Chapter307 -I’m here
Clarissa was still sulking through dinner, curled up stubbornly on the sofa.
“Clarissa,” Atticus said softly, trying to coax her, “don’t be mad anymore, okay? I made all your favorite dishes…”
He reached for her, but she dodged away. Atticus paused—then suddenly stepped forward, sweeping her into his arms and pinning her lightly against the cushions.
Clarissa struggled but couldn’t break free. She glared up at him.
“Will you dare do it again next time?”
The moment he heard her tone, Atticus knew her anger had already begun to melt. He leaned closer, rubbing against her shamelessly.
“I swear I won’t do anything in the music room again without your permission. I promise.” His voice softened. “Alright, Clarissa? Don’t be angry. The food’s getting cold—I spent forever making it…”
His teasing made her itch with laughter. At last, Clarissa cracked a smile and pushed him away gently.
“How am I supposed to eat with you clinging to me like this?”
Atticus’s eyes lit up. He scooped her up effortlessly.
“Easy. I’ll carry you.”
.....
After dinner, Clarissa curled up on the sofa again, sipping warm corn water and watching television to help with digestion. That was when Atticus placed a thin booklet in front of her.
“What’s this?”
He opened it. The cover was a photo of her onstage, caught mid-performance.
“Some colleagues at the hospital want your autograph.”
Clarissa blinked. “Did we give ourselves away?”
“Yes.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. “You came to my office that day. To shut them up, I agreed.”
“It didn’t have to be such a big deal,” she said lightly. “Even if people knew, it wouldn’t matter.”
Atticus smiled faintly.
“Well, since Mr. Atticus asked, how could you refuse?”
She rolled her eyes but reached for the pen.
“Where should I sign?”
He leaned closer and pointed to a specific spot.
“Here. They said it’s clearer there—the layout’s better.”
“Your colleagues are oddly meticulous.”
She signed where he indicated, one page after another. Only when she finished did Atticus close the booklet and take it away.
He returned to his study and calmly tore the poster free from inside. The paper was specially treated; Clarissa’s signature had transferred cleanly onto the document beneath it.
Carefully, he slipped the signed page into a thick folder, then buried it among medical reports. Only after checking everything twice did he leave the study.
By then, Clarissa had already gone to shower.
......
When she came out, Atticus was sitting on the bed, freshly showered, the tips of his hair still damp. He was reading.
“Why aren’t you drying your hair?” she asked.
“It’ll dry on its own.”
Clarissa sighed helplessly and went to grab the hairdryer.
“It’s cold. You’ll catch a chill. Come here.”
He put the book aside and obediently sat in front of her.
His hair was thick and healthy, a little firmer than hers but smooth beneath her fingers. Clarissa adjusted the temperature and dried it slowly, patiently.
Atticus sat still, letting her do as she pleased. From his angle, he could see her pale, delicate chin; her soft hair brushed against her collarbone as she moved.
His breath hitched.
Without thinking, he reached out, wrapping an arm around her waist, his other hand closing over hers.
“It’s dry already, isn’t it…?”
Feeling his heated gaze, Clarissa’s heart skipped. She turned off the dryer instinctively.
“Mmm… almost.”
She set it aside and slipped her arms around his neck. Atticus pulled her down with him, and they lay facing each other on the bed.
Clarissa watched him lean closer. Just as she closed her eyes, he only kissed her forehead, then laced his fingers with hers and whispered,
“Sleep.”
She blinked in surprise. He had already pulled the blanket over them and closed his eyes.
Slowly, Clarissa relaxed. Her breathing evened out, filling the quiet room.
Moments later, Atticus opened his eyes.
Carefully, he leaned closer, gazing at her sleeping face.
Clarissa… I’m so useless.
I couldn’t even marry you in my own country.
He was grateful she didn’t remember their past.
I want to keep living like this with you… but I know it can’t last.
I’m sorry. I don’t even know how to say it. Maybe I never will.
My heart is already rotten—but please, don’t despise it.
When the time comes, I’ll give you everything. Even my life.
His throat burned. His breathing grew uneven as silent tears slid down his face. He didn’t dare make a sound, didn’t dare speak the words tangled in his chest. He only mouthed her name, hoarse and broken.
“Clari… Clari…”
Suddenly, warm hands touched his face.
Clarissa’s sleepy voice whispered, “Atticus… why are you crying?”
“I just…” His voice rasped. “I had a nightmare. Did I wake you?”
“No.” She wiped his tears gently. “I had a bad dream too.”
She looked at him with quiet concern. “Was it really awful?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “Terrible.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he pulled her into his arms.
“Let me hold you. Just for a while.”
Clarissa nestled against him and hugged him back.
“You can hold me as long as you want…”
“It’s late,” she murmured softly. “Go to sleep. I’m here.”
Her voice was like warm water, washing the bitterness and fear from his chest.
Atticus closed his eyes. Wrapped in her warmth and scent, he finally drifted into sleep.
Clarissa couldn’t fall asleep. At first, it had only been a vague unease—but now she was certain. Something had gone wrong at the hospital.
The next morning, after seeing Atticus off to work, Clarissa stood by the window for a long moment before picking up her phone.
“Oriana,” she said quietly, “get me something.”
She paused, then added, “If you have to… use some methods.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Okay,” Oriana replied cheerfully. “Got it.”
.....
About an hour later, Clarissa received a file.
Inside was surveillance footage from the hospital.
As soon as Atticus appeared on screen—his expression icy, his temper snapping the instant marriage was mentioned—a sharp pain pierced Clarissa’s chest. She let out a soft sigh, hesitation and turmoil flickering in her eyes.
Ronan’s words echoed in her mind.
It felt as if someone had reached into her chest and torn her heart apart.
Her fingers trembled. Tears slid down her cheeks.
She regretted it now—everything she had said, every moment she had hesitated. Regretted loosening her grip on his hand and pushing him, bit by bit, back into the abyss.
Clarissa… how could you be so stupid?
She exhaled shakily.
Then another camera angle caught her attention.
A corridor feed.
Clarissa leaned closer to the screen, her expression sharpening when she recognized the Gryphonhall father and daughter.
Her phone rang.
She answered absentmindedly. “Hello?”
“Miss Clarissa! Did you see it?” Oriana’s voice was practically vibrating with excitement. “It was insane—Atticus was ridiculously handsome!”
Clarissa pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re at it again?”
Then, after a beat, “Still… good job.”
Oriana laughed. “Of course. There’s nothing I can’t dig up.”
“You even pulled hospital surveillance,” Clarissa said. “I’m curious how you managed that.”
A flicker of guilt crossed Oriana’s face—then vanished behind a grin.
“You’ll find out later! I can’t tell you now.”
Clarissa stared at the darkened screen, a vein twitching faintly at her temple. This girl is getting bolder by the day.
......
Meanwhile, at the hospital…
Oriana was being mobbed.
“Ahhh—Miss Oriana! Please, just one!”
“Me too! Me too!”
Standing on a bench, Oriana raised her phone.
“Everyone, calm down!”
Displayed clearly on the screen was a photo of Clarissa and Atticus. Early morning light. A bamboo veranda. Atticus gently combing Clarissa’s long hair while she leaned against him, soft and trusting.
The crowd below nearly exploded.
Oriana swallowed. This is bad.
If Atticus found out she was here, she’d be dead.
She slipped away while the staff were distracted—but the moment she reached the exit, she slammed straight into someone.
“Who the hell doesn’t watch where they’re—”
She looked up.
Cold eyes. Sharp features.
Atticus.
Her soul nearly left her body.
The surrounding crowd instantly fell silent and scattered like startled birds.
“A-Atticus…” Oriana laughed stiffly. “What a coincidence! You’re here for a checkup too?”
I just walked straight into the lion’s den.
Atticus looked her over calmly.
“I work here,” he said. “And you—what are you doing at a hospital? Not feeling well?”
She nodded violently. “Yes! Probably the weather. Sudden temperature drop. I feel awful. Since you’re busy, I won’t disturb you—I’ll go now.”
She turned to flee.
His hand closed on her collar.
“Not feeling well?” Atticus smiled faintly. “Perfect. Let me take a look.”
“N-no, really, I’m fine—”
“It’s alright,” he said smoothly. “I’d like to. We’ve known each other a long time.” His gaze sharpened. “Come with me. I have something to ask you.”
Oriana nearly cried.
Inside the consultation room, she sat stiffly across from him.
“Your phone,” Atticus said, holding out his hand.
She handed it over automatically—then immediately wanted to slap herself.
Damn it. Stupid reflexes.
He scrolled.
When he saw the photos of him and Clarissa, his brow furrowed deeply.
“Has Clarissa seen these?”
“N-no,” Oriana answered quickly. “Mr. Phoenix warned us. I wouldn’t dare show Miss Clarissa.”
Atticus exhaled quietly, relief flickering across his face before vanishing.
“Then what’s wrong with you?”
Oriana was sweating bullets.
She wasn’t sick. And lying to Atticus was basically suicide.
With Clarissa’s memory restored, there was no way this could stay hidden forever. If she told the truth, Clarissa would skin her alive. If she lied, Atticus would.
“N-nothing serious,” she stammered. “I’ve just been… tired lately. Sleepy. Weak.”
Atticus studied her for a moment, then said, “Your hand.”
She obeyed.
He placed two fingers on her wrist—three seconds, no more—then withdrew and picked up his pen.
He wrote calmly:
Typical kidney yin deficiency from chronic sleep deprivation. Liver function mediocre. Heart average. Stop staying up all night watching dramas. Learn from Clarissa.
Oriana stared at the paper.
Her face darkened.
“…Kidney deficiency?” she croaked.
She actually had kidney deficiency.
Her life was over.
.....
On the other side, Clarissa had just finished hauling a ridiculous amount of groceries and household supplies upstairs—two full trips.
As she set the last bag down, a strange sensation crawled up her spine.
Someone was behind her.
She turned sharply. The hallway was empty.
Clarissa’s eyes narrowed slightly. Something flickered through her mind, but she showed no reaction. Instead, she calmly turned back, unlocked the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind her.
After checking the time, she realized that if she left now, Atticus would be getting off work soon.
I’ll go pick him up, she decided.
Standing before her closet, she hesitated.
Her gaze swept over rows of clothes—clean, elegant, conservative. Then she remembered what Atticus had said about “surprises.”
A faint blush crept up her cheeks.
Next time… I’ll buy something different, she thought. Really surprise him.
She grabbed her coat.
Just as she was about to leave, something else came to mind. Clarissa turned back, opened her jewelry box, and took out the blood jade.
She fastened it around her wrist.
Then she retrieved a small brocade pouch and poured three crimson pills into her palm. After a moment’s hesitation, she swallowed one and tucked the rest away before heading out.