Warmth touched her heart. And just then, his na lit up her screen again—he was calling. Clarissa exhaled, tension loosening in her shoulders. She answered imdiately.
“Hello?”
“I figured you'd be landing soon. Did the trip go well?”
“It did,” she said softly. “How about you?”
“All good here.” There was a pause. Then, his voice dropped slightly, inviting, but still gentle. “Are you free tonight? I’d love to have dinner with you.”
Clarissa hesitated.
She knew what he ant—this wasn’t just dinner. If she said yes, she was ready to give him an answer.
But in the back of her mind, like a ghost she couldn’t shake, Atticus’ face flickered to life.
She swallowed, then said, “Okay. You choose the place.”
“How about Opal Crest Hotel?”
She paused.
The Opal Crest—a five-star hilltop hotel known for its romantic views and intimate atmosphere. The kind of place where people proposed, declared love, started sothing real.
Clarissa's lips pressed into a thin line, then she nodded to herself. “Sure. That’s fine.”
“I’ll see you at 8 tonight, then.”
“Okay.”
As the line went dead and the screen went black, Clarissa let out a long breath and closed her eyes. She could feel the weight of her tangled thoughts pressing down on her, but she pushed them aside.
She looked down at herself—simple business suit, hair pulled back tight. Definitely not the look for tonight.
She dialed her assistant. “Can you bring the new dress to my place? I’ll need it tonight.” Then she headed ho.
.....
Clarissa had just pulled into the parking lot when Atticus suddenly stepped in front of her car, blocking her way.
“Sister,” he said, his voice tight, his expression unreadable. “Why did you change the locks? You didn’t reply to any of my ssages. You blocked my number.”
The lock, of course, hadn’t stopped him. Nothing really could if he set his mind to it. But Atticus could feel his impulsiveness had pushed her away, and now, for the first ti, he was afraid.
Still—he didn’t regret it. If he hadn’t confessed, if he hadn’t acted… she would’ve just run away into another man’s arms.
No. He wouldn’t allow it. She was his.
Clarissa stepped out of her car, cool and collected. Her voice was detached. “From today on, you’re moving out. Don’t co to my place anymore. Even if you have nothing better to do—stay away.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She stepped past him.
Atticus’ eyes darkened. Before she could get far, he caught her hand. “Sister... you said we were family. You said that before.”
“Family?” Clarissa turned, a cold smile tugging at her lips. "Then what did you do to before? Did you ever think that we were a family at that ti?"
She yanked her hand free with force. “I gave everything to raise you, supported you through college....”
Atticus’ grip tightened again, his voice low and tense. “But I haven’t even repaid you yet. I owe you everything—”
“Repay?” she cut him off, her tone sharp. “You’ve repaid kindness with obsession. With betrayal.”
He stared at her, eyes intense and searching, like he was trying to see through her mask. “Do you really feel nothing for at all?”
“No.” Her answer was imdiate. Steely. “From the beginning to now, I’ve only ever seen you as a younger brother.”
The light in Atticus’ eyes flickered—then darkened. Sothing inside him cracked, sharp and angry.
“And what about William?” he snapped. “Are you sure you even like him? Or are you just getting older and desperate for a man with a stable career and a nice smile?”
“I can date whoever the hell I want. That’s my choice,” she said icily. “Right now, I want to be with him—not—”
“Don’t say it!” Atticus exploded, his voice rough and desperate.
Clarissa flinched. When she looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. In the next second, he yanked her into his arms.
“Clarissa, stop—don’t say that. Don’t push ... I swear, you’re going to drive insane.”
His arms tightened around her like a vice, crushing her body against his. She could hardly breathe. Pain shot through her chest and shoulders.
“Let go,” she gasped, sweat trickling down her temple.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her ear, his voice hoarse. “I was wrong that night. I lost control. I couldn’t stand seeing you with him... I was jealous. I was angry. But I never wanted to hurt you. Please... punish if you want. Just don’t leave .”
All of the cold arrogance was gone. For the first ti, he wasn’t the proud, unreachable boy she’d raised.
He was broken. Vulnerable. Clinging to her like a lifeline.
Clarissa stared at him, stunned. For a split second, she didn’t know what to feel. Atticus had always been dazzling, self-assured, untouchable—this wasn’t the Atticus she knew.
And sothing in her heart faltered.
But then the mories ca flooding back—the fear, the violation, the pain in her chest when he looked at her like she was sothing to devour.
Her heart iced over again.
Atticus felt her go still in his arms and mistook it for forgiveness. He loosened his grip slightly, just as Clarissa shoved him away with all her strength.
“Clarissa—”
“Don’t co near !” she cried, backing away fast. “Atticus, you need to calm down. You’re confusing emotional attachnt with desire. Maybe you’ve relied on for too long, and now you’re mistaking that for love. You’re an adult—go find soone your age to love, not .”
Attachnt? Mistaken feelings? Fuck! But he had to stay in control. He couldn’t explode again—not if he wanted any chance of getting her back.
He clenched his fists and stood still.
Clarissa gave him one last look, then turned and walked away.
.....
Clarissa had just stepped out of the steaming bath, her skin still flushed from the heat, when the doorbell rang.
Wrapped in a towel, she rushed to the door, cracking it open slightly—and her heart dropped.
Standing there was her assistant, flustered… and next to her, looming like a shadow, was Atticus.
The assistant’s face lit up with relief the mont she saw Clarissa. “Cl–Clarissa! Thank God you’re here…”
She looked like she was about to cry.
“The guy out here... I thought I was about to be murdered," she whispered urgently, slipping inside the door the mont Clarissa moved aside. He’s gorgeous, sure, but the vibe? The air felt like a horror movie scene.
Clarissa stepped out to block the entrance—and Atticus imdiately tried to follow.
“Sis, why are you ordering dresses now?” he said, taking a bold step forward.
Clarissa shoved the door shut right in his face, her reflexes sharp. The lock clicked.
The assistant exhaled deeply and handed it to her. “Here it is. You want help getting ready? I brought so brushes too—”
“No, I’ll do the makeup myself. Just zip up, then you can go.”
The girl nodded quickly. As she helped Clarissa into the form-fitting dress and tugged up the zipper, she couldn’t help but ask, “So... who was that guy? He looked like trouble.”
Clarissa’s tone was flat. “Just a distant relative. Here to collect debts.”
A bitter taste coated her tongue. She’d raised him, supported him through college, and now he had the audacity to co at her with those kinds of feelings.
“Oh… I see,” the assistant murmured. When she stepped back and got a full look at Clarissa in the dress, her eyes widened.
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