She knew men too well.
Clara failed to catch up with Winter, but instead, her gaze fell upon Adrian Whitmore. He stood beneath the shadow of a plane tree, phone pressed to his ear, and not far from him gleamed a brazen orange-red sports car.
From the half-lowered passenger window emerged the delicate face of a freshman—Annabelle Stone. With her doe-eyed innocence and burgeoning online fame, she embodied the perfect blend of purity and allure. A yellow plaid bustier paired with a white tiered skirt gave her the kind of glossy aesthetic designed to ignite trending feeds.
[Sweet and spicy little fox!]
[Oh! The male lead is taking his girl to the pool!]
[She can't swim, so he'll teach her himself—this is going to be adorable!]
[Iconic scene incoming: the frightened maiden diving into his arms!]
"Manager Chen, a new recruit will report to your department on Monday. Place her in the Whitmore-Foster drone project team," Adrian spoke coolly into the phone.
Clara, passing by, caught the words. Manager Chen—the very man who had kept her internship certificate hostage. Her heart faltered.
The autumn wind swept through, whistling with such force it seemed to rattle her bones. She heard Adrian add, with an uncharacteristic hesitation: "She'll be in your division. See to her… care."
How ironic. Adrian had once despised nepotism. He had even warned Clara not to reveal their connection at the firm.
[Ah! He's assigning subordinates to take care of his girl!]
[Daddy-boyfriend vibes! Straight into the drone project the rival fought months to secure. Résumé gilded in one phone call!]
[Imagine how furious the rival must be!]
Clara exhaled sharply. The very obstacle that had tormented her for weeks was effortlessly brushed aside with a single command. How insufferable the wealthy were.
The Foster drone initiative had been her project from the start. When senior staff at Whitmore's doubted they could secure Foster's prestigious contract, it was Clara—unseasoned but fearless—who spent sleepless nights reworking proposals until she earned Foster's willingness to even hear them out.
But the live commentary kept buzzing.
[Anyone notice they're in matching outfits? Both in yellow! Perfect couple!]
[Yellow… ah, can't wait for the swimming lesson. Once she gets flustered, she'll tease him under the water—it's bound to get heated!]
[Brothers share everything—what's a little touch?]
And then, his voice.
"What are you doing here?"
Clara lifted her head. Adrian was staring at her, bristling like a cat with its tail stepped on, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Were you eavesdropping? How long have you been there?"
"Just arrived," she replied evenly.
"What did you hear?"
"Nothing at all."
Only then did he relax, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets, tossing her a glance laced with disdain. "What do you want from me?"
"My supervisor keeps withholding my internship certificate. The deadline is approaching."
"You expect me to intervene?" Adrian's lip curled. "And why should I? Who exactly are you to me?"
The wind gusted colder. Clara clenched her fists, her restraint fraying.
"Because I'm your father," she retorted under her breath.
[Wait, did the side character just curse out the male lead?]
[Did I hear that right?]
From the sports car came Annabelle's honeyed whine. "Adrian, are we leaving soon? I'm getting sleepy."
Adrian blinked, momentarily thrown by what he thought he'd misheard. Surely Clara wouldn't dare speak to him that way. Must have been an illusion.
"…I'll be right there," he finally murmured.
[Her voice is so sweet—no wonder he paused!]
[She may be fierce on the outside, but that soft tone is irresistible.]
[He definitely has feelings for her, even if he denies it.]
Clara bit back her own emotions. Once, perhaps, she had felt something for him—back when he shielded her in this unfamiliar city. But those days had long turned hollow. She had resolved to release him.
The campus broadcast crackled alive, a husky female voice drifting with mournful melody:
"He never once said he loved you.
Yet every word from your lips was I would.
One lonely response from him, and you soared with joy."
Clara almost laughed. The timing was too theatrical.
Still, she remembered. In those days before her face blindness was cured, she had believed in the light she sensed in Adrian's gaze whenever he looked at her. She mistook it for affection, blind to the truth—that even then, his care had been intermittent, his warmth conditional.
Now the sun poured through the branches, painting her face in shards of gold, scattering the chill from her skin. She knew what she needed to do next.
And when her mother later appeared, forcing a swimsuit into her hands, commanding her to "win Adrian back at any cost," Clara lowered her lashes, lips curving into a practiced smile.
"Very well, Mother. I'll bring him back. But why not give me the household register now? Once his impulsive promise to marry is secured, you'll have nothing left to worry about."
Her mother's eyes gleamed. "We'll see. Perform well, and you'll have it."
By evening, Clara stood at the entrance of The Eden Club, the city's most exclusive private pool. Inside, Adrian was already in the water—with Annabelle draped over him like a child clinging to a raft. Their laughter echoed, their bodies close, until Adrian caught sight of Clara in the shadows.
His lips curved—not kindly.
And when he dragged himself from the pool, water cascading from his shoulders, his grip on her wrist burned hotter than flame.
"What now, Clara? Will you stand aside, watching silently forever? Or will you finally admit you want me—jealous, furious, and shamelessly so?"
Behind him, Annabelle's shrill cry rang out as she slipped beneath the surface.
"Adrian! Help me!"
And the air thickened with anticipation.
[The iconic mouth-to-mouth rescue scene is coming!]
[It's all the side character's fault—she pushed too far!]
[Doesn't matter. Kiss her, Adrian! Kiss her like you mean it!]