C12 The Lowly Clarissa.

She would look him straight in the eye and say with utmost seriousness, "Hollis, you're too powerful, too exceptional. With the multitude of enemies you have, you should be invincible, without a single vulnerability. Above all, your woman can't be your Achilles' heel. Faelyn is too fragile; she's not up to the task. But I, Clarissa, I'm different!"

Each time he rebuked her with, "You're despicable, coveting even a friend's possessions!" she would defiantly tilt her head up and counter, "Hollis, you're single at the moment. Since when did Faelyn become your girlfriend? I, Clarissa, will steer clear of you!"

Such a proud woman!

"Please, return my money to me," came the woman's humble plea.

Hollis's complexion turned a ghastly pale. Was this truly Clarissa? That same woman of pride and confidence?

Seizing Clarissa's wrist, Hollis yanked her toward his car.

"My money, let go of me! Without it, I can't leave," she insisted, her voice echoing in his ears. Hollis's gaze grew icier—she was indeed plotting her escape!

Abruptly halting, Hollis signaled to his black-clad bodyguard, Michael. "Check her luggage. Confiscate all cash and bank cards."

Clarissa's expression turned to one of panic. "What are you planning to do?"

With a mocking laugh, Hollis retorted, "Thinking of fleeing? Think money will set you free? Oh, Clarissa, either you're too naive, or I've grown too soft."

His voice, a whisper in her ear, was like a nightmare come to life. "Why would I ever let you off the hook so easily? Once you're out of jail, you should vanish, never to cross my path again. The moment you caught my attention, Clarissa, there was no escape."

With that, Hollis shot a meaningful glance at Michael, whose piercing eyes coldly surveyed the nearby taxi driver.

Michael nodded subtly, signaling his understanding.

Without a moment's hesitation, Hollis manhandled Clarissa into the car, then swiftly followed. "Drive," he commanded.

The driver responded with deference, "Yes, Mr. Morgan."

Throughout the journey, Clarissa remained silent, sitting beside Hollis like a block of ice, her body pressed against the car window, her heart pounding with fear.

Hollis, for his part, remained silent, his long legs crossed, his gaze downward, betraying no emotion. Yet beneath his gold-rimmed glasses, a storm was brewing; his calm exterior was a facade.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the car came to a stop. Clarissa's gaze shot through the window, her complexion draining of color.

"This is Night Emperor? Mr. Morgan, why have you brought me here?"

Throughout the trip, Hollis had not spared Clarissa a single glance. But now, hearing the panic in her voice, he turned sharply, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. With a half-smirk on his handsome face, he asked nonchalantly, "What do you think, Miss Jenkins?"

Gasping, Clarissa's voice trembled as she pleaded, "Please, Mr. Morgan, show mercy and let me go. Whatever I've done wrong, I apologize. I'll kneel, I'll bow..."

"Silence!"

Clarissa had never imagined that the ever-composed Hollis could erupt in such a fury. She was at a loss for words, her complexion ghostly as she hesitated, her knees beginning to buckle in the confined space of the car.

His eyes, dark and filled with rage, fixed on her. She was actually about to kneel. Had she no dignity left?

Seething with anger, Hollis flung open the car door and dragged Clarissa out. "So you want to kneel? Are your knees that soft? Is that how much you love groveling?" Hollis's handsome face was taut with tension as he dragged her to the entrance of Night Emperor Entertainment and flung her to the ground. "Since you're so fond of kneeling, Clarissa, go ahead and put on a show right here!"

He couldn't fathom why he was so livid. This woman, once insufferably arrogant, had become even more contemptible in her loss of pride.

Clarissa, Clarissa, Clarissa!

Was this the same Clarissa? The one who had boldly confessed to him, now a spineless shadow of herself?

Only now did Clarissa fully grasp the weight of Hollis's words. She looked at him, her face deathly pale, "Mr. Morgan, I realize my mistake. Please, I beg of you, I've served three years already. I..." She meant to say that once her debt was repaid, she would owe him her life, even to the point of dying in Faelyn's stead.

"You love kneeling so much? Then kneel!" he commanded, his cold features frosted over. "Since you're so eager, let everyone witness how Miss Jenkins of the Jenkins family disgraces herself!"

Clarissa swayed, believing she was beyond the reach of sorrow, that she could face everything with equanimity.

She was mistaken.

Miss Jenkins?

Hollis, are you jesting?

Who decreed that without Clarissa, there would be no Miss Jenkins of the Jenkins family ever again?

Kneel... Did she really want to kneel?

She didn't!

But who was she, after all?

Nothing more than a sequence of numbers: "926." She was stripped of everything. Dignity? Resolve? What a joke... Back when she was Clarissa, the esteemed Miss Jenkins, a single displeased word from him could land her behind bars, without even a sliver of a chance to argue her case!

Now, she was a nobody. Kneeling and trading her dignity was all she had left, no other leverage to negotiate with him.

Hollis, it's not that I'm fond of kneeling; it's that I've got nothing left to offer!

You've erased my past, obliterated Clarissa of the Jenkins family, erased a person's existence and history. I'm worse off than a homeless drifter on the streets—they at least have a history, a home. What about me?

Dignity? Clarissa's head hung low, the taste of bitterness in her mouth ignored. She was shaking, but she lifted her eyes to meet Hollis's dark gaze, and with that, she slowly sank to her knees. Hollis, only as Miss Jenkins did I possess dignity and pride. How could someone like me, a convict, claim any?

The man's lips were tightly sealed as he stepped forward, the whispers and stares of onlookers falling on deaf ears. He approached, his intentions unknown to all.

Before Clarissa, a pair of long legs came into view, the polished leather shoes reflecting meticulous care. Her heart fluttered, yet as the legs bent into a crouch, Clarissa instinctively looked up to meet an extraordinarily handsome face.

"Are you truly Clarissa?" The man's dark eyes bore into her with a mix of depth and perplexity, his voice stern. It was as if she'd been struck by a sledgehammer; her frame wobbled, and for a long while, she remained silent. Hollis then slowly rose, his gaze falling upon the woman beneath him, as insignificant as an ant, and commanded, "Come with me."