Chapter235 – Scars?
“Thank you, Miss Clarissa.”
At the praise, Oriana’s face lit up like sunshine. She scooped up a few more snack packs and bounced away.
Watching her retreat, Clarissa shook her head. Capable, yes. Smart, definitely. But far too playful.
Still, Oriana’s comment about June lingered. Clarissa’s gaze drifted across the set—and met a pair of bold, glittering eyes.
June.
Their eyes locked for a moment before June coolly looked away.
Clarissa’s stomach tightened. That look… it’s familiar.
Could it really be her? No. The storyline had shifted; they hadn’t crossed paths in years. June shouldn’t even be in S City anymore.
Besides, she remembered—June had been in love with William. If she were here, William would be here too. And if June had truly transformed into this stunning beauty, she would be chasing him, not skulking around.
Still, doubt gnawed at Clarissa. Maybe… she needed to find out for herself.
At lunch, when June slipped away, Clarissa slid into the seat beside Whitney.
“Settling in well?” she asked.
Whitney smiled warmly. “Very well. Everyone’s been kind, and the work suits me. Thank you for checking in, Miss Clarissa.”
“I’m glad. I worried it might be difficult for you.”
“How could it be? Honestly, I love it here. My sister always said you were a wonderful person—and now I see she was right.”
“Sister?” Clarissa blinked in surprise.
Whitney nodded. “Nova.”
“You and Nova…” Clarissa trailed off, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Whitney gave a small, careful smile. “Our situation’s… complicated. But yes—she is my sister.”
“Oh…” Clarissa murmured, her reply laced with meaning.
“By the way, your agent is gorgeous. Did she also work at Emperor’s Heaven? I don’t remember ever seeing her there.”
Whitney smiled. “Her? June only came this year. She’s been my agent since then.”
“I see, then—”
Before Clarissa could finish, a cold voice cut in. “What are you two talking about?”
Clarissa glanced up to find June standing there, a steaming bowl of soup in her hands, her gaze sharp and unreadable.
Clarissa quickly recovered, offering a faint smile. “Nothing important. I was just asking if Whitney’s settling in.”
“Thank you for your concern, Miss Clarissa,” June replied coolly.
Clarissa smiled again and started to rise to her feet.
But June suddenly leaned closer. Their shoulders brushed—and the scalding soup sloshed forward, spilling down Clarissa’s arm.
“Ah!” Clarissa cried out as the hot liquid splashed across her fair skin, turning it an angry red almost instantly. The heat seared through her blouse, burning both fabric and flesh.
“Oh, my apologies,” June said smoothly, lowering the empty bowl onto the table. Her lips curled in the faintest smirk. “I didn’t expect you to stand so suddenly.”
What a waste, she thought. It should have been on her perfect face.
Clarissa trembled, biting down hard against the pain. Her entire arm throbbed, the sting sharp enough to steal her breath. Before she could say a word, a voice thundered across the room.
“Clarissa!”
She turned, startled, just as Mark rushed to her side. His eyes locked on the red welt spreading across her arm, his expression dark as storm clouds. For a heartbeat, something murderous flickered there—raw and dangerous.
“Ma… Mark?” Clarissa’s voice wavered.
The commotion drew everyone’s attention. Staff dropped their meals and ran over.
“Oh my god, Ms. Clarissa! Your arm—it’s completely red!”
Mark exhaled sharply, snapping orders. “Someone call a doctor. Now. And bring clean water and ice packs!”
His voice, low and commanding, brooked no argument. People scattered at once.
Oriana pushed through the crowd, glaring at June. “Why did you throw soup at Miss Clarissa?”
June’s expression was calm, almost bored. “It wasn’t intentional. I’ve already apologized. How could I know she’d stand up so suddenly?”
“Bullshit!” Oriana shot back. “Miss Clarissa doesn’t just walk into people’s space. You bumped into her on purpose!”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Everyone knew Oriana was right. Clarissa always carried herself with a precise sense of space—never too close, never too far. June’s excuse rang hollow.
“Don’t slander me,” June said sharply. “She didn’t even see me coming. Ask her yourself.”
Oriana opened her mouth to argue, but Clarissa stopped her with a pained shake of the head. “Enough.”
There were no cameras here. And truthfully—she hadn’t seen it clearly herself.
“Miss Clarissa!” Oriana’s voice broke with frustration, but she fell silent at Clarissa’s look.
Just then, someone rushed up with supplies. “Ice packs!”
Hands moved quickly, rinsing away the soup with cool water before pressing the packs gently against her burned skin.
Oriana winced at the sight of Clarissa’s tender, fair arm, now angry and swollen. “Why isn’t the doctor here yet? Hurry them up!”
“They’re on their way.”
“Does anyone have a spare med kit? Hand it over!”
All around, people scrambled to help—faces drawn with worry. Even Upton, normally aloof, hovered nearby with tight concern.
From the edges of the crowd, June watched, her hands curling into fists. A dark fire burned in her chest, twisting tighter with every voice fussing over Clarissa.
Why did everyone love her so much?
What made her so special? Was it just her face? June was beautiful now too. More beautiful than ever. So why—why could she never compare?
Clarissa was nothing more than the daughter of a servant. She should have been beneath them all. And yet… wherever she went, she was the center of gravity, pulling all eyes, all hearts toward her.
June had said it wasn’t intentional, but no one believed her. They only rushed to shield Clarissa.
Jealousy bit deep, leaving her smile brittle and her eyes cold.
The doctor finally arrived, his expression grim as he examined Clarissa’s arm. “It’s serious. The burn is large. It needs to be treated in a sterile room immediately—otherwise there’s a risk of infection. And scars.”
“Scars? Absolutely not.”
“God, if this leaves a mark, Atticus will have our heads.”
“What are you waiting for? Get Miss Clarissa to the hospital—now!”
The crowd surged into motion, but before Clarissa could take a step, a strong hand pulled her back.
She tilted her head and found herself staring into Mark’s sharp, handsome features.
“Mark?”
“Let me handle it.”
Before she could react, he bent and swept her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing.
Her breath caught. “You—”
“The ambulance is outside. You’re too slow,” he said flatly, and without another word he strode out, carrying her against his chest.
Clarissa froze, shocked. His stride was long and powerful; wind whipped against her face as he all but ran. By the time they reached the vehicle, she was dizzy from both the speed and the fierce heat of his body pressed to hers.
Once inside, he set her gently down. The air between them shifted instantly—the overwhelming pressure of his presence gone, leaving her to exhale shakily.
Treatment in the ambulance was quick and efficient, and soon she was transferred to the nearest hospital. Only after she disappeared into the sterile room did the tense crowd finally breathe again.
An hour passed before she emerged, her arm tightly bandaged. Everyone rushed to her at once.
“Miss Clarissa! How did it go? What did the doctor say?”
“There won’t be a scar, right?”
“Don’t worry. Even if there’s risk, Atticus won’t allow it. He’s the best.”
Clarissa softened, touched by the flood of concern. “I’m fine. The doctor said it was good I iced it quickly. It looks bad, but it’s superficial. It won’t scar.”
A wave of relief washed over everyone.
“I’ll need to stay overnight for observation,” she added. “Don’t fuss over me. Go back to work.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Oriana said quickly, planting herself at Clarissa’s side.
Not far away, Mark’s hands clenched into fists, his shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly. The sight of her pale skin wrapped in bandages ignited something primal inside him—an ache, a fury, a desperate urge to be the one by her side.
But he said nothing. He only watched silently as Oriana slipped into the space he longed to claim.
Taking a long, steadying breath, he forced himself to turn and leave with the others.
Inside the ward, Oriana hovered anxiously as Clarissa settled in with an IV drip. Her eyes kept drifting to the bandaged arm. “Damn it… this is all June’s fault. She did it on purpose, I swear.”
Clarissa shook her head softly. “There’s no proof. And we still have to work with her. Better not to make things uglier than they already are.”
“I know, but it pisses me off. I told you she wasn’t a good person.” Oriana frowned at the bandages. “By the way… Miss Clarissa, you really didn’t see it happen?”
“No. My back was to her.” Clarissa’s voice was calm, even. That was why she hadn’t accused June directly.
“Such a shame. If only the surveillance wasn’t down, we’d have proof. We could’ve nailed her.”
Clarissa smiled faintly. “I’m fine now, aren’t I?”
Oriana sighed, shaking her head. Miss Clarissa was far too generous. After a moment, she lowered her voice, mischievous curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Miss Clarissa… don’t you think Mark’s been acting strange?”
Clarissa arched a brow, amused. “Strange? In your eyes, Oriana, is anyone normal?”
“Of course. You are. And…”
“Alright, enough,” Clarissa cut her off with a tiny laugh. “Tell me—what about Mark?”
“Well…” Oriana leaned closer. “You just got burned, and before I even had time to react, he was already rushing over to you. Like—instinct. Way too fast.”
Clarissa pressed her lips together, her smile fading into thought. Oriana wasn’t wrong. The girl’s instincts were sharp, honed from years of chasing scandals as a reporter.
But Clarissa’s expression remained neutral. “Don’t mention this to anyone else.”
“Got it,” Oriana said quickly.
Clarissa reached for her water, only to find the bottle nearly empty. Oriana jumped up, already calling for a nurse.
By the time the IV drip was finished, afternoon had melted into evening. Through the window, the sunset spilled across the horizon in a wash of crimson, as if the sky itself had been set ablaze.
Clarissa returned to the set, only to hear that Atticus still hadn’t come back.
Disappointment flickered across her face. Oriana, quick to notice, leaned in and said softly, “Don’t worry, Miss Clarissa. Atticus is so capable—he’ll be fine.”
Just then, Clarissa’s phone rang.
She pulled it out, and when she saw the name on the screen, her heart skipped. She lifted it quickly to her ear. “Atticus…”
“Clarissa…”
On the other end, Atticus was walking down a crowded street, his mouth curved into a faint smile. “The signal was bad before, but it’s back now. Did you miss me?”
Emotion lit Clarissa’s eyes. “Are you okay? Were you hurt? What about Phoenix? Are they all safe?”
“She’s fine. It’s just…” Atticus’s gaze slid to Phoenix, crouched at the riverside scrubbing stubborn traces of medicine from her skin. “I’ll tell you when I’m back.”
“Alright. I’ll wait.”