The mories hit him like a fist to the gut. And only now did he realize… she had given him everything.
God had already taken so much from him. And yet, He had still taken the only family Atticus had left.
His nails dug into his palms. Why? Why did the worst people get to live? Why could the scum of the world thrive while the ones who deserved happiness were left to suffer? If only—if only they were all dead.
The thought was like a wildfire in his mind. It spread fast. It grew, uncontained, devouring all rationality. His breath hitched. His body trembled. His hands tightened into fists.
But then… He exhaled. Slowly, his head dipped forward, resting against the photo fra. Tears burned at the edges of his vision.
"Mom…" His voice cracked. "I almost made a huge mistake. But soone stopped before I could."
"I'm leaving now. But I’ll co back. I promise."
He wiped at his face quickly, blinking away the last of the tears.
Then, with one final breath, Atticus stood up. His gaze was no longer fogged by grief or rage. It was steady. Sharp. Determined.
From now on, he wouldn’t cry again.
.......
The next day, Clarissa stood by and watched as Atticus walked away, suitcase in hand. A strange feeling settled in her chest—sothing between relief and lancholy.
After this, their paths would probably never cross again. I hope things work out for him.
If living with his relatives ant he could escape his original fate, then maybe—just maybe—she had done sothing good.
Still, one thing continued to nag at her.Atticus’s backstory in the novel… it wasn’t like this. He wasn’t supposed to be just so ordinary kid.
In the book, his true lineage was far more powerful—so powerful, in fact, that his family could go toe-to-toe with the Harringtons. But for the life of her, Clarissa couldn’t rember the na of that family.
Not that it really mattered. The original author had barely described it anyway, probably because she couldn’t be bothered to make sothing up.
And at this point, she had already thrown the entire plot off course. So what if there was a little inconsistency? Who cares.
Clarissa shook the thought from her mind and headed upstairs.
Life quickly settled back into its usual rhythm. She went to school, ca ho, finished her assignnts, and spent her free ti focusing on investnts.
Not just stocks—real estate, too. And with every passing month, her inco only grew. Tens of thousands of dollars.
It’s just like in the book. Every company ntioned as a future success has been spot on. So naturally, if she invested in those dying businesses that were destined to make a coback, she’d make a killing, right?
Clarissa grabbed a newspaper and flipped through the financial section, carefully analyzing different companies. She needed to sort out the ones that were truly hopeless from the ones that had hidden potential.
She was deep in thought, pen in hand, when the door suddenly opened. Clarissa glanced up, surprised. It was Clentine.
Her mother’s expression was… strange. As if she was struggling to say sothing. Before Clarissa could ask, two figures stepped in behind her.
And then—before she could react—they rushed forward and grabbed her. A tight, desperate embrace. Tears.
"Clarissa! We've been looking for you everywhere!"
It took her a second to recognize them. The Lancasters. Her forr parents. Clarissa stiffened.
In the book, the Lancaster family had adored the original Clarissa, especially Ophelia—her so-called mother—who had spoiled her to no end. Even after discovering she wasn’t their biological daughter, Ophelia still loved her deeply.
Nathaniel, her forr father, had even proposed splitting the family fortune equally—half for Clarissa, half for Lyra, their real daughter.
But the original Clarissa had refused. She had believed that as the "true" Lancaster heiress, she was entitled to everything. And Lyra, that intruder, had no right to take what belonged to her.
So she had tried to ruin her. Over and over again. At first, the Lancasters refused to believe it. Their daughter—the one they had raised—couldn’t possibly be so cruel.
But then Dorian had exposed the truth. Evidence of everything. The threats. The manipulation. The worst of it all—Clarissa’s attempt to have Lyra raped and killed. That was when the Lancaster parents had finally given up on her.
Clarissa snapped back to the present, staring at the two sobbing figures before her.
But… things were different now. She had left the Lancaster family before any of that could happen. In this tiline, they still loved her.
Clarissa hesitated for a mont, but then—softly, cautiously—she spoke. "Dad. Mom."
Ophelia let out a choked sob. The mont she heard Clarissa call her "Mom," the tears ca even harder. She clutched her hands tightly and tried to pull her forward.
"Co ho with us, sweetheart! You can’t live in a place like this!"
Nathaniel nodded eagerly. "You and Lyra both—you’re both our daughters."
Clarissa had not expected them to try and take her back on the spot. She quickly reached out, pushing their hands away.
"Mom, Dad—what are you doing? Let go. I’m not going back."
The room fell into stunned silence. Even Clentine, who had already been grieving, looked utterly bewildered.
"Clarissa, what are you saying…?"
Clarissa straightened. Her voice was calm but firm. "I don’t want to go back. Not yet. I want to stay here—with my mother."
Silence. Pure, stunned silence. Then, realization dawned on them.
Clarissa had said "mother." But she wasn’t referring to Ophelia. She was talking about Clentine.
Ophelia and Nathaniel looked like they had been struck by lightning. Clentine, too, stared at her in shock.
She had called Clentine Mom.
Not only were Ophelia and Nathaniel stunned by Clarissa’s words, but even Clentine’s eyes widened in disbelief.
She had fully expected Clarissa to abandon her the mont the Lancaster couple arrived.
Clentine had already resigned herself to it. She had even hoped for it. No matter how much it hurt, she wanted her daughter to have a better life—a life free from the struggles of a run-down apartnt and barely scraping by.
That’s why she hadn’t stepped in to stop them. But what she hadn’t expected… was for Clarissa to be the one to refuse.
Clarissa glanced at Clentine and spoke calmly. "Mom, weren’t you about to go shopping?"
Clentine faltered. For a brief mont, sothing flickered in her eyes—sothing fragile, sothing she had long since buried.
Then, she let out a bitter smile. "Right…. I’ll go now. You all… talk."
Without another word, she turned and walked out. Inside, an awkward silence settled over the room as the three of them sat down.
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