C11 He Came!

A second later, two sharp knocks echoed from the taxi's driver-side window. Clarissa heard a voice, cold and official, from outside, "Sir, please open the passenger door."

The tone was impersonal, devoid of any warmth, commanding despite the polite "please." It was clear Hollis's subordinates had taken a page from his book.

"Don't open the door!" Clarissa pleaded with the driver, her voice tinged with desperation. "I'll pay you..."

But before she could finish her sentence...

"Bang!"

The driver's side window exploded into a shower of glass.

The abrupt violence startled both Clarissa and the driver.

"I-I-I need to call the police! Isn't there any law left...?"

Swiftly, a stack of crisp red bills landed on the driver, an amount that looked to be around ten thousand dollars. The black-clad bodyguard outside the window, his expression as wooden as ever, inquired, "Now, may I open the door?"

"Yes, yes, of course! No problem at all!" The sight of money had the driver eagerly complying. He opened the passenger door and gruffly urged, "Come on, out you go."

Convinced that the woman next to him had crossed some high-powered figure, the driver felt no need for courtesy. He roughly prodded Clarissa to leave. She clung to the seat, refusing to budge, which prompted the driver to forcibly yank at her arm.

"Get out! I won't take you any further! Move it!"

Clarissa gripped the seatback, shaking her head frantically. No! No! She couldn't be thrown out!

"Get out," came a cool voice from behind her. The familiarity of it sent a shiver down Clarissa's spine, momentarily cooling the night's lingering heat.

No, she thought. Don't turn around. If I don't look, it's not real. It's just a hallucination.

"Don't make me repeat myself. Clarissa, you know what happens when you anger me," the voice behind her said, even more devoid of humanity.

Her face paled. She knew, oh how well she knew!

Suppressing her fear, Clarissa slowly turned to face him.

Hollis stood a few meters away, under the streetlight, a cigarette between his fingers. The smoke veiled his chiseled features as he took a drag, the dim light obscuring his expression. Yet there he was, beckoning her with a wave. "Come here."

His voice was deep and alluring, the kind that could bewitch any woman. But to Clarissa, it was a siren song of doom.

She didn't want to approach him, not in the slightest, but her feet betrayed her, carrying her towards the man beneath the streetlight.

Hollis's gaze briefly swept over her legs before returning to her face, his sneer laced with mockery. "Is this fun for you? The decisive and composed Miss Jenkins now dragging her feet to buy time? Heh."

Clarissa's breath caught as she pinched her thigh hard. Hollis believed she was stalling on purpose.

She wished it were true—that she was merely playing for time.

But the reality... the reality was a bitter laugh.

Biting back the pain, Clarissa quickened her pace, only to feel a familiar sting as she pinched herself again.

The man under the streetlight noticed her hastened steps, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. That's better, he thought. A toy should act its part.

He reached out, pulling Clarissa close. Hollis released his final puff of smoke, flicking the cigarette butt behind him without a glance. A subordinate was quick to catch it.

The next moment, Hollis's hand clamped around Clarissa's chin, turning her face this way and that as he scrutinized her flustered expression.

"Tsk tsk. When did the high-and-mighty Miss Jenkins become so timid and vulnerable that she's left humiliated by a mere taxi driver, groveling without a shred of dignity?" he taunted.

Clarissa shuddered, the words slipping out, "You had me followed?"

"Not too slow on the uptake," he remarked dryly.

Her face turned ashen, and a silent, bitter laugh escaped her. She had known Hollis wouldn't let her off easily.

Turning to the taxi driver, she spoke slowly, "You asked what I stole, why I was being chased with nowhere to run?" Her gaze met the driver's. "A life. I stole the life of a woman—the woman he loved the most," she said, pointing first at Hollis, then at herself. "My best friend."

Her words were deliberate, heavy with meaning, making those present feel as if they were not facing a young woman in her twenties, but an old soul weighed down by time.

Hollis detested that feeling, a surge of anger rising within him. He grabbed Clarissa's hand and shoved her into his car, eager to be rid of the discomfort.

Clarissa suddenly cried out, "Hold on, my money!" She dashed toward the taxi driver. Though she was "running," to onlookers, she merely moved a bit faster than a normal walk.

As she nearly reached the taxi, an arm snaked around her waist. "My money! Without it, how can I possibly..."

"How can you run away without money?" A cold voice cut her off, icily probing, "Really? Is that it?"

Clarissa froze. No! Absolutely not! She needed money, lots of it. She had debts to pay, a promise to keep... Her money! Her dream of Erhai! Her promise!

"Let go of me! My money!" Clarissa struggled, her voice hoarse as she yelled at the taxi driver, "Give me back my money!"

"Hey, you gave me that money. Can you just take it back after giving it away?" The taxi driver was certainly not keen on letting an easy catch slip through his fingers. Besides, this madwoman who had caused the death of that nobleman's lady wouldn't end well. Why should he be concerned?

"Give me back my money!" Clarissa's eyes blazed red. "Please, I'm begging you! Give it back! Without money! Without money! How will I manage!" Her pleas were both anguished and abject.

Boom!

Hollis was seething with rage!

He couldn't believe that the person before him was still Clarissa!

The woman who had once boldly declared her love for him, only to be met with his cold rejection, had lifted her delicate chin and told him, "Faelyn is quite good, but she's not right for you. A woman worthy of Hollis should be more self-assured and powerful, like me."