Chapter275 – Still love him?
A few days ago, the news had broken: Leader X refused to surrender. He detonated explosives and died by self-immolation.
From that moment, X ceased to exist—and the Group vanished into history.
Each family of the dead and injured received one million dollars in compensation. Phoenix herself received a sudden transfer of one billion. She distributed it all—every cent—to the families of those who had fallen, hoping it might bring them some measure of peace.
As for Atticus—he seemed to have disappeared into thin air.
But that was fine. Clarissa never mentioned him, and Phoenix had no intention of doing so either.
That night, Phoenix fed Clarissa her herbal medicine. After Clarissa drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, Phoenix quietly slipped out of the room.
Outside, the air was cool and heavy with the scent of damp earth. In the courtyard, Callum sat alone beneath a tree, a small table before him, a half-empty bottle of wine glinting faintly under the lantern light.
He heard footsteps and turned, raising a hand.
“Phoenix,” he said. “Come join me for a drink.”
Phoenix hesitated, then crossed the yard and sat opposite him. Callum poured her a glass. Without a word, she picked it up and downed it in one go.
“Mr. Callum,” she asked after a pause, “how’s Clarissa? And… is that really necessary?”
Callum sighed, his eyes distant. “Her condition is stable, for now. But she needs time. As for that matter—my mind’s made up. Letting her forget him is the best path forward.”
He poured himself another drink, the liquid catching the moonlight. “If we don’t erase those memories, she’ll never move on. Even if that man is gone, his shadow will bind her for the rest of her life.”
Phoenix’s hand clenched around her glass. “If you’ve decided, I won’t stop you,” she said quietly, and took another sip, her expression unreadable.
Later, after helping Callum back to his room, Phoenix returned to hers. Clarissa’s room was next door.
It was late, but Phoenix couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed Callum’s words, over and over. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she swung her legs off the bed and padded barefoot to Clarissa’s door.
She eased it open.
The sight made her pause.
Clarissa wasn’t asleep either. She sat by the window, bathed in faint moonlight, her face serene but her eyes deep, distant—so unlike the gentle smile she wore during the day.
Hearing the door creak, Clarissa turned. “Phoenix? It’s late. Why aren’t you asleep?”
Phoenix gave a wry smile. “Aren’t you the same?” She crossed the room and came to her side. “You need to rest. You can’t afford to stay up.”
Clarissa lowered her gaze. “Maybe I slept too much before,” she murmured. “Now I can’t sleep at all.”
Phoenix studied her face in silence, then finally asked, “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”
Clarissa’s body tensed ever so slightly.
“If he hadn’t left,” Phoenix pressed, “what would you have done? Do you… still love him?”
The question hung in the air.
Clarissa didn’t answer for a long time. The quiet stretched on, filled only by the faint hum of crickets outside. Finally, she said softly, “These past few days, I’ve thought a lot. I was too naive. Maybe he and I… were never meant for the same world. I don’t hate him—but I don’t know how to love him, either.”
Her voice trembled slightly. “His love was too heavy. Too consuming. It made me forget who I was.”
Phoenix’s chest tightened. Why does love always hurt her like this? she thought bitterly. Clarissa had endured too much already.
Without another word, Phoenix reached down, scooped her up, and carried her to the bed.
Clarissa blinked, startled. “Phoenix—?”
“Enough,” Phoenix said, her tone firm but gentle. “Stop thinking. Once you’ve recovered, you can do whatever the hell you want. But right now, your job is to eat and rest. That’s an order.”
Clarissa chuckled softly. “Yes, ma’am. I can’t disobey orders from my superior, can I? You’re getting promoted soon, right? Are you sure you should still be stuck here with me?”
Phoenix smiled faintly. “A promotion means nothing compared to you.”
She toed off her shoes, climbed onto the bed, and pulled Clarissa into her arms. “Now sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
Clarissa didn’t resist. She nestled against Phoenix’s shoulder, her voice low and tender. “Phoenix… about my mother…”
The name froze Phoenix mid-breath.
She hesitated before answering. “Clarissa, you should be prepared. The evidence from back then—it’s all gone. Everett tried to recover it, but the other side’s a top-tier hacker. Everything’s been wiped. There’s nothing left.”
Clarissa shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “There’s another lead. Maybe you could look in that direction.”
Phoenix turned to her sharply. “What do you mean?”
Clarissa leaned closer, whispering a few words into her ear.
Phoenix’s expression went from calm to utterly stunned. Her breath caught. “Are you serious?”
Clarissa nodded slowly. “Atticus told me. My mother didn’t want me dragged into that mess, so she asked him to keep it secret.”
Phoenix let out a long, heavy sigh. “It was for your own good, but… Aunt Clementine…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish.
She felt torn. Clementine’s choice—to switch the children—had been unforgivable. But if not for that decision, she and Clarissa might never have met.
“Clarissa, if you really are the daughter of the Whitmore family,” Phoenix said quietly, her voice low and steady, “then your mother’s death must be tied to them somehow.”
Clarissa’s gaze darkened. “I can’t guarantee it,” she murmured. “But right now, that’s the only lead we have.”
Phoenix exhaled, relief flickering through her eyes, followed by something else—a faint satisfaction. “I thought you’d be heartbroken,” she said softly. “But you look… strangely calm.”
Clarissa rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “After everything I’ve been through, some things just… don’t feel the same anymore.”
Phoenix’s expression softened. “I understand. But you should rest. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Alright.”
Clarissa didn’t argue. The weight of the conversation pressed down on her, and soon the drowsiness took over. Within minutes, she was asleep.
Phoenix watched her quietly, then let out a slow, weary sigh. She should have felt relieved—but instead, a dull unease crept into her heart.
Like Callum, she didn’t want Clarissa involved with that boy, Atticus. But Clarissa…
Phoenix reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Clarissa’s face. Her fingertips lingered on the young woman’s soft skin. Clarissa’s sleeping expression was so peaceful—it made Phoenix’s chest ache with hesitation.
......
A month and a half slipped by unnoticed.
Under Callum’s careful care, Clarissa’s health improved steadily. The hollows in her cheeks filled out, her complexion warmed, and her strength slowly returned.
Still, Phoenix worried. That afternoon, she joined Clarissa in the garden for some winter sun. Though it was early in the season, the chill had already set in, so Clarissa was bundled up in layers—a thick dress, gloves, and a white fox-fur cloak. Even so, she still looked too fragile, like a delicate figure carved from porcelain.
Phoenix poured her a cup of steaming ginseng tea and set it before her. “It’s been over a month, and you’ve barely put on any weight,” she teased gently.
Clarissa smiled faintly, lifting the cup. “Grandpa says the worst thing during recovery is impatience. It takes time. Eating too much at once isn’t good for me.” She sipped the tea and added with a soft laugh, “You don’t want me turning into a fat little dumpling, do you?”
Phoenix smiled. “You’d still be beautiful. A little chubby wouldn’t hurt.”
“Grandpa says I’m recovering well. Maybe in another two months, I’ll be back to normal.”
“That’s good,” Phoenix said quietly.
Clarissa lowered her gaze and continued sipping her tea. Beneath the table, Phoenix’s hand tightened slightly, her nails pressing into her palm.
.......
That night, after tucking Clarissa into bed, Phoenix went to find Callum.
He was in his study, surrounded by books and the faint scent of medicine. A pot simmered quietly on the stove, filling the room with herbal fragrance. Without looking up, Callum said, “Come in. Don’t just stand there.”
Phoenix stepped inside and sat down beside him.
“Phoenix,” he said, turning a page, “you came because you have something to say. So, say it.”
She hesitated, then lowered her gaze. “I haven’t heard from that kid lately.”
Callum’s hand stilled, his brow furrowing. “Why bring him up again?”
“Mr. Callum,” Phoenix said softly, “was it really right for us to make that decision without asking Clarissa? Was it fair to her?”
Her voice was calm, but there was an edge beneath it. “She also—”
Callum raised a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. For a long time, the only sound in the room was the soft bubbling of the medicine pot.
Then, with a weary sigh, he covered his face with his hand. “I’m an old man, Phoenix. How long can I protect her? How many times can I save her?”
He lowered his hand and looked at her, his eyes heavy with worry. “That boy may truly love her, I admit that. But who is he? Can you promise me she’ll be safe with him? Can you guarantee he’ll give up everything—his ambition, his power—for Clarissa? Can you honestly say he’d settle down and live a quiet life?”
Phoenix had no answer.
Callum went on quietly, “Call me selfish. Call me controlling. I just want her to live a peaceful, happy life. That’s all I want. I don’t care about anything else.”
He didn’t want Clarissa to gamble again—not when the price of losing would be total devastation.
Phoenix finally nodded. “Clarissa is your granddaughter. Since you’ve decided, I’ll respect your choice.”
She stood and left.
.......
Callum went on quietly, “Call me selfish. Call me controlling. I just want her to live a peaceful, happy life. That’s all I want. I don’t care about anything else.”
He didn’t want Clarissa to gamble again—not when the price of losing would be total devastation.
Phoenix finally nodded. “Clarissa is your granddaughter. Since you’ve decided, I’ll respect your choice.”
She stood and left.
Callum sat alone by the stove, the pot still steaming in front of him. The medicine’s aroma filled the silence as he stared into the faint rising mist, his thoughts heavy and unspoken. He sat there until dawn, motionless.
......
The next morning, Clarissa lay in bed as Callum prepared something beside her. His movements were unusually quiet. Clarissa frowned slightly. Something felt different about him today.
“Grandpa,” she asked softly, “aren’t we doing acupuncture today?”
Callum smiled gently. “Before acupuncture, we’ll do a bit of therapy first. Just close your eyes.”
Clarissa hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Alright.”
She closed her eyes. A faint, sweet fragrance drifted through the air—soothing, almost intoxicating.
Her breathing slowed. Her mind began to blur.
And before she realized it, she was gone—slipping soundlessly into sleep.