Chapter306 – I missed you
Atticus let out a low chuckle.
“A young man? Treated well?” His tone was light, but his eyes were cold. Very few people dared speak to him like this.
He glanced at the director, who was gesturing frantically, panic written all over his face.
You were the one who insisted your identity remain confidential, the director’s expression seemed to say. You said you were just an ordinary doctor—this isn’t my fault.
At some point, everyone else in the room quietly withdrew, leaving only the three of them.
A playful glint appeared in Atticus’s eyes.
Interesting.
“The director has indeed been very kind to me,” he said mildly. “So, what exactly does Mr. Nelson want?”
Nelson leaned back. “My daughter greatly admires your talents. I’d like to invite you to become the director of our Gryphonhall Family Hospital. What do you think?”
Atticus rested his chin on his hand, a faint smile curving his lips. His handsome face revealed nothing.
Beside him, the director broke out in a cold sweat.
This is bad, he thought. Mr. Atticus is angry.
Atticus smiled faintly, his tone deliberately measured.
“It’s very kind of Mr. Nelson to think so highly of me. But I’m still young and inexperienced. If I were suddenly made dean, I’m afraid people might start talking.”
Nelson’s smile widened, unperturbed.
“That’s hardly a problem. My daughter admires you greatly. If Mr. Atticus is willing, what does a title even matter?”
At last, Atticus understood why the dean had been trembling all day.
His eyes flicked sharply toward her.
The dean looked like she was on the verge of tears, silently pleading—I was forced into this.
Atticus turned back to Nelson, feigning polite curiosity.
“Your daughter? You mean…”
Before he could finish, the conference room door burst open.
“Dad!”
Natalie rushed in, her face bright with excitement. Compared to Yuriko Nomiya’s cautious restraint, Natalie was far more aggressive—far more impatient.
Nelson shot her a warning look and slapped her hand away before turning back to Atticus.
“This is my daughter, Natalie. You’ve met before.”
Natalie’s eyes lit up when she saw him. She instinctively took a step forward, but the moment she met his gaze, she lowered her head shyly.
“H-hello… We’ve met before. I really admire your talent, Mr. Atticus…”
“Oh?” Atticus said lightly.
But his eyes had already gone cold.
The game was over.
The faint smile vanished from his face as he turned back to Nelson, a mocking curve forming at the corner of his lips.
“So this is a deal, then? Unfortunately for you, Mr. Nelson—I already have a wife.”
Nelson frowned.
“Mr. Atticus, according to our records, you’re only twenty years old and unmarried. If you aren’t married, how can you claim to have a wife?”
The temperature in the room dropped instantly.
Atticus’s eyes darkened, murderous intent flashing through them.
His age—and his inability to legally marry—had always been a raw nerve.
With a deafening crash, he kicked the table in front of him. Papers, tea cups, and documents exploded across the floor.
Everyone froze.
The dean nearly collapsed into the corner.
“A doctor is supposed to have compassion,” Atticus sneered. “But you sound more like a pimp.”
Then his gaze shifted to Natalie.
“You like me?”
Startled, Natalie hesitated—then, mesmerized by his face, nodded quickly.
Atticus’s expression twisted with disgust.
“But I don’t like you. I feel sick just looking at you. I’ve shown no interest, and yet you keep throwing yourself at me. Tell me—what’s the difference between you and a prostitute?”
Natalie’s face drained of color. She staggered backward.
Atticus turned back to Nelson, his voice razor-sharp.
“Are the daughters of the Gryphonhall family incapable of marriage? Or is your daughter just that desperate—begging men to fuck her?”
He laughed coldly.
“You think I’d touch a horny bitch like her for a lousy director position? You really think that’s a good trade?”
“Atticus!” Nelson shot to his feet, his composure shattering. “How dare you speak to me like that! Where are your manners?!”
Natalie collapsed to the floor beside him, sobbing uncontrollably, humiliation crushing her completely.
“Senior?” Atticus scoffed, brushing imaginary dust from his shirt. Then he raised his voice. “Dean.”
The dean flinched violently and scrambled over. “I—I’m here!”
Atticus’s gaze cut into him like a blade.
“I didn’t know,” the dean thought in terror. I swear I didn’t know you had a wife—
“Now you do,” Atticus interrupted flatly.
“You’ve been obedient enough, so I’ll let this go. But if something like this happens again—”
The dean nodded frantically, sweat dripping down his spine.
Without sparing the Gryphonhall father and daughter another glance, Atticus turned and walked out.
The dean exhaled shakily, his legs nearly giving out. I survived…
But behind him, Nelson exploded.
“Dean! Is this how your hospital’s doctors behave? Call him back immediately and make him apologize, or I’ll withdraw my investment!”
The dean snapped.
“Withdraw your investment?” he barked. “You think I’m afraid of you?!”
Nelson stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re willing to turn against me for a doctor? The Gryphonhall family holds fifty percent of this hospital’s shares—how dare you!”
“How wouldn’t I dare?” the dean roared. “I’ll just earn a little less money! I’ve tolerated you long enough, Nelson! This is my hospital—get out! Don’t waste my time!”
He stormed off, leaving behind a humiliated Nelson and a sobbing Natalie.
Natalie tugged weakly at her father’s sleeve.
“Dad… what happened…?”
Nelson’s veins bulged as he trembled with rage. After a long silence, his eyes hardened, venom flashing through them.
“Atticus…”
He ground the name between his teeth.
“I’ll make you pay for your arrogance.”
Natalie’s expression changed instantly.
“Dad—please don’t hurt him…”
Nelson whirled on her.
“He humiliated you like that, and you’re still defending him? He’s not worthy of you. I’ll find you someone better.”
Tears streaming down her face, Natalie rushed forward and dropped to her knees.
“Dad! Please! I love him! I love Mr. Atticus! I won’t marry anyone else!”
Nelson sighed heavily, rubbing his temple.
“You’re impossible…”
He helped her up at last.
“I promised I wouldn’t kill him. But he needs to be taught a lesson.”
Natalie let out a breath of relief—then suddenly, her eyes lit up.
“Dad… I know who that woman is.”
........
Atticus returned to his office with the fire still raging inside his chest.
Nelson’s words echoed relentlessly in his mind.
Only twenty.
Unworthy of marrying Clarissa.
With a violent crash, he kicked the desk in front of him. The solid pearwood trembled, shuddering several times as bottles and cups were flung to the floor, shattering into jagged shards. Papers scattered everywhere, the room instantly reduced to chaos.
Why did someone always have to rip the veil away so mercilessly—reminding him that everything he had was only an illusion?
That the happiness in his arms was borrowed. Stolen. Fragile.
He drew several deep breaths, but the murderous intent clawing at his chest refused to fade. Finally, he picked up his phone and dialed Eleven.
“Come here,” he said coldly. “Now.”
Twenty minutes later, Eleven rushed in. The moment she opened the door and took in the wreckage, alarm flashed through her eyes, her expression tightening.
Atticus didn’t look up. His voice was eerily calm.
“Cut off the Gryphonhall family’s drug supply.”
Eleven froze for a beat. Ending cooperation with the Gryphonhalls at a time like this would bring no immediate advantage.
Still, she nodded. “This is… significant. It involves multiple supply chains. Even at the fastest pace, it’ll take about a month.”
She glanced at him carefully.
Her unquestioning obedience eased Atticus’s fury just a little. He exhaled slowly.
“Fine. Do what you can. But don’t stay up all night.” His tone sharpened. “If you ruin your health, you’ll ruin my surgeries.”
Eleven swallowed and nodded. She set a bag down in front of him.
“This is what you asked me to prepare. Please check it—make sure nothing’s missing.”
Atticus picked up the thick stack of documents. For a brief moment, his expression went blank.
Then, as he flipped through the pages, the murderous cold in his eyes softened almost instantly.
Eleven let out a quiet breath of relief. Bringing this had been the right move.
The document was titled: Property Transfer Agreement.
For the first time in his life, Atticus read every line with painstaking care, afraid of overlooking even a single word. What would normally take him ten minutes took more than an hour.
When he reached the final page, he looked up at Eleven with clear satisfaction.
“No omissions. You did well.”
She nodded, but outside his line of sight, a flicker of unease crossed her eyes.
The agreement had been drafted a month ago. It stated that upon Atticus’s death, all of his assets would transfer to Clarissa alone—and that the Alphabet Group would recognize only her authority.
Eleven composed herself.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”
“Go.”
Clarissa woke in the afternoon, had lunch, then went to the music room to practice.
She’d been playing for barely three hours when she heard the familiar sound of the fingerprint lock disengaging.
She had just started to rise when the door flew open.
“Atticus, you—”
Why was he home so early?
Before she could finish the sentence, he cupped her face and kissed her hard.
Clarissa’s eyes flew open.
The kiss was urgent, demanding, burning—so intense it stole her breath in an instant.
“Atti—wait—”
She was suddenly lifted and set down on the piano. A dull thud echoed through the room, followed by a series of muffled sounds.
Her lips were claimed again.
His voice brushed against her ear, low and hoarse.
“Clarissa… I missed you.”
Her cheeks burned. Her body softened completely. She clutched his neck as his breath mingled with hers, the cold surface of the piano pressing against her skin, the sound of keys shifting beneath trembling fingers.
Before long, her vision blurred. Strength drained from her waist, and she slumped against the piano, her fingers barely grazing the keys.
When his breathing finally steadied, Atticus lifted her carefully, settling her onto his lap and wrapping his coat around her shoulders.
Clarissa opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him.
“What’s wrong? You’re home early.”
He hesitated, then said quietly,
“There weren’t many patients today. I missed you.”
She sighed. Just as she was about to speak again, her gaze suddenly snapped to the piano.
Then she froze.
The damage was obvious. Two keys were completely off-pitch, their tone ruined from repeated pressure.
Clarissa stared, stunned—then smacked his chest hard.
“What are you standing there for? Go check it!”
If anyone ever found out how she’d wrecked her piano, she’d never live it down.
She watched Atticus pick up a rag, then looked like she might hit him again.
He simply set the rag aside and smiled at her—soft, innocent, infuriatingly sweet.
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Atticus!”