Margaret's gaze drifted toward the staircase, then snapped back to Charles as a thought struck her. "Darling," she murmured, a silent understanding passing between them.

Charles cleared his throat, his voice carrying up the stairs after Clarice. "Since you're with Mr. Grant now, it's time to return the Moore family heirloom ring."

Clarice's step hitched for only a second at the mention of the Moores. A faint, mocking smile touched her lips, but she didn't turn or slow her ascent.

She and Jordan had been engaged for years-back when her mother was still alive. That heirloom ring had been passed down from old Mr. Moore, meant for his future granddaughter-in-law.

Clarice had always thought Jordan would be her husband. She'd done everything she could to impress the Moore family, hoping to marry him by the time she turned twenty.

Once that day came, she'd finally be able to leave the Sullivan house and start a quiet life with Jordan.

But that day never came.

She wasn't even twenty yet when Charles forced her to marry Theodore in Lydia's place.

What made it worse? Lydia and Jordan had already been together for two years. Charles, Margaret, and even Jordan's parents had known-and allowed it.

If the Grant family hadn't come out of nowhere with a proposal, Clarice might have stayed in the dark forever.

"Mom, what's Clarice's problem?" Lydia snapped, clearly annoyed at being brushed off.

"She's already with Theodore. Why is she still clinging to the Moore heirloom?"

Margaret patted her hand soothingly.

"Exactly, Lydia-like you said. She's with Theodore now. She has no future with the Moores."

"But what if she refuses?" Lydia fretted, her voice dropping. "You know Old Mr. Moore. He only acknowledges the woman wearing that ring."

A slow, calculated smile spread across Margaret's lips as she glanced toward the forbidden upper floor. "Then it's a good thing the sisters will have some time to reconnect today, isn't it?"

Understanding dawned in Lydia's eyes, bright and cruel. Of course. They still had Sophia.

Because of Sophia, Clarice had bowed her head and married Theodore. She was completely at their mercy.

-

She climbed all the way to the top floor-the forbidden level, where Charles permitted no one but himself. The air here was always still and heavy with silence.

Clarice paused outside the door, taking a shaky breath. All the defiance she'd worn like armor downstairs seemed to melt away, leaving only a raw, aching tenderness. When she stepped inside and saw Sophia, her eyes stung.

"Sophia."

A woman sat on the bed, long hair draped over her shoulders, quietly staring out the window.

She turned at the sound of Clarice's voice. And when she saw her, her delicate, pale face lit up with a soft, innocent smile.

Clarice walked in and climbed onto the bed, gently curling up in her arms.

"I missed you, Sophia."

Her eyes welled with tears almost instantly. She blinked hard to hold them back, wiped the corners of her eyes, and looked up again-meeting Sophia's dreamy, trusting gaze.

"Want me to brush your hair?"

Sophia didn't respond, her gaze still lost somewhere beyond the window, but she leaned slightly into Clarice's touch.

Clarice picked up the brush anyway and began running it through her hair.

She didn't know when-or if-she'd ever be able to get Sophia out of here. Or escape Charles's grip herself.

Marrying Theodore, breaking the engagement, giving up the ring.

Clarice didn't even want to imagine what Charles might try to force her to do next.

She had nothing left, but no matter how hard things got, she couldn't leave Sophia behind.

By late afternoon, Clarice left the Sullivan estate, the weight of Sophia's situation still pressing on her. But tonight-tonight was for the race. For the prize money that could change everything.

The underground race was set for midnight-dangerous, chaotic, and full of adrenaline. Definitely not for the faint of heart.

The prize money this time? Insane. Enough to make Clarice absolutely determined to win.

She'd been sneaking out to race for two years now, dancing with danger every time.

Her skills had sharpened, her courage hardened. Sure, she needed the money-but that didn't mean she didn't value her life.

Because if something happened to her-who would take care of Sophia?

----

"Clarice! Try not to wreck my brother's car,"Chloe grinned, leaning out of the driver's window.

Clarice took one look at the vehicle and knew right away-it was custom-built.

The curves, the interior-every detail screamed high-end performance.

"Factory custom," Chloe said proudly. "You won't find another one like it."

Clarice gave her a playful pat on the shoulder.

Same world, different scripts. Chloe had a big brother most girls could only dream of.

"By the way, Clarice-what the hell happened last night? You ditched me!"

Clarice quickly explained that the guy she kissed at the bar wasn't just some random stranger-he was her husband.

Yep. Theodore himself.

Her marriage was a tightly guarded secret.

Aside from her own family, only Chloe knew.

"Theodore?!" Chloe looked like she was about to jump off a cliff. "That was Theodore? Wait-so the rumors about him being... you know... are they true?"

Clarice almost laughed. If she only knew what he was like in bed.

"Seriously, with a body like that? No way. Unless. wait, don't tell me he's gay? Have you guys done it yet? How's his technique?"

Chloe's questions spilled out nonstop. Clarice was about to tell her to shut up when a voice called from behind.

"Claire!" Leo Grant swaggered into view, the onetime racing king dethroned by her.

"You lose tonight, you run ten laps around City Square.Naked."

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Leo wasn't here for the prize money. He just wanted to humiliate her.

"Deal!" Clarice snapped back without hesitation.

She wore a tight black leather jumpsuit that hugged her curves perfectly.

She looked sharp, sleek-and absolutely fearless.

"But if you lose, Leo, you run twenty laps. Same place. Same rules. Ten a.m. Naked," she said, smiling sweetly.

He wanted a show? Let's see if he could deliver.

"You-" Leo's face darkened, jaw clenching.

"Worry about your own underwear, Leo," Clarice said, yanking the car door open and sliding inside.

Chloe jumped into the passenger side beside her.

On the track, no one used real names.

Clarice was Claire.

Chloe was Coco.

"Let's get to the starting line," Chloe said.

This was no game. Once the countdown began, there was no room for hesitation. A single mistake on Velmont's wide, empty highways wouldn't just mean losing-it could be fatal.

Clarice pressed the accelerator and shifted gears in one smooth, practiced motion. Her hands were steady, her focus absolute.

The roads surrounding Velmont were deserted at this hour. The route was a circuit of the entire city-a brutal mix of narrow backstreets, dense downtown traffic, tunnels, and treacherous mountain passes. Brutal, but the prize made it worth the gamble.

The moment the race began, Clarice left Leo eating her dust. She pushed the car hard through downtown Velmont, building an early lead.

As they entered a long tunnel-a known hazard-she eased off slightly. Only one car was ahead, a Porsche that looked faintly familiar. Before she could place it, the screech of tires echoed behind her-Leo was closing in. Refocusing, she surged forward and overtook the Porsche.

Inside the Porsche, Theodore kept his eyes on the road ahead. He'd been outside the city all morning and was returning with Ethan Lewis.

"What's the rush? Eager to get back to your young wife?"

Theodore didn't react, his expression unreadable.

Ethan, undeterred, smirked. "I have to say, ever since you met her, you've been... different. Going soft, Theo?"

Theodore said nothing, but a muscle tightened in his jaw. Ethan's words, however irritating, held an uncomfortable grain of truth.

Then his gaze flicked to the glovebox, where the jewelry he'd bought for her sat.

"So the infamous Mr. Ice has finally fallen," Ethan pressed on, a teasing smile spreading across his face. "Let me guess-that jewelry in the glovebox is for her?"

Theodore's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "You talk too much."

Just then, a car flew past them. The window was cracked open and the wind slammed against the passenger door, making Ethan jump.

"Jesus!"

"Seriously, who drives like that?"

A second car whizzed by.

"They're racing," Ethan said, eyes tracking them. He looked back at Theodore and grinned.

"Come on, man-show them how it's done."

Theodore used to be a legend on the track. No one dared challenge him.

But he ignored Ethan, keeping his pace steady.

"Theo! What, you scared now? You or your car not up to it?"

"Step on it!" Ethan shouted, clearly frustrated.

"If you won't do it, pull over-I'll drive!"

"Shut up," Theodore growled.

He slammed the accelerator. The engine roared to life, and in seconds, they were flying toward the tunnel exit.

Ethan quickly checked his seatbelt. As much as he wanted to see Theo race again, he wasn't exactly eager to die for it.

"Faster! Come on-leave them in the dust!"

-

"Clarice, look! That Porsche's catching up!" Chloe shouted, watching the mirror.

The Porsche had just passed Leo like he was standing still.

"That car wasn't at the starting line," she added, suspicious.

Clarice knew it wasn't. That Porsche wasn't part of the race-they'd run into it in the tunnel.

She glanced back. Now the Porsche was riding right beside them.

The passenger window was cracked open, revealing half a man's face. He was grinning-smug and full of himself-like he was saying, "You think you can beat me?"

Clarice hated that look. After a day of simmering frustration, this was the spark that lit the fuse.

She slammed the gas, the speedometer jumping to 180 mph.

A sharp turn was coming up-tight enough that only one car could make it through cleanly.

Either her, or the Porsche.

She smiled coldly, calmly, and turned to Chloe. "Buckle up. Hold on."

She didn't just yank the wheel. She positioned her car with surgical precision, claiming the only viable racing line into the sharp turn. There was no way she'd let him pass.

"Clarice!" Chloe yelped.

Then came a loud crash-but it wasn't their car.

It was the Porsche.

Clarice had pulled up so close, she forced him to swerve hard. He hadn't expected it-panicked, jerked the wheel, and-bam-right into the guardrail.

Clarice drifted through the curve like she was dancing, her car spinning once before coming to a stop-perfectly-right in front of the Porsche's hood.

She rolled down her window, stuck her hand out.

.and gave him the finger.

Then flipped it upside down, smirking with pure, icy mockery.

Ethan stared, dumbfounded.

"She's insane," he muttered.

She'd practically forced them to crash. If Theodore hadn't reacted in time, they'd be wrecked too. Or maybe. maybe she knew he'd avoid it.

What the hell was going on? She'd just flipped him off-Theodore Grant-right to his face.

Who the hell had the guts to do that?

Theodore's expression darkened.

He stared at the girl with the long purple hair and night-vision goggles, brows furrowed deeply. Clearly, he didn't find her little stunt amusing.

It had been a long time since a woman pissed him off like that.

But he didn't chase her.

Instead, he killed the engine, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with calm precision.

"You're not going after them?" Ethan asked, stunned.

"Not interested," Theodore said flatly, exhaling a plume of smoke. His eyes, however, remained locked on the road ahead where the purple-haired vixen had disappeared, memorizing every curve of her retreat.

"That girl actually dared to mess with you? Gutsy," Ethan said with a smirk, clearly intrigued.

"I'll find out who owns that car. And once I do... want me to hand her over to you?"

"Don't bother," Theodore replied flatly.

"Huh... okay." Ethan found that odd but didn't push.

Clarice pulled her hand back, gripped the wheel, and shot toward the finish line with a victorious grin.

She knew she had this race in the bag.

The prize money-yeah, it was all hers.

The weight sitting on her shoulders finally felt a little lighter, and she actually let out a laugh.

Meanwhile, Chloe had gone pale and silent.

"What's wrong?" Clarice eased off the gas slightly, glancing at her in confusion.

That little stunt back there? Compared to the stuff they'd been through before, it was nothing. Chloe shouldn't be this shaken up.

Chloe was staring at her phone, her face drained of color.

"Relax, Chloe. The car's fine. Not a scratch," Clarice said, assuming Chloe was worried about the car-after all, it belonged to her brother, and explaining any damage would've been a nightmare.

"It's not that," Chloe said quietly, voice tight.

"Clarice... that car back there-it was Theodore's."

"Theodore's," Clarice repeated, the word feeling foreign on her adrenaline-numbed tongue. Then, like a bucket of ice water, understanding crashed down.

She slammed the brakes.

"Wait-what? Theodore?!"

Panic surged through her. She snatched Chloe's phone and stared at the screen, frozen in disbelief.

There it was-a photo of a sleek, limited-edition Porsche. The caption confirmed it:

Only one in all of Velmont. Owned by none other than Theodore Grant.

"There's no way that was him... right?"

Chloe nodded.

"Pretty sure it was."

He'd been driving too fast for her to get a clear look at first, but when the car slowed down, she'd checked. Combined with what she found online, there was no doubt-it was him.

"We're screwed."

"We didn't just make him crash... we flipped him off."

Clarice's earlier excitement vanished. All she could think now was: she was dead.

If Theodore found out the "sweet, obedient" girl he married was actually the wild thing who just made him crash a Porsche?

She was done for. He'd probably kick her out and send her straight back to the Sullivans.

And once Charles realized she was no longer useful, there was no telling what he'd do to Sophia.

Seeing the panic on her face, Chloe tried to calm her down.

"Don't freak out. You had makeup on, a wig, sunglasses... He probably didn't recognize you."

"Maybe we should just skip the award ceremony and head home?"

Clarice looked like she was about to cry.

Forget the prize money-she had no choice.

She couldn't risk giving Theodore even a sliver of recognition.

She had to get back to the Grant estate.

In the car, Clarice changed quickly into her "good girl" disguise-a white lace tea dress, modest and sweet.

As she got out and walked toward the house, Chloe shook her head in disbelief.

Looks could be deceiving.

Clarice might look like a soft, innocent girl on the outside, but deep down, she was a full-on wildcat.

And Theodore? The man actually believed her act.

Hopefully... he hadn't recognized her today.

Clarice greeted Mr. Chambers on her way in and went straight upstairs.

Aside from her, only Mr. Chambers and a few housekeepers lived in the mansion.

Since Theodore was rarely home, Clarice often slipped out under the excuse of visiting classmates.

Mr. Chambers never questioned her.

Compared to the Sullivan estate, this place gave her a kind of freedom she desperately needed.

She stepped into her room, and the fluffy Samoyed followed close behind.

"Snowy," she said, sitting by the window and glancing down at the white dog curled up beside her.

"Do you think your master recognized me today?"

Her mind was a mess. She kept staring outside, anxious she might miss the sound of Theodore's car returning.

Snowy looked up at her, let out a small whine, then flopped onto the floor.

"So... you don't know either, huh?" she murmured.

She was used to talking to herself.

Back at the Sullivan estate, Sophia was the only one who ever really listened.

At least here, she had a dog.

"If he did recognize me... he'd be furious, wouldn't he?"

"He'd think I lied to him. That I tricked him."

"But really... I didn't have a choice. I was never the sweet, obedient girl he wanted. I just pretended to be. If I didn't, Charles would've taken it out on Sophia."

Sophia had always protected her.

Now it was her turn to protect Sophia.

"God..." she sighed.

"I don't even know when I'll be able to get her out of that place."

Clarice could leave the Sullivan family easily enough.

She could work, survive on her own. She wasn't helpless.

But Sophia was different. Her health had been unstable for years. Clarice couldn't care for her alone.

And Charles would never let her go.

Clarice gently patted Snowy's head.

"Let's hope your master has bad eyesight."

She waited by the window for a long time, eventually dozing off on the carpet-completely unaware that Theodore had already returned.

He opened the bedroom door and immediately saw them-two white figures curled up by the glass.

One girl. One dog.

Both fast asleep by the window.

And for a moment... he couldn't help but remember a girl who once said she wanted to be his wife.

And that she'd wait for him, every night, until he came home.