The doctor pressed his fingers to Clarissa’s wrist, his face grave. Phoenix stood beside him, tense and silent, until he finally straightened.

“Miss Clarissa’s caught a severe chill,” he said. “Her Qi and blood are in disarray, attacking her heart. I’ll prescribe medicine immediately. Once she regains consciousness, acupuncture would help stabilize her condition.”

“Qi and blood attacking her heart?” Phoenix’s jaw clenched. “Who the hell did this to her…” Her eyes flashed with quiet fury. Whoever had caused this—she’d make them pay.

Right now, though, Clarissa came first.

After giving the instructions, the doctor left to prepare the medicine. The housekeeper soon returned to say the bath was ready. Clarissa’s soaked clothes had to come off.

Phoenix dismissed everyone from the room. Then she exhaled, turning toward the bed.

Clarissa lay there motionless, her face pale against the sheets. Phoenix approached quietly, then leaned down and lifted her.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

She carried Clarissa out into the courtyard, where steam rose faintly from the wooden bathhouse. Setting her down, Phoenix hesitated for only a second—then lowered her, clothes and all, into the warm, herbal water.

The brown liquid rippled as it swallowed her small frame. Phoenix stepped in after her, the heat wrapping around them both.

She leaned back against the red lacquered wall, pulling Clarissa close. Even in the steaming water, Clarissa’s hands were still cold. Phoenix held them tighter, pressing them against her chest, trying to share her warmth.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”

Gradually, color began to return to Clarissa’s face. The tightness in Phoenix’s chest eased slightly. Then, just as Phoenix began to think she might have to call the doctor again, Clarissa stirred.

Her eyelashes fluttered. Slowly, her eyes opened—hazy, unfocused. She blinked, confused by the rising steam, the warmth, the strange light. Then her gaze landed on Phoenix.

Phoenix sat there in the water, holding her tightly, her clothes soaked through, strands of wet hair sticking to her face. Her expression was tense—half relief, half something unspoken.

Clarissa’s lips parted. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Phoenix…?”

“You’re awake,” Phoenix said softly, holding Clarissa’s hand. “Do you feel unwell?”

Clarissa blinked up at her, voice faint. “Much better now. Thank you.”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Phoenix murmured.

Clarissa, still half-conscious and weak, leaned into her arms. “How long was I out?”

“Not long—an hour or two, maybe.” Phoenix’s voice lowered. “Clarissa, what happened? Who did this to you?”

Clarissa dropped her gaze, avoiding the question. Her voice came out small. “Phoenix… can I stay here for a while?”

“Of course,” Phoenix said without hesitation. “For as long as you want. As long as I’m here, the Wraith family is your home. You don’t have to worry about anything. Just rest.”

The warmth in her tone melted something inside Clarissa. “You’re not going to ask what happened?”

Phoenix shook her head. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Clarissa’s eyes reddened. She had nowhere else to go, no one else to call. She’d simply thought of Phoenix—and somehow, she’d known she’d be safe here.

She took a shaky breath and began to recount what had happened.

Phoenix listened in silence at first, her expression unreadable. But when Clarissa mentioned Atticus, her eyes darkened like a gathering storm.

“That bastard,” she hissed. Her palm slammed against the surface of the water with a sharp slap. “He fucking dared—!”

She moved to stand, rage rippling through her, but Clarissa caught her arm. “Phoenix, don’t. Please. Don’t be reckless.”

“Clarissa…”

“It’s not because I pity him,” Clarissa said quietly, regaining her composure. “It’s just—what’s the point? It’s over. He’s a monster, and I’m done with him. If you go after him, you’ll only get hurt too.”

Phoenix clenched her jaw, unwilling but forced to sit back down. “So that’s it? Just like that, it’s over?”

Clarissa gave a bitter laugh. “What else can I do? Kill him?”

The thought crossed her mind more than once—slashing that smug face, making him bleed for what he’d done—but she knew better. Going against someone like Atticus would only end in ruin. And she wouldn’t drag Phoenix into that mess.

“I just want to stay as far away from him as possible,” Clarissa whispered. “If I never see him again, that’d be best.”

Phoenix looked at her—this fragile, trembling woman curled up beside her—and felt her heart ache. First Dorian, now Atticus. How many times would fate tear Clarissa apart?

She pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around her. Her voice cracked. “Alright. I won’t go after him. He’s not worth it. I’ll get your things tomorrow, and you can settle here.”

Clarissa tried to smile. “Thank you, Phoenix. Once I find a place, I’ll move out—”

“No.” Phoenix’s tone hardened. She tightened her grip around Clarissa’s hand. “You’re not going anywhere. Men are fucking worthless. From now on, this is your home. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

Clarissa looked at her, tears welling up. Her chest tightened with something she couldn’t name—grief, relief, guilt, maybe all of it. “Phoenix… don’t be so kind to me. I’m not…”

Before she could finish, Phoenix suddenly pulled her into an embrace. Her slender fingers slid up the back of Clarissa’s head, holding her close. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke.

“Stop talking. I know,” she whispered. “I’ve known for a long time.”

I know you’re not her. But I don’t care.

Clarissa froze. Phoenix’s words made no sense—not her? What did she mean? Did Phoenix somehow know she wasn’t… the real Clarissa? Or was it something else entirely?

But the next second, she exhaled softly, resting her head against Phoenix’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured.

The medicinal bath couldn’t last too long. After fifteen minutes, they both stepped out, the steam clinging to their skin.

Clarissa washed up, but when she went to change, she realized her clothes were gone—completely soaked and taken away to dry. Phoenix handed her a shirt.

“It’s all I’ve got for now,” she said.

Phoenix was taller and broader-shouldered—her shirt hung loosely off Clarissa’s smaller frame, the sleeves almost covering her hands. Phoenix’s lips twitched with the ghost of a smile, though she said nothing, simply passing her a pair of pants.

When they walked out, Xerxes was waiting in the hall. Relief flooded his face when he saw color had returned to Clarissa’s cheeks.

“Miss Clarissa! You’re awake. Are you feeling alright? I’ve prepared some food—would you like to eat something?”

Phoenix started to decline on her behalf, expecting Clarissa wouldn’t have the appetite. But Clarissa surprised her by smiling faintly.

“I haven’t had dinner yet,” she said softly. “So yes, I’m starving. Thank you, Mr. Xerxes.”

“Miss Clarissa, you’re too polite,” the old butler said with a warm smile. “I’ll have it ready right away.”

At the dinner table, Phoenix quietly watched as Clarissa finished her second bowl of rice. She hesitated before asking, “Clarissa… are you really okay?”

“I’m fine.” Clarissa set her bowl down and exhaled softly, as if letting out the weight of everything she’d been holding in.

Phoenix’s brows furrowed, worry still clouding her expression. “So, what’s your plan now?”

Clarissa thought for a moment. “Originally, I was planning to dissolve the company, pull out all my assets, and go live with my grandfather. But now… I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.”

Her voice steadied as she spoke. “I’ve figured it out. There’s no point losing my mind over a man. It’s not worth it. From now on, I’ll love myself first. I’ll go back to being me—the free Clarissa.”

Hearing that, Phoenix finally let out a breath of relief. “That’s right. No man is worth losing yourself over. But you’re still weak—stay here for now and rest. As for that damn tracker, I’ll have someone remove it once you’re better.”

Clarissa nodded. “Okay. But tomorrow, I’m going with you. There’s something I need to return to him. I want a clean break.”

Phoenix paused, then gave a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

“Then make sure you bring them all with you,” Clarissa said quietly.

Phoenix hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. “Got it. I’ll have everyone back tonight.” She frowned slightly.

Just then, Xerxes’s voice called from outside the door. “Phoenix, Miss Clarissa’s room is ready.”

“Alright,” Phoenix replied. “Tell the doctor to prepare everything there. We’ll be over in a minute.”

Clarissa’s room was next to Phoenix’s. The physician waiting for them was a woman in her forties—an old family doctor who had patched up Phoenix countless times. When she saw them approach, she gave a polite nod. “Phoenix. Miss Clarissa.”

Phoenix nodded back. “Let’s start.”

“Yes.”

After accompanying Clarissa through the acupuncture treatment and waiting until she drifted into a deep sleep, Phoenix quietly left the room.

Outside, Maximilian was waiting in the courtyard. “Phoenix.”

Phoenix walked toward him, stopping beside the koi pond. The surface rippled under the night breeze, moonlight breaking apart on the water. She sighed. “Maximilian… I let a wolf into the house.”

“It’s not your fault,” Maximilian said quietly. “That man—Atticus—fooled everyone. We were all taken in by his face and charm.”

Even as a boy, Atticus had carried that dangerous ambition, but none of them had seen it.

Phoenix’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Call Delilah and the others back.”

“Yes,” Maximilian said, bowing his head before turning to leave.

Phoenix lingered a while longer, her gaze drifting back to the darkened room behind her. Clarissa was safe for now. That was all that mattered.

She shook her head softly. “Let’s just leave it at that,” she murmured to herself. “Let her rest. The sooner she forgets that bastard, the better.”

Inside the apartment across town, rainwater pooled across the marble floor. Atticus sat on the balcony, soaked to the bone. The storm wind lashed against his face, blowing his hair into disarray.

In his mind, he kept seeing her—Clarissa—standing in the rain, trembling, drenched, trying to borrow a stranger’s phone. He’d watched as the first person recoiled and walked away. Watched her wipe the rain from her face and try again, patient.

A flicker of emotion—something like regret, something darker—flashed in his eyes.

He had pulled a stranger over by the arm that night.

“Hey—what are you doing?” the man had stammered, startled by Atticus’s wet clothes and cold stare.

Atticus wordlessly took a few green bills from his pocket and shoved them at him. “Go. Lend your phone to that woman.”

The man blinked at the money, then nodded and walked toward Clarissa.

Atticus stood there, watching as Clarissa finally made the call, then sat down on a bench beneath a flickering streetlamp. She looked so small. So fragile.

He clenched his jaw. Stupid woman… don’t you know how to find shelter?

He stayed there, watching from a distance, until Phoenix arrived and took her away. Only then did he leave.

Now, sitting on the balcony, the city lights stretched endlessly below him. His expression was unreadable, eyes dark and hollow, like a bottomless pit.