Chapter286 – The red dress
In her panic, she grabbed Clarissa’s arm so tightly it instantly turned red.
“Ahem.”
Atticus coughed softly beside them.
Wesley sensed the sharp, threatening gaze on her at once and instinctively let go.
Clarissa quickly reassured her, “She’s out of danger tonight. Don’t worry.”
“That’s wonderful… thank you, Miss Clarissa, thank you…” Wesley broke down, tears streaming as her whole body trembled.
Later, they ate boxed meals in the ICU corridor. Inside the sterile room beyond the glass, Whitney lay unconscious, the monitor beside her emitting steady beeps.
While eating, Wesley finally spoke, her voice hoarse.
“Whitney and I grew up together. She’s my mother’s adopted daughter.”
Clarissa listened quietly.
“Later, my father came to take me home, but I didn’t want to go. So I lied. I said Whitney was my father’s biological daughter and sent her to the Cindermarch family. I just wanted her to have the best life possible.”
Clarissa frowned. “Then what does that have to do with what happened tonight?”
“My father spoiled her and sheltered her from everything ugly in the world. That’s why Whitney was so naive. That bastard took advantage of her. He threatened her, forced her… even—” Wesley’s voice collapsed into sobs. “I swear I’ll make that piece of shit Xerxes pay!”
“Xerxes?” Clarissa asked. “Her boyfriend?”
“That trash didn’t deserve her at all!” Wesley shouted. “Lately his attitude kept getting worse. Every time he visited, he asked for money. He forced her into sex… and he hit her!”
Clarissa stiffened. She recalled her agent mentioning Whitney’s injuries earlier—she had never imagined this was the reason.
“Hitting a woman… what a scumbag,” the agent spat angrily.
Clarissa asked quietly, “Was the suicide attempt because of him?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Wesley said through tears. “But it must have been that bastard who drove her to it.”
“Let’s wait until she wakes up,” Clarissa said calmly.
Wesley hesitated, then nodded. “Alright… Miss Clarissa, I trust only you.”
Clarissa studied her expression. “Is there something else you want to say?”
Wesley glanced at the agent and then at Atticus standing nearby. “Miss Clarissa… could we speak in private?”
“I’m Whitney’s agent—why can’t I hear it?” the agent protested.
Clarissa shot her a quiet but firm look. The agent immediately fell silent.
“There’s a mother-and-baby room downstairs,” Clarissa said. “It should be empty at this hour.”
Wesley nodded, and the two women left together, leaving only the agent and Atticus in the corridor.
Atticus sat upright in the chair at the center of the hall, his presence overwhelming. The agent didn’t dare get too close.
“Is she very busy these days?” he asked mildly.
“Not really,” the agent replied. “Miss Clarissa mostly reviews documents. But Whitney is very important to the company—that’s why I called her tonight.”
Atticus idly rubbed his knuckles. “She’s responsible and kind. Everyone at the company must like her.”
“Of course. She’s the best boss we’ve ever had. Easygoing, fair, generous with benefits…”
Atticus smiled faintly. “With someone like her, there must be many suitors.”
“Suitors?”
“Is that surprising?”
“No, no…” The agent waved a hand. “Just—”
“There are none within the company?” Atticus pressed.
“The company…” She paused, then suddenly seemed to remember something. “Actually—yes. Mark! Everyone knows he likes Ms. Clarissa. We all think their relationship is… special.”
At that moment, Atticus’s hand clenched tightly at his side. His eyes turned razor-sharp and cold, startling the agent.
But in the next instant, his gentle smile returned.
“Do you think they’ll end up together?”
“Hard to say. They don’t act like a couple at work. Do you… like Miss Clarissa?”
Atticus didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
The agent hesitated, then said, “Miss Clarissa might have some feelings for Mark. But you could still try.”
“Try…”
The word turned into a faint, bitter sneer at the corner of Atticus’s lips. What did he even have to offer? If Clarissa still remembered everything from before, he probably wouldn’t even have the right to stand this close to her.
He should be grateful she had forgotten.
Before the agent could continue, footsteps approached again. Clarissa and Wesley returned to the corridor.
Whitney finally woke up at around nine that night. After the doctor declared her completely out of danger, everyone released the breath they had been holding all evening.
Exhausted, Clarissa walked toward the exit. A sudden chill crept over her shoulders—
Then a warm coat, carrying a faint medicinal scent, was draped over her.
The cold instantly vanished.
......
He draped his coat over Clarissa’s shoulders. “I’ll take you home.”
“Okay.” She looked utterly exhausted in the car, rubbing her temples without even realizing it.
Atticus knew this was usually the hour when she would be washing up and going to bed, so he drove straight to her apartment without delay.
As soon as the car stopped, Clarissa unbuckled her seatbelt. Atticus got out and walked around to open the door for her.
“Thank you, Dr. Atticus. It’s been a long day for you too—you should rest when you get back,” she said softly. She reached to take off the coat to return it, but his hand stopped her.
“Don’t take it off. Keep it. You can give it back to me next time.”
Before she could protest, he turned and got back into the driver’s seat. He was afraid that if he lingered even a second longer, he wouldn’t be able to leave.
Clarissa stood there watching as the car disappeared into the darkness. She pulled the coat tighter around herself. The warmth—and his faint, clean scent—slowly seeped into her chest.
Whitney’s situation… what Wesley had told her… and that bastard Xerxes—so many things weighed on her mind.
She almost entered her password wrong. A sudden violent crash from inside snapped her back to reality.
The moment the door opened, a black blur lunged at her and knocked her flat onto the floor.
Clarissa didn’t resist. She let the massive creature whimper and rub against her wildly.
Abyss sniffed her all over in frantic circles, growling low in its throat—until its eyes suddenly locked onto the men’s coat on her shoulders.
The next second, it lunged for it.
“Abyss—no!” Clarissa grabbed at it. “This is Dr. Atticus’s coat! Don’t you dare ruin it!”
Abyss clamped down and bolted. Clarissa chased after it in panic.
One human, one leopard, sprinted back and forth through the room in pure chaos. Furniture bumped. Objects crashed.
“Give it back right now! Don’t you want canned food for the next week?!”
Abyss skidded to an abrupt stop mid-leap—
Crash!
The leftover coffee pot from the morning slammed to the floor. The glass shattered. Dark liquid splashed all over Clarissa’s sleeve.
“Abyss!”
Startled, the beast immediately dropped the coat and fled, tail tucked.
Clarissa hurriedly picked up the coat and rushed into the bathroom. She scrubbed and dabbed for a long time, but the coffee had already soaked deep into the navy fabric, leaving ugly black stains.
“…This is bad,” she murmured. “How am I supposed to give this back to him like this?”
She hung it up carefully, planning to take it to a professional cleaner the next day.
Out in the living room, Abyss had already retreated to its rug, lying there and wagging its tail cautiously.
Clarissa stormed out. “Abyss, you’ve seriously crossed the line this time! That wasn’t my coat—you destroyed someone else’s property. No canned food for a whole month!”
“Aw?” Abyss froze. Its eyes widened. The tail that had been wagging stopped instantly.
It inched forward pitifully. Clarissa didn’t soften.
She grabbed her coat, turned, and shut herself into her bedroom, locking the door.
........
After a long, hot bath, all the exhaustion finally drained from Clarissa’s body.
She lay on the bed, her gaze drifting to the coat hanging quietly on the rack.
Sleep refused to come.
Her eyes shifted to the shopping bag beside the bed.
After a moment’s hesitation, she got up, took out the red dress, and slipped it on.
Standing before the mirror, her skin looked luminous, almost unreal. The red fabric traced every curve of her body, bold and intoxicating. Her reflection seemed like a stranger—beautiful, dangerous, mesmerizing.
The scene in the fitting room flashed through her mind.
Her lips pressed together. Her heartbeat quickened.
He probably just wanted to fix her hair…
She lifted her hand and brushed her long hair over one shoulder, staring at her reflection in silence.
She had always avoided red. Too eye-catching. Too bold.
And somewhere deep in her mind, scenes from the “book” played again and again—her ultimate fate intertwined with the Lancaster family.
She didn’t want that future.
This world had never been hers to control. More and more, she felt as if some invisible force was pushing her forward whether she resisted or not.
So she chose to be quieter. More restrained. Invisible, if possible.
Yet loneliness clung to her like a shadow.
It felt as if… something essential was missing.
What she wanted—what she truly longed for—wasn’t this life at all.
With a soft sigh, Clarissa shook her head as if to scatter the thoughts. She changed back into her usual clothes, lit the incense, turned off the lights, and lay down to sleep.
.....
Elsewhere, darkness filled the room.
The moment Atticus returned home, he went straight to the sofa without turning on the lights. Darkness was familiar to him—comforting.
Light would only expose the fire raging in his eyes.
The scene in the fitting room replayed endlessly in his mind.
He exhaled slowly, then inhaled just as deeply, trying to calm the violent reaction in his body.
It was useless.
She had been breathtaking in that dress.
The thin ribbon tied across her bare back… the curve of her waist… her smooth, pale skin just a breath away.
That single glimpse tormented him, igniting every buried, filthy desire inside him.
He wanted to untie it.
Tear it open.
Press her against the mirror and claim every inch of her reflection as his.
If that phone hadn’t rung—
His jaw tightened.
Just the thought of it made his blood burn.
Atticus forced several deep breaths, relying on willpower the way he always had. But this time, the more he suppressed it, the worse it became, until his whole body felt like it was on fire.
“Fuck…”
He cursed under his breath.
Left with no other choice, he stood abruptly and headed for the bathroom.
In a private room of an upscale restaurant, Mark sat alone at the table. The dishes before him were exquisitely plated, still steaming faintly—but he had no appetite at all.
She still hadn’t shown up.
“Sir, would you like us to reheat your dishes?” the waiter asked politely.
Mark frowned, preparing to refuse, when a familiar, lightly mocking voice drifted in from the side.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise? Mark? What a coincidence—eating here too?”
Oriana strolled over and plopped into the seat across from him as if she owned the place.
Mark’s frown deepened. “What are you doing here? Where’s Clarissa?”