Aiden Sinclair's thin lips parted, and he uttered a single word without hesitation. "Yes."
Clara Jacobs froze as if struck by lightning, her body rigid and numb. Suddenly, she hated how clever she was, how quickly she had pieced everything together.
'He had been using her as bait to go after Julian Sinclair all along. How could he treat her so cruelly?'
'Impossible.' Clara Jacobs refused to believe it.
"When I was abroad, you wrote me so many love letters, all handwritten. I recognized your handwriting. You can't possibly not like me! If you don't like me, why did you write me a love letter every single month? Don't tell me you didn't write them!"
Aiden Sinclair said, "I did write the love letters."
Hearing this, a wave of joy immediately washed over Clara Jacobs.
But then, Aiden Sinclair's cold voice cut in again.
"But I was merely copying those words at someone else's behest. I don't even remember what you look like. How could I possibly like you?"
