The luxury sedan gliding toward the estate was worth more than Clara's entire neighborhood back home, but all she could think about was the ridiculousness of the situation.
She looked down at her hands. In the original novel, Seraphina had spent this entire car ride practicing her "pitiful" face so Julian would feel sorry for her.
"Pathetic," Clara muttered, leaning back into the heated leather seats. "I have a billionaire's bank account and a driver named Pierre. Why would I spend a single second crying over a man who has the personality of a frozen steak?"
The car pulled up to the grand entrance of the Arthurian Estate. Even from the driveway, Clara could see the "Main Character Energy" radiating from the garden.
"Miss Seraphina, we have arrived," Pierre said, opening the door. He looked like he was bracing himself for her to storm out and start a scene.
Clara stepped out, the sunlight catching the diamonds on her neck. She didn't storm. She didn't scream. She simply adjusted her sunglasses and smoothed her dress.
"Pierre," she said coolly.
"Yes, Miss?"
"Keep the engine warm. I don't plan on staying long enough for the drama to get boring."
As Clara walked into the garden, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. In the center of the lawn stood the "Holy Trinity" of the novel's plot.
There was Daisy, the White Lotus, currently soaking wet and shivering. She looked like a drowned kitten, clinging to the arm of Arthur, the Golden CEO.
Arthur was draped in a look of extreme concern, his hand hovering over Daisy's shoulder as if she were made of sugar glass.
And then, standing like a dark monument of judgment, was Julian.
His eyes locked onto Clara the moment she stepped onto the grass. If looks could kill, Clara would have been buried, cremated, and scattered by now.
"Seraphina!" Julian's voice cut through the air, low and dangerous.
Clara didn't flinch. In fact, she found herself distracted by how well-tailored his suit was. It's a shame he's such a jerk, she thought. That jawline is wasted on a man who doesn't know how to smile.
Julian marched toward her, stopping only inches away. The crowd held its breath, waiting for the inevitable screaming match.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Julian hissed, his shadow looming over her.
"Daisy is shivering because of your 'accident' at the fountain. Apologize. Now."
Clara looked past Julian's broad shoulders toward the fountain. Then she looked at Daisy, who let out a tiny, perfectly timed sob.
"Apologize for what, exactly?" Clara asked, tilting her head.
"For pushing her!"
Clara let out a light, airy laugh that sounded like silver bells.
"Julian, darling. Look at my shoes." She pointed to her five-inch designer heels. "Do I look like someone who would risk a sprained ankle just to touch a girl who clearly doesn't know how to use her own two feet?"
The crowd gasped. Julian's eyes widened. This wasn't the script. Seraphina was supposed to be crying by now, claiming she "didn't mean to" while grabbing Julian's sleeve.
"You..." Julian stammered, his brain clearly struggling to process the lack of a tantrum.
"If she fell, she fell," Clara said, waving a hand dismissively.
She then turned her gaze toward Arthur, who was watching the exchange with a bewildered expression.
"Arthur! You look lovely today. Is that a bespoke Italian cut? It suits your... golden aura."
Arthur blinked, his hold on the "shivering" Daisy loosening.
"Oh. Thank you, Seraphina. I... I didn't expect a compliment."
"Well, beauty should be appreciated," Clara purred, stepping right past a stunned Julian.
She walked straight to Arthur, ignoring Daisy entirely.
"The sun is far too bright for all this gloom, don't you think? Why don't you tell me more about that new tech acquisition I heard your firm just closed?"
Julian stood frozen in the middle of the garden. For the first time in the history of the "script," the Villainess hadn't even looked him in the eye for more than five seconds.
He felt a strange, cold prickle at the back of his neck. It wasn't anger. It was... confusion.
Why was she walking away? And why did he suddenly feel like he wanted to grab her arm and pull her back?
Clara, however, didn't look back once. She was too busy realizing that Arthur's "Golden Boy" eyes were actually quite mesmerizing up close.
Sorry, Daisy, Clara thought with a smirk. The Villainess is officially on strike, and I'm taking the Golden Boy with me.