Chapter174 – Provoke me?
Clarissa stared. “You don’t think she’s… simple? Sweet? Charming, in a kind of innocent way?”
Atticus snorted. “Innocent? Please. I couldn’t tell.”
Then his tone shifted slightly as he looked her in the eye. “Clarissa, is this about the Lancaster family’s inheritance? Are you worried she’s going to try to compete with you for it?”
Clarissa let out a long breath and shook her head. “No. I’m not interested in that. I have no intention of fighting Lyra for anything. I just want to keep the peace.”
She glanced into the distance. “Besides… I’ve already got enough to live a good life. I don’t need anything more.”
Atticus looked at her, something flickering quietly in his eyes. She really meant it.
To Atticus, the Lancaster family fortune wasn’t particularly tempting—but if something was his, there was no way he’d let anyone else take it.
That was just who he was.
And Clarissa now? It was like she’d completely transformed. She wasn’t the woman she used to be. Her values, her attitude… everything about her felt different.
Almost like she’d become someone else entirely.
That unsettling thought flickered across his mind, and his pupils narrowed slightly.
“Clarissa,” he called out suddenly.
“Hmm?” she responded, turning toward him.
Atticus smiled lazily. “Can you grab some of those wild berries over there? I’m thirsty.”
Clarissa followed the direction he pointed. Sure enough, not far off, there was a small tree clustered with wild fruits. Scarlet raspberries were scattered on the ground, ripe and gleaming.
If Atticus said they were edible, she trusted they were safe. She gave him a quick nod and walked off.
Atticus leaned back against the trunk, still and composed, but his mind was anything but calm. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable. No one knew what he was thinking.
Just then, a small bird landed gently on his shoulder. It tilted its head and rubbed against him, completely unafraid.
Atticus smirked and held out his fingers. The bird hopped onto his hand, chirping happily as he played with it.
Man and bird, quietly enjoying a moment of peace.
But it didn’t last.
Footsteps echoed through the valley.
Startled, the bird launched into the air, and all the nearby butterflies scattered like falling petals in the wind.
Atticus lowered his hand, somewhat disappointed. He looked up.
Dorian stood a few paces away, dressed in a light hunting suit, a shotgun slung at his hip. At his side was Lyra, in a flowing white dress that made her look soft and innocent.
“Dorian,” Atticus said with a lopsided grin, “you scared them off. Clarissa’s gonna be disappointed when she gets back.”
Dorian’s jaw tightened. “Where is she?”
Atticus arched an eyebrow. “Why would I tell you?”
“You—!”
Before Dorian could step forward, Lyra grabbed his arm, her touch feather-light but deliberate. “Dorian, please…”
She stepped toward Atticus and tucked her hair back behind her ear, revealing her polished, picture-perfect smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly. “Dorian has a bit of a temper. Please don’t mind him. We’re just… worried about my sis. Is your injury healing well?”
Atticus gave a slow smile. “Clarissa’s been taking care of me. I’m in very good hands.”
“But what brings you both here?” he asked with polite curiosity.
Dorian cut in, his tone ice cold. “We got here first. You should know how to respect that. This place is ours. I’m asking you to leave.”
Ah, so that’s why Gabriel had looked at him strangely earlier.
Atticus chuckled. “I don’t mind leaving. But I have a feeling you’re the one who won’t be welcome here.”
“What a joke,” Dorian sneered.
Atticus gave no reply. Instead, he lifted the leaf flute to his lips and blew softly.
The valley answered.
Like a scene from a dream, the birds and butterflies returned. First a few, then dozens. Vibrant wings shimmered in the sunlight, and the air filled with color and motion as they surrounded Atticus once more.
Lyra gasped. She stared wide-eyed at the surreal spectacle unfolding before her, unable to believe what she was seeing.
And suddenly, Clarissa’s mocking words to June rang in Lyra’s ears:
> “Dorian? I could have a dozen men like him with a snap of my fingers. It’s only women like you—plain, shallow, desperate—who think you need a man to climb up in this world. I don’t need that. I never have.”
Clarissa had always been stunning, but now Lyra realized how easily men like Atticus would be drawn to her.
Without even realizing it, Lyra’s hands curled into fists at her sides.
Lyra’s glance made something flicker behind Dorian’s eyes—cold and dangerous. The next second, he raised his gun and pointed it straight at Atticus’s head.
“Atticus,” Dorian said, his voice low and hard. “Are you trying to provoke me?”
Instead of panic, Atticus’s brow arched, and a gleam of excitement sparked in his eyes. “Oh? You want to fight me, Dorian?”
“Dorian!” Lyra gasped, finally coming to her senses. She grabbed the front of his shirt in alarm.
“Stay out of it,” Dorian snapped. “This is between men.”
Lyra bit her lip, her fists tightening at her sides. She might’ve been slow to react at times, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew Dorian’s hostility was because of Atticus and Clarissa. The more Dorian fixated on Atticus, the more uneasy she felt.
She tugged on his arm again, her voice rising. “Dorian, let’s go. This place is huge—we don’t need to fight over it.”
Dorian didn’t budge.
Lyra’s eyes hardened. The thought of seeing Clarissa again—of watching Dorian ignore her in favor of Clarissa—made something boil inside her.
She yanked on his arm again, harder this time. “Dorian! I’m talking to you! Are you even listening?”
Dorian’s temple twitched. Then, with a violent motion, he shook her off.
And with a sharp bang—the gun discharged.
The shot echoed through the valley.
The barrel had tilted just slightly at the last second. It missed Atticus—but clipped a young eagle that had been gliding low through the air.
The bird hit the ground with a soft thud, a hole torn through its wing. Blood spread fast beneath it as it twitched and flailed—then went still.
Lyra went pale, her voice trembling. “Ah!” She made to move toward it, but Dorian held her back.
“Leave it. It’s nothing,” he said coolly.
Atticus crouched near the blood-spattered ground and gave a soft laugh. “How pitiful.”
Dorian sneered. “What? A cold bastard like you suddenly grows a heart?”
“I’m just a regular guy, Dorian,” Atticus replied mildly. “That little eagle barely knew how to fly, and you killed it. Kind of brutal, don’t you think?”
Dorian scoffed. “It’s just a damn bird. Quit the act. You're the most fake, sanctimonious bastard I’ve ever met.”
Atticus’s smile widened.
That’s when Dorian felt it—that sinking twist in his gut. He turned instinctively and froze.
Clarissa stood just a few steps away, holding a large leaf cradling freshly picked wild berries. Her eyes locked onto Dorian. She said nothing—but the disgust in her expression was louder than any words.
Like she was staring at something repulsive.
“Clarissa, I—” he started, desperate to explain.
But she didn’t even spare him a glance. Like he wasn’t worth it.
She bent down, gently scooped up the fallen eagle in a clean leaf, then walked past Dorian like he wasn’t there and stood beside Atticus.
“Clarissa, you’re back,” Atticus said, his tone soft.
She handed him the berries. “Here. I washed them already.”
Atticus took them with a smile, popping one raspberry after another into his mouth like they were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.
And he didn’t forget to glance back at Dorian—smug, amused, victorious.
Dorian’s fists clenched at his sides.
“Clarissa!” he called out, desperate. “Please. Just listen. All of this—it was Atticus! He set me up! He framed me, I—”
“Dorian.”
Clarissa turned to face him.
For a brief second, Dorian’s eyes lit up, hope flickering.
But her voice came cold and clear: “Since you like this place so much, we leave. Atticus.”