Chapter 7: Aren't You Coming Back to See Him?

It was impossible.

The pampered and spoiled Jane Zheng could never bring herself to bow down and beg for forgiveness a second after hurling insults. She knew Clara would make her lose face completely before agreeing to help.

Yet, this was the first time Jane had ever had to call around begging for help over the price of a few coffees. Her father didn't pick up, and her mother was too busy, claiming it wasn't worth a trip for a few cups of coffee. When she called her friends, they couldn't help but mock her. "No way, whose coffee is that expensive? If you can't afford it, don't drink it."

"I'm getting my nails done, I don't have time."

Some eventually realized that getting into a spat with the Harrison family yielded no benefits—whether it was Clara, whom they considered fallen, or Chloe, who came from humble beginnings.

The group quickly tried to smooth things over. "Jane was just emotional and said some unpleasant things. We're all friends here, just out for fun. We apologize, let’s just put this behind us."

Jane was displeased. "Why are you all blaming me now? Didn't you say those things too?"

Her companion was equally annoyed; she truly didn't want to offend the Harrisons, as her father would kill her. "We were wrong. Clara has a good temper; we'll just apologize. Why do you have to make such a big deal out of everything?"

Jane felt like she was hearing a joke. "Now she has a 'good temper'? How can you be so two-faced? What you said back then was way worse than me—"

"You—shut up!"

Regardless, Jane would rather die than lower herself to beg. However, having them watch her frantically call around for help wasn't exactly saving face either.

Clara ignored their bickering. She sat nearby, watching the drama unfold while waiting for the result. The Berko manager handed her the catalog again to choose her birthday cake. The manager glanced at the flustered young girls and shook his head inwardly. These children were too short-sighted with their snobbery. Regardless of Clara’s birth status, the twenty years of connections, insight, and resources she had accumulated couldn't be ended by a single DNA report.

One of the girls couldn't hold out any longer and came over to apologize to Clara and Chloe. Even after apologizing, she didn't dare not pay, eventually calling her family to settle the matter.

About half an hour later, an assistant to Jane Zheng's father arrived in a frantic rush. Upon entering, he immediately apologized to Clara. "I am terribly sorry. This was our fault; please don't take offense."

Clara didn't answer.

Ignoring Jane’s reaction, the assistant quickly added, "We will compensate for all the losses in the shop and the damaged furniture at full price."

Jane’s eyes widened. "What are you doing? They smashed it themselves—"

The assistant held Jane back, hurriedly finished the compensation, and left. Once outside, Jane was escorted away by bodyguards, stomping her feet in rage. "Why were you so subservient? It’s so embarrassing!"

So what if they were the Harrisons? Her father joked about the Harrisons every day. When the real estate boom hit Harbor Bay, the old patriarch and Howard were one of the main factions. But everyone knew the current state of real estate. Even if Quentin had established other industries since taking over, he had only been at it for a few years. Besides, after Clara’s scandal, their stock had dropped for seven consecutive days, with many investors talking about pulling out. Their future was uncertain.

Meanwhile, her family’s business had skyrocketed in just three to five years. When the wind of the era blows, even a pig can fly.

The assistant couldn't speak too harshly to her, but he was tired of the noise. "Chairman Zheng was anonymously reported today. The board is currently in a meeting."

Jane asked indifferently, "Reported? For what?"

"Bribery and illegal misappropriation of public funds." The assistant’s voice was weary. "New evidence is being submitted every day. Mr. Zheng is at his wit's end and told you to keep a low profile. Some of the evidence includes your personal expenses—including that necklace."

Jane froze.

Back in the now quiet cafe, Clara reached across the bar table without warning toward the black stud on Chloe’s earlobe. Chloe instinctively dodged, causing Clara to miss.

Failing to touch it, Clara curled her lip and went back to biting her coffee straw. She couldn't explain why she suddenly wanted to touch Chloe’s earring. She found it mysterious; at first glance it was dull, but occasionally it flashed with a strange light. It wasn't the fire of a gemstone, but more like a high-tech blue glow.

Chloe studied her for a long time before speaking. "Are you that curious about me?"

"Who's curious?"

Suddenly, with a

clack

, Clara saw Chloe place the small robot she had used to spy on her recently onto the table. Clara froze mid-bite on her straw.

Chloe continued, "Not curious?"

Clara’s eyes darted around. She snatched the robot, stuffed it into her bag, and tossed it to Cherry. "Not curious."

Chloe smiled but said nothing. Clara felt that same glint of amusement in Chloe’s eyes from that day. She covered her tracks clumsily. "You recognize this thing?"

"Imbue AI smart robot," Chloe reminded her. "Sister, I work in digitalization. Remote surveillance cameras are entry-level tech." In other words, she knew from the start that Clara had been spying on her.

Clara spun her bar stool around, turning her back guiltily. "Oh." She changed the subject, holding up the cake manual. "Which of these two do you think is better?"

A very clumsy excuse.

Chloe actually gave her a choice. "Caviar."

Clara nodded, handed the manual back to the Berko manager, grabbed her bag, and stood up. "Then I'm heading out."

Chloe suddenly asked, "Are you going home tonight?"

Clara didn't want to go back yet. "No, I haven't played enough. Unless you get Daddy to beg me to come back."

Clara was still angry. She had been out for days, and Howard hadn't even asked about her. The only time he called was to find her second brother through her. Penelope had asked a few times, but that was just how Clara was. Unless both "culprits" bowed their heads, she wasn't going back.

Chloe didn't quite understand their family dynamic and found it strange. "But your dad asks every day at home and keeps nagging your mom to message you."

Clara held a grudge. "That doesn't count. Does he think I'll just crawl back because he throws out a hook?" It was as if she were the one desperately trying to stay in that house.

Chloe found them interesting. If it were her own dad, he would have bombarded her with messages like "my good daughter," "don't scare Papa," and so on. He could coax a girl like Clara home in three seconds. Howard, by comparison, was the type of father she disliked—autocratic and overbearing. He had brought her over but didn't want to send Clara away. Taking advantage of the fact that her own father didn't know yet due to his special profession, Howard had acted on his own, which made Chloe quite frustrated with him.

Howard had promised her mother compensation on the condition that Clara stay with them. Her mother, afraid of causing trouble for her father, didn't argue and certainly wouldn't take the money, but she had to report the situation to her father’s unit. Meanwhile, Howard wanted to pay tens of millions a year to keep Clara but refused to apologize or coax her home, stubbornly insisting she would return once she was tired of playing. He acted as though everything was under his control and he only needed to give orders, never bow.

He had issues. But Chloe could understand—anyone who has been a leader for too long usually develops some mental baggage.

While Chloe was lost in thought, Clara suddenly leaned in. "Why ask? Do you want me to come back?"

Chloe paused and said nothing.

Clara slowly brushed the hair away from Chloe’s ear. "Isn't it better if I'm not home? We won't have to deal with the awkwardness."

As that picture-perfect face leaned close, Chloe felt uncomfortable with the proximity and turned her gaze toward her coffee cup. "Why would you think—"

Before she could finish, Clara’s fingers suddenly pinched her earlobe. Chloe went silent instantly. In the next moment, she felt Clara rub the earring and then give a mischievous laugh. "Got it."

Clara was like a cat—the more you told her not to do something, the more she wanted to do it. Having succeeded in her mischief, she clapped her hands and left breezily. "I'm off."

Chloe reacted a beat late and let out a light laugh, taking off the earring. On her phone were several replies from the Harrison Group’s secretaries: [Investigation info on Jane Zheng received and submitted to HQ.]

Chloe didn't care about a fifty-dollar fake, especially since it would cost Jane’s family at least five hundred million. It was the price the Zheng family paid for spreading those secrets and destroying her peaceful life.

Her driver was waiting outside. Chloe got into the car, opened her tablet, and set the earring aside. The faint light of the camera inside had been manually disconnected. With a few taps, she pulled up several video files—all clips of socialites bragging about their wealth in front of her. Every piece of leverage counted. She moved them to cloud backup and cleared her local space.

The video files flashed by, and she hit pause at a certain moment. On the screen was an enlarged but crystal-clear image of the Eastern beauty’s face. With a delicate and charming expression, Clara was brushing Chloe’s hair aside and saying something cute. As Clara’s fingertip cleared the dull surface of the earring, it more clearly reflected those moon-bright eyes and jade-like skin.

Chloe thought: She... really does look like her mother. People are naturally inclined to feel affection for faces they have long been close to, even if it's just a resemblance.

Late at night, a modified motorcycle sped through the empty, silent streets, finally stopping at the entrance of a bar. A man with long legs leaned against the bike, his leather pants reflecting the cold city lights, emphasizing the firm lines of his powerful legs. He removed his helmet and set it aside. His fringe was slightly damp with sweat, framing his sharp, angular face and highlighting his heroic features.

Zander got off the bike and walked straight into the lounge club that was still open late. The late-night lounge was never short of regulars, with singers performing one song after another. At a VIP booth, a young man waved him over.

Zander approached and placed his keys on the table. "Give me yours."

The young man handed him the prepared keys and teased, "That car of yours has been at the airport for a month without maintenance; it’s a miracle it ran this long. But are you in such a hurry to go back tonight? It's 3 AM."

Zack remembered that Zander had received the news just before he was set to compete in an off-road race. He had driven that race more fiercely than ever before and didn't even stay for the awards ceremony once it was over.

Annoyed by the surrounding noise, Zander pocketed the keys to leave. "I'm going back to check."

"Check on who?" the man leaned against the bar. "Your precious sister shouldn't be home these past few days."

Zander paused his exit and looked back. "Why?"

"Just a rumor. I did some digging and someone said they saw her at a hot spring resort..." The man twirled his key ring, but before he could say more, he felt a chilling aura rising from the floor.

Zander had returned at some point, leaning against the bar. "And?"

The man stopped twirling the keys. "Nothing... that's all."

"Oh," Zander suddenly gave a sinister smile. "So, why were you digging around about my sister?"

The man felt numb from head to toe. "No, I actually... I..."

Before he could think of an excuse, a burst of harsh laughter erupted from a nearby booth.

"Why didn't you invite that little actress you just met to come play?"

"I did. She's new to the industry and doesn't know her place yet. I'll trip her up a bit, and once she hits a wall, she'll know to come begging me."

"Seriously though, that photo of Clara was everywhere back then. I thought she was going into entertainment."

"What a waste. If she had entered the industry, now that she's in trouble, we'd be doing more than just preying on these little actresses, hahahaha..." The group laughed again, their voices oily and arrogant. "It's not a waste. Who says there isn't still a chance?"

Suddenly, someone tapped the speaker on the shoulder. The man turned around impatiently. "Who's that?"

Zander wore a mask, his face hidden in the dim light. "Borrowing a light."

The man sized him up, tossed him a lighter, and went back to bragging with his companions. The lighter spun in Zander’s hand as he easily flicked the valve and lit a cigarette. The bronze metal casing flashed a beautiful arc through his fingers.

After chatting for a bit, the man noticed Zander walking away with the lighter. "Hey! You kid, come back here!"

With his back to them, Zander walked out, still playing with the lighter. "Don't be in such a hurry." A blue flame flickered in his eyes for a moment. "Here."

The lighter was tossed back. The man caught it while cursing and began to flick it. On about the third flick—

BOOM!

An explosion ripped through the booth! Wine bottles shattered one after another, and screams filled the room. Waiters rushed forward in a panic.

Zack watched the chaotic table and took a sympathetic sip of his drink. Only Zander acted as if he hadn't heard a thing, the corners of his mouth curving slightly as he walked out, leather jacket in hand. The orange glow of the fire reflected off the leather as chaos erupted behind him.

The next day, a rare text appeared on Clara’s phone.

Daddy: [Your third brother is back. Aren't you coming back to see him?]

Clara was soaking in the hot spring; she glanced at it and set it aside.

In the main residence at Cloud Bay, Howard sat at the table, flipping through the group's financial reports, glancing at his phone every now and then. He sent the message in the morning, yet there was no reply even by the afternoon.

Penelope noticed his subtle movements, playing with her nails which were starting to lose their rhinestones. "What are you looking at?"

"Work."

Penelope didn't mince words. "I told you to just call her. You just had to keep up your 'fatherly' act."

"Wen Ni" was Clara’s name before it was changed. Howard Wen Ni. Now, fewer and fewer people knew that name; it had become a private name her parents used.

Howard frowned. "I said it's work. There's a board meeting at four."

Penelope stood up and patted Howard’s stoic face. "Then go be with your work."

Howard clicked his tongue. "Look at you, getting impatient again. She learned it from you—running away at the drop of a hat."

Penelope ignored him and slammed the door. Once she was gone, Howard couldn't help but pick up his phone again. A notification appeared at the top, and he opened it quickly.

It was from his secretary: [Chairman, the car for the 4:00 meeting has arrived at Cloud Bay.]

Howard: ...

He didn't reply and left with a stony face.

Shortly after Howard left, everyone in the house received notice that Clara was returning and hurriedly began preparing dinner. Only Howard was busy with work and hadn't been told yet.

Clara entered the living room and saw Zander coming to meet her. She happily threw herself at him. "Third Brother!"

"You're finally back! I missed you so much." "I watched the live stream of your race. It was so cool!"

At that moment, Quentin was standing at the living room entrance. Elliot was leaning against the second-floor railing. Both watched intently as Clara hugged Zander and said she "missed him."

Zander sensed their gazes and lazily swept his eyes over them. He supported Clara’s waist. "Did you see me accept the award? This year’s trophy is very beautiful."

Clara blinked. "I saw it! I wanted you to bring it back so I could play with it."

Zander gave a light laugh, leaning close to her ear. "What a pity. I didn't actually accept the award. Who were you watching?"

Clara felt a numbness where his hand held her waist. Zander took in her expression. Since she was a child, Clara had always been lovable, but you never knew which of her words were true and which were just for coaxing. So, she had lied about the race. What about missing him?

Caught under his gaze with nowhere to hide, Clara had to tell the truth sheepishly. "Actually... I fell asleep halfway through."

Elliot approached at some unknown point. "What are you doing?" He unobtrusively grasped Zander’s wrist where it held Clara’s waist. He felt resistance as he tried to move Zander’s hand away. The two forces competed, feeling strange against Clara’s body. Ultimately, Zander yielded and was pulled back half a step.

Elliot kept his usual smiling face. "Why is Clara being so enthusiastic toward him?"

"I'm not, I'm just saying hello," Clara said, trying to ease the awkwardness. She took a cookie and said with her mouth full, "In foreign countries, a kiss is just a greeting."

"Oh, a greeting." Elliot nodded, then looked at her, his voice very low. "Then how come I haven't seen you greet me like that?"

Clara froze while biting the cookie, a strange feeling crossing her heart. Elliot’s deep eyes watched her as he openly and naturally spread his arms.

Then, his arms were pushed down by Quentin.

Quentin said one word, short and sharp: "Leave."

"Penelope is cooking today. She said if you have nothing to do, go help in the kitchen."

Elliot and Zander could say no more and reluctantly left the living room. The room quickly became quiet.

Quentin stood nearby and took a tissue. Clara watched them be driven away with a sense of schadenfreude, feeling relaxed. She took another sea salt cheese cookie. "This is so delicious. Big Brother, try—"

Before she could finish, Quentin’s hand with the tissue was already at her lips, wiping away the crumbs stuck to her soft red mouth. The man’s rough fingertip, through the tissue, pressed against the softness of her lips—intentionally or not—as he asked a question heavy with pressure:

"Is kissing also 'just a greeting' to you?"