A few minutes later, breakfast was over, and Delilah bolted for the door, stuffed and sulking.

Phoenix rubbed her temple. “Clarissa, do you think she’s… acting out lately? She used to be such a quiet kid.”

Clarissa looked thoughtful. “Maybe she’s just hitting puberty.”

Phoenix froze. “What?”

“You know... she and William might have a little thing going on.”

Phoenix’s jaw dropped. “What—no! No way! Delilah can’t be in a relationship! Absolutely not!”

Clarissa blinked, half amused. “William’s a good man, Phoenix. You can trust him.”

Phoenix’s expression twisted. “You don’t understand. I’ll explain later. Right now, I need to talk to her.”

Before Clarissa could respond, Phoenix shot to her feet and stormed out in pursuit of Delilah.

That evening, Clarissa was at her desk, focused on the glow of her computer screen. Documents and reports filled the monitor, lines of text running endlessly down the page.

Beside her sat Delilah, still sulking. Phoenix had spent the entire afternoon scolding her and had officially grounded her, forbidding her from going anywhere for the next few days. The girl hadn’t said much since.

Phoenix herself had been called away by Maximilian and hadn’t come back yet.

Clarissa was halfway through a stack of paperwork when she noticed Delilah’s gloomy expression. With a small sigh, she set her pen down and called out to the servants outside. “Bring some dessert, please.”

A few minutes later, a tray of cakes and fruit arrived. The moment the plate touched the table, Delilah’s eyes lit up.

Clarissa smiled faintly and turned back to her computer.

Delilah leaned forward, curious about what Clarissa was working on—but the screen was covered in long strings of data, charts, and dense text that looked more like encrypted code than anything human.

After a few seconds of staring, she gave up and flopped back into her seat. “Clarissa, why are you just like William? Doesn’t all that make your head spin?”

Clarissa chuckled softly. “You get used to it. It’s part of the job.”

Atticus had handled most of the complex affairs before, but now she had to do everything herself.

Delilah propped her chin on her hand, watching her. “Master never taught me that.”

“Just do what you can,” Clarissa said gently.

Not everyone’s a freak like Atticus, she thought, learning everything in one damn glance. His face flashed through her mind, uninvited. She inhaled deeply, forcing the thought away.

From now on, she told herself, she and that man would have nothing more to do with each other.

......

By the time she finished working, Phoenix had returned. Seeing Clarissa clearing the table, Phoenix immediately stepped forward.

“Let me handle that.”

“It’s fine, I’m almost done,” Clarissa replied with a small smile.

Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out—Ophelia.

“Hello, Mom?”

“Clarissa, sweetheart, how have you been?” Ophelia’s voice was as lively as ever.

“I’m fine, Mom. Did you need something?”

“Well,” Ophelia began, her tone turning more businesslike, “you and Lyra aren’t getting any younger. Your father and I want to settle the inheritance paperwork now, to save trouble later. When can you come to the Lancaster estate?”

Clarissa hesitated only a moment. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ophelia sounded genuinely surprised. She’d half expected her daughter to refuse or make excuses.

“Yes,” Clarissa said firmly. “Some things shouldn’t be postponed any longer. Tomorrow’s fine.”

Ophelia let out a relieved laugh. “Alright, that’s wonderful. I’ll have Lyra come back too.”

“Okay.”

When the call ended, Clarissa turned her head—and found two pairs of eyes staring right at her.

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Delilah blinked. “I saw Phoenix looking at you, so I looked too.”

Phoenix rolled her eyes. “Delilah, go to your room. Sleep.”

“Huh? Why—”

Phoenix’s sharp glare cut her off. Delilah pouted, muttered, “Oh, fine,” and got up. She had barely reached the door when Phoenix called out again, “And if you even think about sneaking out again, I swear I’ll tan your hide!”

Delilah froze, glared back, and stormed off down the hall.

When she was gone, Clarissa let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve been pretty strict with her lately.”

Phoenix sighed. “She’s too naïve. She doesn’t understand how dangerous the world can be. If I don’t keep an eye on her, she’s going to get hurt—and that’ll be my fault.”

She sat down beside Clarissa. “Are you really going to the Lancaster family tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Clarissa shook her head. “No need. Delilah will be with me. Don’t you have things to handle tomorrow?”

Phoenix hesitated, frowning. “Your business is more important. I’ll go with you.”

The division of property might be nothing—or it might turn into something messy. Dorian would probably be there, and having Phoenix nearby would at least make her feel less exposed.

“Alright,” she said finally. “Come with me.”

Phoenix’s shoulders relaxed. “Good.”

Clarissa gathered up the last of her papers and yawned.

“Tired?” Phoenix asked softly.

“A little.”

“Then go to bed.”

Phoenix helped her up, guided her to bed, and pulled the blanket over her shoulders.

As Clarissa’s breathing slowed into sleep, Phoenix lingered for a moment, watching her face in the dim light. Then she quietly turned away, closing the door behind her with care.

Maximilian was already waiting in the corridor when Phoenix stepped out of Clarissa’s room. The moment he saw her, he straightened and followed.

“Postpone tomorrow’s meeting,” Phoenix said without preamble. “I’ll be accompanying Clarissa to the Lancaster estate.”

“Yes, understood.”

Phoenix paused halfway down the hall. “What’s Atticus been up to lately?”

“He’s gone abroad.”

Her steps slowed. “Out of the country?”

“Yes. He left that very night. So far, there’s been no record of his return.”

Phoenix fell silent. Typical of Atticus—always unpredictable. The man never left loose ends, but he was far too obsessive to simply disappear. Was he really lying low… or just waiting for the right moment to strike?

She clicked her tongue softly. “Keep an eye on all customs checkpoints. If anyone fitting his profile—or anyone suspicious—shows up, I want to know immediately.”

“Yes.” Maximilian hesitated, glancing toward Clarissa’s door. “Will you be staying with Miss Clarissa tonight?”

“No,” Phoenix said shortly. “We’ll talk in the study.”

She turned and strode away. Maximilian watched her retreating figure, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, then followed after her.

In the study, Phoenix sat at her desk, surrounded by papers and the cold light of the desk lamp. Maximilian stood quietly to one side, saying nothing. The room was silent except for the soft rustle of pages turning and the faint scratching of her pen.

When he noticed the tea beside her had gone cold, he lifted the pot from the tray.

“I’ll make you another cup,” he said quietly.

“Mm. Thanks,” she murmured without looking up, her pen still moving briskly across the page.

Maximilian’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he sighed inwardly and left the room.

Phoenix had been working herself to the bone lately—barely sleeping. He knew what she was doing: finishing the Wraith family’s unfinished business as fast as possible, consolidating power before anyone could interfere.

But no matter how busy she was, she always made time for Clarissa.

He exhaled softly. “Ah,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head, before walking off down the hall.

.....

The next morning, Phoenix accompanied Clarissa to the Lancaster estate.

The moment they stepped out of the car, they ran into Lyra and Dorian.

It had been a while since Clarissa had publicly chewed Dorian out at the company gates. Now, facing him again, the man’s eyes were fixed entirely on Clarissa. Clarissa, however, didn’t even glance at him. She adjusted her coat, calm and composed, and walked straight toward the main doors with Phoenix beside her.

The butler had clearly been waiting. When he saw Phoenix, his expression flickered with surprise. “Miss Clarissa, Miss Phoenix—may I ask…”

“She’s my friend,” Clarissa said smoothly. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Of course, Miss. Please, both of you—this way.”

Inside, the air smelled faintly of polished wood and old flowers. Before they could take another step, Ophelia appeared, hurrying down the stairs.

“Clarissa!” she cried, rushing forward. She cupped her daughter’s face in both hands, frowning. “You’ve lost weight again. Are you not eating properly out there?”

For a moment, she just stared—then her throat tightened, and her eyes grew hot. She threw her arms around Ophelia.

“Mom…” Her voice trembled.

Ophelia blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Sweetheart? What’s wrong? Who upset you? Tell me who it was—your father will make sure they regret it.”

Clarissa pulled in a shaky breath. “It’s fine, Mom. Really. It’s all fine now.”

She loosened her hold and gave her a watery smile. “It’s been so long since I last saw you. I missed you. I’ve been meaning to visit for ages.”

“Silly girl,” Ophelia said, brushing her cheek affectionately. “This is your home. You don’t need an invitation to come back. Now, come in. Phoenix, you too—I haven’t seen you in forever. Nathaniel will be thrilled.”

Phoenix nodded politely, following them inside.

From behind, Lyra watched the scene unfold—their mother glowing with affection, Clarissa radiant under it. The sight made her chest tighten. She forced a smile, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of sadness. Whenever Clarissa was around, she might as well have been invisible.

Dorian’s voice broke her reverie. “What are you standing there for? Come on.”

Lyra blinked, then nodded quickly and followed them into the house.

......

Inside the grand hall, everyone had already gathered. Nathaniel sat at the head of the long table, a quiet authority in his posture. He gestured for the butler to bring the prepared documents.

“There are two contracts,” Nathaniel said evenly. “One for Lyra, and one for Clarissa. If everything looks right, please sign them.”

Clarissa took her copy and flipped through it. It was a legal agreement drafted by the family’s attorney—page after page detailing the division of the Lancaster family’s businesses, estates, properties, and equity.

They had kept their word. Two-thirds of the family’s assets were listed under her name.

Even though… she wasn’t their biological daughter.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the document.

Beside her, Lyra scanned her own contract. Her share was smaller—barely half of Clarissa’s. She received a portion of the company stock, a few properties, and existing assets. It was more than enough for a lifetime of luxury, yet her chest burned as she read.

She had agreed to this before. So why now did it feel like swallowing glass?

“Clarissa, Lyra,” Nathaniel asked, looking between them. “Everything all right?”

Before Lyra could respond, Clarissa raised her head. “Mom, Dad… I have something to say.”

Ophelia immediately looked worried. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Is there an issue with the contract?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Clarissa said quietly. “But…” She hesitated, then drew a steady breath. “I can’t sign it. And I won’t.”

Before anyone could react, she tore the papers clean in half. The sound sliced through the room like a whip.

Ophelia’s face went pale. “Clarissa, what are you doing?”