Nathaniel’s confusion showed, though his voice stayed calm. “Darling, are you unhappy with the arrangement? Is it too little?”

“Clarissa,” Ophelia added quickly, “just tell us what you want. Lyra already said she’d leave it all up to you.”

Lyra’s fingers curled at her side, knuckles white, but she said nothing.

Clarissa looked at her parents—two people who had shown her kindness even when she didn’t deserve it—and something inside her cracked.

For years she had avoided them, avoided this.

Then, before anyone could stop her, Clarissa dropped to her knees. “Dad. Mom…”

The room froze. Everyone stared, stunned—Phoenix included.

“Clarissa, what are you doing?” Phoenix stepped forward to help her up, but Clarissa shook her head. Nathaniel and Ophelia both moved toward her, but she lifted her hand to stop them.

“Please,” she said softly. “Just listen to me.”

She lowered her gaze. “I don’t want a single cent of the Lancaster family’s fortune.”

“Clarissa, don’t be ridiculous. Stand up first, all right?” Nathaniel’s brow furrowed deeply.

Tears streamed freely down Ophelia’s cheeks. “Clarissa, what are you saying? Don’t you want us anymore?”

Clarissa closed her eyes. She had held this in for too long. She couldn’t carry it anymore.

“Mom. Dad.” Her voice trembled. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Thank you for letting me call you ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ again. You gave me life, and you raised me—and both mean everything to me. You’ve already done more for me than I could ever deserve. I don’t want anything else. From now on, if you ever need me… I’ll be there, no matter what.”

The room went utterly still. Nathaniel didn’t move, his eyes glassy with disbelief. Ophelia broke down, sobbing openly.

Only Phoenix remained calm, though her chest ached with quiet pride.

Clarissa rose slowly. Phoenix reached out and steadied her, offering a faint, helpless smile. Clarissa returned it, a soft light in her eyes.

Phoenix turned to Nathaniel and Ophelia. “You heard her,” she said gently. “Let it be. Clarissa’s capable enough now to stand on her own. She’s made her choice.”

Nathaniel’s throat worked. Then he reached out, resting a trembling hand on his daughter’s head before pulling her into his arms. “All right,” he said hoarsely. “If that’s what you want… I’ll respect it. You’ve really grown up, Clarissa. I’m proud of you.”

Ophelia joined them, wrapping her arms around both of them as tears poured down her face.

Lyra stood a few steps away, motionless. Her fingers dug into her palms until her nails bit deep.

For as long as she could remember, she had been the one who needed coaxing, who needed her parents’ affection. But ever since Clarissa’s return—ever since she had changed—everything was different.

Clarissa didn’t even want the Lancaster fortune.

She could have had everything… and yet she turned it away so easily.

Then why, Lyra thought bitterly, why did it feel like she was the one losing everything?

Why was Clarissa always the one everyone loved?

She was the real daughter of the Lancaster family.

So why did she feel invisible?

The Lancasters insisted everyone stay for dinner. After the meal, conversation thinned, and one by one, the guests began to leave.

Clarissa and Phoenix were just stepping out the front doors when a voice called from behind.

“Sis!”

Clarissa stopped and turned. Lyra was hurrying toward her, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

Clarissa’s gaze softened slightly. “What is it?”

Lyra caught her breath before speaking. “Mom and Dad already decided to give you the inheritance—so why refuse it? Was it because of me? Or… because of Dorian? Or maybe…”

Maybe it was just a performance—a way to look noble and generous in front of everyone. A way to make her seem petty in comparison.

Lyra had been chewing on that thought all through dinner.

But before she could finish, both Clarissa and Phoenix burst out laughing.

Lyra’s expression froze. “What… what’s so funny?” she demanded, a tremor in her voice.

Clarissa’s smile was sharp, her tone cutting but calm. “Lyra, you’re overthinking it. I don’t give a damn about that bastard Dorian. And as for the inheritance—how do you know I can’t build something bigger than the Lancaster fortune on my own someday? Just because you can’t doesn’t mean no one else can.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “You—”

Clarissa’s smirk deepened. “You keep saying you don’t care about the inheritance, but if I’d actually taken it, would you really be happy? You’d hate it—and you know it. You just wanted the chance to play the gracious sister.”

“I’m not!” Lyra snapped, her eyes going red.

Clarissa looked at her, unamused. “Lyra, be honest with yourself. Say what you really want for once. Stop crying and pretending to be some fragile little victim. You’re a Lancaster. Act like one. If I were you, I’d claim the heiress title loud and proud—and as for that man Dorian? Either dump his sorry ass or put him in line. In the Harrington family, if you can keep him in check, the rest will fall right behind him.”

Lyra blinked, taken aback. “You… you really think that?” she asked quietly.

Clarissa sighed. “That’s all I’ll say. The rest is up to you. You can keep living under everyone’s pity—your husband’s indifference, the Harringtons’ contempt—or you can stand up and act like the real heiress you are.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Lyra rooted to the spot, lost in thought.

.......

The car was quiet on the drive back. Streetlights slid across the windshield in fleeting golden streaks.

Phoenix glanced sideways. “Why did you bother talking to Lyra that long?”

Clarissa rested her chin on her hand, eyes on the passing city lights. “For my own peace of mind.”

If she hadn’t transmigrated, things would’ve followed the same script as before. She’d never hurt Lyra intentionally, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d stolen something from her—some invisible luck that had once been hers.

Clarissa didn’t like that thought.

Ever since William had shown interest in her, something had felt wrong. Back then, she’d been caught between Atticus’s obsession and her own blindness to love.

Phoenix didn’t fully understand what was going through her head. She just sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong to her. The baby switch wasn’t your fault. And honestly, those two—Lyra and Dorian—they’re made for each other. Let them keep their delusions, just don’t let them drag you down with them.”

Clarissa let out a soft laugh. “You actually make sense for once.”

Phoenix grinned. Seeing that small spark of amusement return to Clarissa’s face finally eased the weight sitting in her chest these past few days.

She’d worried Clarissa would be crushed by love again—but clearly, she’d underestimated her.

Clarissa knew how to let go.

“Do you really think Lyra can handle Dorian?” Phoenix asked after a pause.

Clarissa’s expression turned thoughtful. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. But compared to Atticus, Dorian was a lot easier to predict.

....

The drive back to the Wraith estate was filled with laughter and easy conversation. With the tension finally gone from her chest, Clarissa was in unusually good spirits.

That night, after the doctor finished examining her, Phoenix stood nearby and asked, “So? How is she? Is she fit for surgery?”

The doctor adjusted his stethoscope and nodded. “No problem at all. The implant is tiny—removing it’s a routine procedure. Miss Clarissa’s body can handle it perfectly.”

Phoenix exhaled in relief. “Good. Schedule the operation for tomorrow. Have everything ready.”

“Yes, miss.” The doctor gave a polite bow and left, closing the door behind him.

Now, only the two of them remained in the quiet room.

Clarissa had just finished an acupuncture session. Her robe had slipped open slightly, revealing the smooth line of her back, pale under the warm light.

Phoenix froze for half a second, pulse quickening, before turning toward the door.

“Phoenix,” Clarissa called softly. “Sleep with me tonight. I want to talk.”

He hesitated but finally toed off his shoes and lay down beside her. When she leaned into him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “What’s wrong? Are you nervous about the surgery?”

Clarissa shook her head against his chest. “No. The doctor said it’s nothing serious.”

Phoenix’s voice was low. “Then… are you afraid of Atticus?”

Clarissa nodded faintly. “I’m not scared for myself. I’m scared he’ll go after you.”

Phoenix went silent. The Wraith family wasn’t easy to mess with, but Atticus wasn’t just anyone. Clarissa knew him well—he was patient, calculated, and terrifying when crossed.

Phoenix’s eyes hardened, though her tone stayed calm. “If you’re really worried, let me handle the company for a while. Once that tracker’s out, you should stay with Mr. Callum. He can protect you better than anyone.”

Delilah meant well, but she was too green to face someone like Atticus.

Clarissa thought it over and nodded. “Alright. But there are still some things I’ll need to explain in person first.”

Phoenix brushed his thumb across her forehead. “Once you’ve recovered, you can do whatever you want.”

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “Sleep.”

“Mhm…” Clarissa murmured, her body relaxing completely in his arms. Within minutes, her breathing evened out.

......

The next morning, the tracker—barely a quarter the size of a grain of rice—was removed without Clarissa even feeling it.

Phoenix stayed by her side the entire time. When she saw the blood-stained chip lying on the tray, a flicker of cold fury flashed in her eyes.

Even so, Clarissa rested for a full week before returning to work.

That day, when she arrived at the company, Delilah and Abyss followed close behind her. The sight of the stunning woman flanked by Delilah and a sleek black panther drew plenty of startled stares, but no one dared to approach.

Clarissa strode straight through the lobby and into her office as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Oriana followed her in, pale and sweating. The panther lay sprawled lazily by Clarissa’s feet, its tail sweeping back and forth, occasionally brushing her leg.

By the time Oriana finished her report, her blouse was sticking to her back with sweat.

Clarissa flipped through the documents, scanning the figures with practiced ease. “Everything looks fine. Oh—and how’s Mark doing lately?”

Oriana blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “He’s… doing incredibly well. That last drama made billions in revenue. His endorsements are off the charts.”

Clarissa nodded, thoughtful. “Let him start working with international brands. The higher the profile, the better. Push him into the luxury market and elevate his status.”

Oriana hesitated. “Wouldn’t that be a little… too much? If his image collapses later—”

“It’s fine,” Clarissa interrupted smoothly. “Do it anyway. I’m more worried it won’t be high-profile enough.”

There was a gleam in her eyes—cold, ambitious, and utterly sure of itself.

After finishing her reviews and handing off final instructions, Clarissa finally decided to head home.

But when she stepped outside, rain was pouring down in sheets.

“Oh no, Clarissa—it’s raining!” Delilah exclaimed.