Chapter 118: Capable of buying common sense
[Two Hours Ago]
After dinner at the Pearl Mansion, Clara headed upstairs to the bedroom she would be staying in for the night.
Ironically... it was Dominic’s old room.
The familiar scent, the furniture, even the neat arrangement of everything reminded her of him.
"Are you sure you don’t want to go back?" Grace asked gently, drawing Clara’s attention away from the room.
Clara let out a slow breath before forcing a smile.
"I’m sure."
Grace studied her for a moment before patting her shoulder.
"Alright. Make yourself comfortable. And if you change your mind..." She smiled knowingly. "My son is only one phone call away."
Clara laughed awkwardly.
"I’ll survive one night without him."
"I hope he survives one night without you."
That earned a genuine laugh from Clara.
After Grace left, Clara closed the door behind her.
She looked around the room and sighed.
"It reminds me too much of him."
She quickly shook her head.
"No. Clara, remember why you’re here."
She had come to the Pearl Mansion because she was upset with Dominic.
She needed space.
If she stayed beside him, she’d end up forgiving him before he had properly suffered for his mistake.
"And that’s unacceptable."
Nodding to herself, she threw herself onto the bed.
"Don’t think about him. Just sleep."
She hugged a pillow tightly.
"Dominic is probably sleeping peacefully anyway."
***
Five minutes later...she was still staring at the ceiling.
Ten minutes later...she hugged the pillow even tighter.
Fifteen minutes later...she groaned dramatically.
"Why do I miss that idiot already?" She buried her face in the pillow.
"No! Stay strong, Clara. This is a protest."
Just then, something flashed through her mind.
Her eyes flew open and she sat upright.
"...Thomas." A mischievous grin slowly spread across her face.
"Oh... that’s perfect."
Within minutes, Clara had quietly slipped out of the Pearl Mansion.
She didn’t even bother changing out of her pajamas.
Sneaking through the quiet streets, she headed straight for the neighborhood where Thomas was temporarily staying.
As always, she carefully avoided every surveillance camera along the way.
***
A few minutes later... standing outside the house, Clara peeked through an open window.
A wicked smile curved across her lips.
"Front doors are so overrated."
With surprising agility, she placed both hands on the windowsill, pushed herself upward, and effortlessly climbed inside.
She landed silently on the floor.
"The mission officially begins."
Fortunately for Clara, Thomas wasn’t home. The front door was locked, but that didn’t bother her in the slightest.
"Honestly..." she muttered while looking at the window. "I’d have used the window even if he were home."
With practiced ease, she climbed inside. It wasn’t her first time sneaking through a window.
Back when she was younger, this had practically been her secret entrance and exit.
Although she had wanted to tell her mother she planned to work part-time to help with household expenses, she had never found the courage to do it.
So instead... she would lock her bedroom door, pretend she was studying, sneak out through the window, finish her shift, and quietly climb back in before anyone noticed.
She had become so good at it that even the neighborhood cats probably respected her skills.
"Practice really does make perfect," Clara whispered proudly, dusting off her pajamas.
After making sure the house was silent, she began searching.
Every room. Every cabinet. Every drawer. Every shelf.
She was convinced Thomas had to be hiding something.
The man had spent years manipulating everyone around him. Gen had gone to prison for a crime she never committed while the real culprit had continued living comfortably.
People like Thomas never stayed clean. There had to be evidence somewhere.
***
Twenty minutes later... Clara stood in the middle of the living room with both hands on her hips.
"Is there anything in this house besides dust?"
Every drawer was empty. Every cupboard looked abandoned. Even the walls seemed strangely bare.
She frowned.
Gen had once proudly displayed the trophies she had won during her school years.
Clara assumed seeing them here.
Now... not a single one remained.
Her expression darkened.
"That son of a bitch... He sold everything." Her gaze swept across the empty shelves.
"Not even one photograph of his wife."
Not a single memory. Not a single keepsake. Nothing.
It was as if the woman had never existed.
Clara scoffed bitterly.
"So that’s how much she meant to you."
Just as she was about to give up, the sound of a key turning in the front door echoed through the house.
Click.
Clara froze.
"Holy shit."
Without thinking, she dove behind the sofa just as the front door swung open.
Carefully peeking over the edge, she narrowed her eyes.
"There you are..."
Thomas stumbled inside, swaying from side to side.
The overwhelming smell of alcohol filled the room before he had even taken three steps.
Clara wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"If being useless had a fragrance..."
She didn’t even bother finishing the sentence. Watching him made her blood boil.
If she were given permission to beat him senseless... tonight would have been the perfect opportunity.
Thomas groaned loudly before collapsing onto the sofa.
"Ugh..."
For a second, Clara silently prayed.
Please pass out. Please. Please.
Instead...Thomas suddenly sat back up.
"No!"
Clara nearly cried.
He staggered toward the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and pulled out another unopened bottle of liquor.
Returning to the sofa, he twisted off the cap and took several long gulps.
"That bitch..." he slurred with a drunken laugh.
"Who does she think she is... acting like I can’t pay for myself?" He snorted. "I could buy her entire shop now."
Clara frowned.
Buy her shop? With what money?
The man barely looked capable of buying common sense.
Her instincts immediately told her something wasn’t right.
Where had he suddenly gotten money?
She remained hidden, waiting for him to either leave or finally lose consciousness.
Unfortunately... Thomas showed no signs of stopping.
"I need to do something and get out of here before he catches me," Clara thought anxiously.
Just as she began thinking of a distraction—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Someone pounded violently on the front door.
"Thomas! Open the damn door! And give us our money!"
Clara’s eyes widened.
Loan sharks? Of all the nights... of all the possible timings... they had to show up now.
She slowly lowered herself even further behind the sofa.
"There is absolutely no way I’m getting caught tonight."
Between an intoxicated Thomas... and a group of furious loan sharks...
She honestly wasn’t sure which was more dangerous.
Then she sighed to herself.
"...Why do these things only happen when I’m wearing pajamas?"