Seeing her happy, Clarissa finally felt relieved. When Clentine had collapsed, it had terrified her.
In her mory, the original story hadn’t described Clentine’s fate in detail—she had simply faded away, forgotten by both the narrative and its characters. After the vicious supporting antagonist died, both Clentine and Clarissa had seemingly disappeared from the book.
But life wasn’t like a novel. Just because a character wasn’t in the spotlight didn’t an they ceased to exist. They had their own stories, their own struggles.
And right now, Clentine was standing in front of her—alive and real.
In her past life, Clarissa had no family. She had never known the warmth of a mother’s love, had never been given the chance to show filial devotion. But in this life, she had Clentine. And she was going to cherish her, protect her, and make sure she lived a good life.
.......
The next day, Clarissa brought Clentine ho.
She was careful not to let her do too much, deciding to hire a housekeeper to take care of the cooking and housework so that Clentine could focus on resting.
But Clentine imdiately refused.
"I don’t need a maid," she said firmly. "I’m still young enough to cook and keep the house in order. Compared to when I was a servant in the Lancaster family, this is nothing. There’s no need to waste money on this."
"Mom." Clarissa sighed, walking over to her. "I really don’t lack money right now. Please don’t worry about saving it for . Your health is more important."
"I know…" Clentine murmured, gripping Clarissa’s hand tightly. Her eyes shimred with tears.
Clarissa froze. Why is she crying? "Mom, what’s wrong?"
Clentine bit her lip, unable to hold back her sobs. "I just don’t want to be useless," she choked out. "I feel like I’m always holding you back. I can’t even do sothing as simple as cooking a al for you…"
Clarissa deserved a better life, a brighter future. But because of Clentine’s weakness, her fear, she had ruined everything. She had dragged her daughter down, making her a target of ridicule and pity.
If only she had been stronger back then…
But no—there was no "back then." The past didn’t matter. Clarissa was here now, and she was all that mattered.
Seeing Clentine crying so miserably, Clarissa felt helpless. She reached out and patted her mother’s shoulder gently. "Mom, don’t be like this. Fine—I won’t hire anyone, okay?"
Clentine was so sensitive. She probably thought that hiring a housekeeper ant Clarissa was pushing her away, trying to distance herself.
Clarissa knew that wasn’t the case. But at the sa ti, she also couldn’t ignore the doctor’s instructions.
For now, all she could do was keep rubbing Clentine’s back, offering silent comfort.
Days passed quickly, and before she knew it, the first day of school had arrived.
Clarissa had grown familiar with the neighbors in her new neighborhood. She adjusted the strap of her bag, glancing down at her school uniform skirt. A flicker of nostalgia crossed her face.
Seventeen was a beautiful age. No matter what she wore, she looked good in it. She had heard that the original Clarissa was considered one of the school’s most beautiful girls.
As she stepped out of the building, she ran into Atticus again.
They had seen each other several tis over the past few days, but their interactions had been… odd. Whenever they locked eyes, Atticus would imdiately look away and disappear like he was running from sothing. Clarissa wasn’t even sure if that counted as an interaction.
But what caught her attention today wasn’t his usual awkwardness—it was the fresh wound on his knee. The injury was large, raw, and impossible to ignore.
Clarissa frowned. Why did he always seem to be hurt?
Before Clarissa could say a word, Atticus bolted, disappearing down the street like he had sowhere urgent to be.
She shook her head, exhaling in frustration. Whatever. I need to get to school.
Clarissa had never been the type to be late, but she also wasn’t the type to arrive too early. By the ti she reached the school gates, the campus was already bustling with students.
Almost imdiately, she could feel the weight of countless stares pressing in on her.
"Hey, look! It’s Clarissa..."
"Damn, did she get even prettier? I swear she looks better than before."
"Pretty won’t save her. Haven’t you heard?"
"Yeah, she’s a fraud! The real rich daughter is Lyra."
"This is better than a drama series."
"Two girls fighting over a rich family’s fortune? This is gonna be good."
"Serves her right! She’s always been such a snob, throwing her weight around just because she had money. Now look at her!"
"The Lancaster family won’t keep a fake daughter around. Her good days are over!"
Clarissa ignored the whispers, her expression calm as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
But then, just as the murmurs reached a peak, sothing—or rather, soone—shifted the crowd’s attention.
"Look! It’s William!"
"Oh my god, the student council president is here!"
"So hot!" Clarissa turned her head.
A tall young man in a crisp white shirt and fitted jeans walked toward her. He had strikingly sharp features, a lean but strong build, and an air of quiet elegance. His presence was like fresh snow—cold, distant, and untouchable.
Clarissa recognized him imdiately. Ah, yes. The tragic second male lead.
In Mary Sue novels, the heroine wasn’t just surrounded by one love interest—there were always multiple n pining after her. And William? He was one of them.
Born into an ordinary family, he had been childhood friends with Lyra. Yet, despite his humble background, his looks rivaled those of the novel’s male lead, Dorian. With top-tier grades and an air of untouchable coolness, he was the guy every girl in school wanted but none could reach.
Clarissa recalled the mont he and Lyra first t—she had been skipping class, attempting to climb over the school wall when she ran into him. From then on, he beca her safe harbor, the person she ran to every ti she had a fight with the male lead.
And every ti, without fail, she would cry on his shoulder, let him comfort her, and then turn around and say, Sorry, but I only love Dorian.
William was the first victim in the heroine’s long line of discarded second leads.
But right now, he wasn’t Clarissa’s concern.
Having already witnessed Atticus’s otherworldly beauty, she was mostly immune to William’s good looks. She spared him only a fleeting glance before turning away, squeezing past the growing crowd to get to her classroom.
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