Dorian’s brows knitted tighter, and his lips parted slightly.

  “What money? What are you talking about?” But before he could press her further, Phoenix appeared and wedged herself right between Clarissa and Dorian without hesitation.

  Clarissa felt a wave of relief. She hadn't wanted to deal with Dorian any longer—especially under the weight of his strange, unreadable gaze.

  Before Dorian could speak again, she cut him off.

  “It’s nothing. Just a deal I made with Dorian a long time ago. It’s over now.”

  “Deal?” Phoenix’s eyes narrowed sharply. She turned to Clarissa, “You short on money? If you need anything, anything, you come to me. I don’t care how much it is.”

  Clarissa smiled gently and shook her head, voice soft but resolute. “No. I’m doing just fine now.”

  Phoenix paused, remembering that Clarissa no longer lived at the Lancaster estate. She was staying with her biological mother now.

  At first, Phoenix had been stunned when she saw the address Clarissa sent her—it was in one of the older districts. Clarissa, who had been pampered like a princess her whole life… what kind of hell had she gone through to end up there?

  Phoenix had seen the avalanche of online gossip while she was still on the plane. The more she read, the more furious she became. She had almost stormed back just to beat Dorian senseless.

  But she knew Clarissa. Clarissa was proud—elegant and aloof like a black swan, refusing to lower her head for anyone. The only person she'd ever yielded to was Dorian. But not anymore.

  Phoenix’s voice was calm but firm. “There’s nothing fun going on here. I’ll take you home.”

  Clarissa nodded. “Alright.”

  Just like that, she didn’t even spare Dorian another look. She walked out of the club, calm and composed, side by side with Phoenix.

  Dorian watched her walk away, her graceful figure lit by the soft club lights—curves elegant, back straight. He couldn’t look away.

  Lyra, face paled with tension, finally found him in the crowd.

  She had been scanning the entire place, looking for Dorian. And when she finally saw him, her heart leapt—until she noticed where his eyes were fixed.

  She followed his gaze and froze.

  From her angle, she could clearly see Clarissa and Phoenix walking together. Clarissa’s figure was seductive, elegant even in her simplicity. The light caught the curve of her cheekbone and the delicate line of her jaw. It was all so effortless.

  That was when Lyra realized—Dorian hadn’t looked away even once. The jealousy that struck her was sharp. She rushed over and reached out, grabbing Dorian’s hand tightly. “Dorian…”

  He blinked, pulled out of his trance, and looked down at her. “What is it?”

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  “You’re not happy, are you?” Lyra’s voice was soft, almost pitiful. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been to places like this before… I don’t know how to act. I must’ve dragged you down. If it had been your sister up there with you, you would’ve won for sure.”

  Dorian’s brow twitched, but he exhaled slowly, calming himself. He forced a smile and pulled her gently into his arms. “Silly girl. It’s just a game. That’s not your fault.”

  Lyra laughed, leaning into him. “Let’s go home. It’s getting late.”

  “Alright. I’ll take you back to the Lancaster estate.”

  Outside the club, Phoenix opened the car door for Clarissa.

  Clarissa, who used to demand attention with every step, now sat quietly, moving with quiet grace. There was no arrogance left—only poise.

  It didn’t make Phoenix happy. It broke her a little. “Clarissa,” Phoenix said softly.

  “Hm?” Clarissa looked up.

  Phoenix met her gaze, serious and steady. “If things ever get hard… you come to me. I mean it. The Wraith family’s doors are always open to you.”

  Phoenix’s words stirred something in Clarissa. Her eyes softened, and she nodded quietly. “Thank you…”

  Phoenix reached out and gently patted her head. “Silly girl. Don’t thank me. I told you—I’d protect you. As for that bastard Dorian—”

  “Don’t,” Clarissa interrupted softly. Her voice was calm, but firm. “Let the past stay buried.”

  Phoenix held her gaze for a beat, then gave a faint smile. “Alright.”

  When they arrived at Clarissa’s building, Phoenix stepped out first and went around to open the door for her. Clarissa didn’t say a word—just offered her hand as she used to, letting Phoenix help her out.

  “I drop you off and don’t even get a proper thank you?” Phoenix teased.

  “If you don’t mind,” Clarissa said with a small smile, “come up for a bit?”

  Phoenix’s lips curled in amusement. “Gladly.”

  Just as the two women turned to head upstairs, Phoenix suddenly stopped. A sharp glint crossed her eyes, and she raised her voice. “Who's there?”

  Clarissa froze slightly and followed her gaze.

  Footsteps echoed faintly in the dark, and from the shadows emerged a striking young man in a black T-shirt. His figure was lean—but it was his face that stood out. Beautiful. Almost unreal. A pair of eyes like star-stained velvet under moonlight. Eyes that didn’t belong to a boy.

  Clarissa exhaled when she recognized him. “Atticus? You’re still outside this late?”

  He nodded. His voice was even, but his eyes didn’t leave Phoenix. “Aunt Clementine asked me to check outside.”

  “Ah, I see.” Clarissa smiled slightly.

  Phoenix sized him up quickly, arching a brow. “Who’s this kid? Your brother?”

  Her tone was casual, but she looked him over with a sharper eye. He didn’t resemble Clarissa at all—but that face… dangerously pretty. Almost too perfect to be real.

  Clarissa shook her head. “No, he’s not. He ran into some trouble and he’s staying with us for now.”

  “Oh…” Phoenix hummed, not pressing further.

  “Let’s head upstairs,” Clarissa said, brushing the moment off.

  “Yes, please,” Phoenix said, swatting at a mosquito. “It’s hot out here—and crawling with bugs.”

  She took Clarissa’s hand again and guided her toward the stairs.

  “You don’t need to hold on,” Clarissa murmured, feeling a bit self-conscious.

  “Nope,” Phoenix said, tightening her grip with a smirk. “You’re in heels. And it’s dark. Just let me keep you steady.”

  Her tone left no room for argument. She helped Clarissa carefully up the steps, one hand always lingering just a second too long on her arm.

  Neither of them noticed the way Atticus’s eyes followed them, narrowing slightly. Behind his beautiful features, a shadow passed through his expression—quiet, cold, and unsettling. Those peach-blossom eyes, so exquisite, carried a flicker of something… darker.

  Inside, the soft kitchen lights glowed. Clarissa slipped off her heels and padded toward the kitchen. Sure enough, Clementine was still up, bustling quietly.

  “Mom, I already ate. You shouldn’t be staying up so late—it’s bad for your health.”

  “I’m fine,” Clementine said, smiling warmly. “I just made some soup. You and Atticus should have some—it’s good for your lungs.”

  When she saw Clarissa walk in, she immediately put down her spoon and came over. “Did you have a good time?”

  Clarissa nodded. “Very.”

  Clementine let out a quiet breath. Seeing the soft glow in her daughter’s cheeks, and the calm in her eyes, she relaxed.

  Meanwhile, in the living room, Phoenix had taken the center spot on the sofa, casually lounging. Atticus was already sitting on the other end, silent, back straight, eyes lowered.

  Their gazes met—briefly. Big eyes. Small eyes. A silent clash.