Where was Atticus?
She slipped the key back into her bag and went downstairs again. But she’d barely taken a few steps when she saw him approaching from the shadows.
“Atticus?” she called out.
He strode toward her. “I almost got hit by a car just now. And you didn’t even look back.”
Her eyes widened. “What? That can’t be!”
“Of course. You were too busy making eyes at another man. I was so fucking jealous I couldn’t see straight.”
“Don’t say things like that,” she snapped, flustered.
“Why not?” he asked, stepping closer.
His tall frame loomed over her, and the air between them thickened.
Clarissa inhaled sharply, body tense as she instinctively took a step back. His scent—clean sweat, spice, something purely masculine—wrapped around her.
“S-Since you’re fine, let’s go back.” Her voice was shaky.
And with that, she turned and bolted upstairs.
Atticus watched her go, his eyes glinting with something feral and hungry. But he didn’t hesitate—he followed.
Clarissa had just stepped inside and closed the door behind her when it clicked shut with a quiet finality.
Before she could even catch her breath, strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her back into a hard, familiar chest.
She gasped, instinctively trying to break free, but Atticus’s grip only tightened, locking her in place.
“Atticus! What are you doing?” she snapped, voice shaking with anger.
“What do you think?” he murmured darkly. “I’m checking if there's any scent of another man left on you…”
His lips brushed against her ear, and before she could react, his tongue dragged slowly along the curve of her neck.
Clarissa trembled violently, her breath caught in her throat. “A-Atticus, stop… don’t—”
But he didn’t stop.
His chin rested against her collarbone, and his voice, though soft, carried a bone-deep chill. “You knew William has feelings for you… and you still spent with him in that room. Are you trying to drive me insane, Clarissa?”
Her heart stuttered. “You’ve got it all wrong! I met William for something else entirely—”
“Something you didn’t think I needed to know?” he cut in coldly. “You’d rather go to him than come to me? Is that what I am to you, Clarissa? Unreliable? Unworthy?”
“No… It’s not like that,” she said quickly, shaking her head.
But Atticus’s expression only darkened further.
His eyes landed on the folder she was holding. Without warning, he snatched it from her hands.
“Atticus, give it back!” she cried out, lunging for it.
Too late. He’d already opened it and was scanning its contents. His brows furrowed.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I… I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry?” he echoed, his tone sharp. “Or did you just never plan to rely on me at all?”
She couldn’t answer. Because, deep down, she hadn’t planned to tell him. She had never been the kind of person who leaned on others. Not even him.
Atticus tossed the folder onto the coffee table with a thud and turned back to her.
His face was unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, burning eyes—were filled with something wild. Possessive. Dangerous.
Clarissa’s instincts screamed at her. She took a step back, voice trembling. “Atticus… what are you going to do?”
He moved toward her slowly, a predator with his prey in sight. “What do you think I want to do?” he said, voice low.