Clarissa stood there, waiting. She wasn’t trying to play the villain. But sometimes, life forced you into that role.

  A tense silence gripped the room, the weight of a hundred watchful eyes pressing down on Lyra. She could feel their stares—sharp, dissecting, relentless.

  She couldn’t take it anymore. Taking a deep breath, she finally spoke. “I’m sorry, Sister.” Her voice was soft, trembling. “I know you and Dorian were engaged before. Even though there were no real feelings between you, I was the one who came between you two…”

  She deliberately emphasized the lack of love between them. The second she finished speaking, the whispers erupted. “So it’s true. Clarissa and Dorian were together first, and Lyra came later.”

  “‘Came later’? A homewrecker. She stole her own sister’s fiancé.”

  “That’s not fair. Dorian never loved Clarissa.”

  “Oh, please. Since when does love matter in these circles? Engagements are contracts, and Dorian didn’t refuse.”

  “Exactly. If you’re engaged to someone, you shouldn't seduce him. This Lyra isn’t sweet and good, she stealed Clarissa’s husband-to-be. ”

  Lyra listened to the discussions around her and felt that it was cruel, cutting deep. Her face paled. Her body swayed, as if she were about to collapse under the weight of their judgment.

  Clarissa’s voice sliced through the tension, calm and unyielding. “There’s more to say, isn’t there? Keep going.”

  Dorian caught Lyra just as she faltered. His eyes blazed with anger. “Clarissa, don’t take this too far!”

  Clarissa arched a delicate brow. “Too far?” Her voice was smooth as silk, yet laced with quiet steel. “I came because she asked me to. My dear sister is so kind, so generous. She won’t marry you unless I forgive her.”

  Dorian clenched his jaw. He had no rebuttal. After all, this was Lyra’s own request. Clarissa wasn’t demanding anything unreasonable. She was simply here to receive an apology.

  Lyra’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She bit down hard on her lower lip, as if trying to keep herself from breaking down. Then, she inhaled shakily and forced out the words. “I just… I just want to make peace with my sister in front of everyone.” She lifted her gaze, pleading. “I hope that we can have your blessing.”

  Clarissa smiled. And that smile—breathtaking, effortless, laced with an intoxicating mix of amusement and finality—stunned the entire room.

  For a long moment, no one moved. Then, with a slow tilt of her chin, she parted her red lips and spoke. “Apology accepted. And as for this man… I don’t want him anymore.”

  She let the words sink in. Then, with a graceful flick of her wrist, she gestured toward Lyra. “He’s yours. I wish you both happiness.”

  Silence. Pure, stunned silence. Then, before anyone could react, Clarissa turned on her heel and walked away.

  Her steps were poised, unhurried, decisive. She didn’t look back. The moment she exited the grand doors, the whispers erupted once more—only this time, the tone had shifted. “Damn… Clarissa is incredible.”

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  "Why didn’t I notice how stunning she was before?”

  “Stunning? Hah. She just humiliated them in front of everyone.”

  “Her fiancé was stolen. You’d be furious too if someone took your man and your wealth in one move. All she asked for was an apology. That’s more mercy than most would show.”

  “Honestly? Men are replaceable. It’s not worth crying over someone who doesn’t love you. Clarissa did the right thing.”

  “Exactly. She’s fearless. She loves fiercely, and she lets go just as easily.”

  “What a coincidence. I think I’m in love with her, too.” Suddenly, the engagement party was no longer about the bride and groom. It was all about her. Clarissa Lancaster.

  Across the room, Drake leaned against his cane, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “Now that,” he murmured, amused, “was a pleasant surprise.”

  Kira's mind still spinning from what had just happened. She turned to Drake and hesitated before asking, “Dad, aren’t you angry?”

  Drake arched a brow. “Why would I be?”

  Kira bit her lip. “Clarissa was a little… willful this time.” Clarissa had changed. If before, she was justsatisfactor, then tonight, she had been nothing short of breathtaking.

  She wasn’t arrogant or impulsive. She hadn’t stormed in and made a scene. Instead, she had handled the entire situation with an effortless grace, leaving Lyra with no choice but to shoot herself in the foot.

  As a woman who had spent years in high society, Kira knew that Clarissa had played this beautifully. Still, she kept her tone cautious, mindful of the old man’s feelings.

  To her surprise, Drake waved his hand dismissively. “Kira, she handled this perfectly. Not only did she avoid offending the Harringtons, but she also preserved her own dignity. Why would I be angry?”

  Kira hesitated. “But Lyra…” After tonight, Lyra’s reputation would take a brutal hit.

  The Harringtons were powerful, but even in their circles, having a woman steal another’s fiancé was scandalous.

  Mistresses existed in wealthy families—it was no secret, even in an old-money empire like the Harringtons. Even if she married in, she had to be pristine in the public eye, her every move carefully controlled.

  Drake chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Kira, this is just an engagement. Let’s see if it lasts.”

  Kira immediately understood. A slow smile curved her lips as she lowered her eyes and murmured, “Dad, you really do see farther than the rest of us.”

  Drake stood, tapping his cane against the marble floor. “Let the young ones figure themselves out. Come on, we’ve got a mess to clean up.”

  Kira quickly steadied him by the arm. “Yes, of course.” And with that, they walked toward the heart of the chaos.

  Outside the grand estate, Clarissa’s carefully composed elegance began to crack. The adrenaline had worn off.

  Her heart pounded, and a thin sheen of sweat clung to her skin. But it was worth it. Lyra had lost face in front of the entire elite circle, and Clarissa didn’t regret a single second of it. She had never been the kind of woman to swallow her pride.

  The night was deep, the air thick with the scent of blooming night jasmine. It was well past nine, and she didn’t want to trouble the Lancaster family’s driver. Just as she pulled out her phone to call a car— A firm, unyielding grip closed around her wrist.

  Clarissa’s breath hitched. Her head snapped up, and she found herself staring into a pair of cold, piercing eyes. Dorian.

  The sharp angles of his face were cast in the dim glow of the estate lights, his expression unreadable, his gaze like ice.

  He always looked at her like this. Cold. Detached. But with her? With Lyra? He was warm, gentle.

  A slow, mocking smile curled her lips. “Dorian, shouldn’t you be inside, celebrating your engagement? Why are you out here?” She twisted her wrist, trying to break free, but his grip was like steel.

  His voice was low, rough. “Clarissa, what are you playing at?” His dark eyes burned into hers, as if trying to see through her, to read her.

  Somewhere along the way, she had changed. She no longer clung to him. She no longer followed him with those hopeful, lovestruck eyes. Even when he had stood before her with another woman, she had barely blinked.

  “I don’t want this man anymore. I’ll give him to you.” The words echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving. Dorian’s grip tightened. “Is this a game to you?” His voice dropped lower, laced with something dangerous.