She took a step forward, ready to lunge, but Dorian’s sharp voice cut through the air.

  “Enough. Get back.”

  June froze. She turned to him, wide-eyed, but his expression was stone-cold.

  “Mr. Dorian, I—”

  “If it weren’t for Lyra, I wouldn’t even be wasting my time on you.” His voice was low, edged with warning. “So be smart. Shut up and do as you’re told. If you want this punishment revoked, then apologize properly.”

  Clarissa said nothing, just watched as June’s expression twisted from anger to humiliation. Then, finally, June dropped to her knees.

  “…I’m sorry,” she forced out through gritted teeth. “Please forgive me.”

  Dorian turned to Clarissa. “Satisfied now?”

  Clarissa let out a short laugh.

  “Satisfied?” She crossed her arms, staring at him like he’d just said something profoundly stupid. “Mr. Dorian, when did I ever say that an apology would be enough?”

  Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

  For a moment, the room was silent.

  Then, Dorian suddenly shot up from his seat, storming after her.

  He caught up in the hallway, grabbing her wrist.

  “Clarissa!” His voice was sharp, barely contained. “Have you had enough? When are you going to stop acting like such a spoiled brat? When will you finally change that arrogant, domineering attitude of yours?”

  His grip tightened slightly. “Can’t you be a little kinder? Do you always have to be so fucking difficult?”

  Hearing Dorian’s words, Clarissa felt a sharp pang in her chest—an unexpected ache, like a voice screaming inside her.

  “Brother Dorian, I did all this because I care about you…”

  “You’re my fiancé. Why should I just hand you over to someone else?!”

  The sudden rush of emotion stunned her.

  Why? Why did it feel like the original Clarissa—the girl whose body she now inhabited—was still lingering in her consciousness?

  Was it because, for a fleeting moment, Dorian had stood up for her? Had that tiny bit of consideration rekindled the original Clarissa’s misplaced hope?

  Clarissa took a deep breath. She clenched her fists and spoke firmly in her heart:

  Silly girl. He doesn’t love you. What’s the point of forcing a man who doesn’t have you in his heart to stay? The tighter you cling to him, the more he’ll see you as petty, arrogant, and willful. Because to him, you’ll always be wrong.

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  And just like that, the ache in her chest faded.

  Clarissa looked up at Dorian. His fingers were still wrapped around her arm, his grip firm. A second later, she shoved him off.

  "You want me to be like Lyra, right?" she said, voice steady. "Kind, generous—smiling even when I’m being humiliated. Sorry, but I’m not that person. Anyone who hurts me? I’ll return it tenfold, a hundredfold. I don’t believe in forgiveness."

  Clarissa had never been the forgiving type, in this life or the last. If she had been, she never would’ve survived the cutthroat world of top consulting firms. No prestigious background, no fancy degree—just pure, relentless drive. She knew how to fight for her place.

  Dorian looked stunned.

  The girl who had always followed him, listened to him—she was talking back? Defying him?

  "You…"

  Clarissa crossed her arms, a slow, mocking smile tugging at her lips. "Come on, Dorian. With your power, you could’ve easily forced the principal to revoke June’s punishment without negotiating with me."

  "But you didn’t. Instead, you made her kneel. Why?" She tilted her head, pretending to think. "Oh, I know—you wanted to remind me of our childhood friendship. And you figured, if you threw me a little kindness, I’d be grateful and fall in line, right?"

  Dorian’s face darkened. "Clarissa, you’ve been playing games with me all along. Are you still hate about Lyra taking me from you? I’ve told you before—I have never loved you. It’s always been Lyra."

  Clarissa nearly laughed. Seriously—do all overbearing CEOs have such an inflated sense of self-worth?

  "Dorian, you’re way too full of yourself," she said dryly. "I’m not interested in you anymore. Believe it or don’t—I don’t care. If you want to waste your time on June, be my guest. Just don’t drag me into it."

  His expression turned black with rage.

  Before he could say another word, Clarissa turned and walked away.

  Behind her, Dorian stood frozen, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked.

  Clarissa.

  Did she really think she could play hard to get with him? That he’d fall for her little act?

  Dream on.

  She didn’t want him to help June? Fine. He would.

  By afternoon, June’s punishment was officially revoked.

  Clarissa wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

  She’d already figured Dorian out—the more she fought back, the more it fueled his obsession. But she knew better than to push him too far. She wasn’t reckless. What she did to June earlier was just to vent some angry.

  But her so-called “restraint” had another effect: it sent a message. To everyone.

  People now believed that Dorian’s actions weren’t about June at all. That he was protecting Lyra. That Clarissa had completely lost his favor. And in a school, it didn’t take long for whispers to spread.

  Yet, while the school buzzed with gossip, eager for a front-row seat to the supposed battle of ex-fiancée versus new lover—

  Clarissa?

  She was in the library, peacefully enjoying her lunch.

  The library was exceptional. Not only did it offer an extensive collection of books to create the perfect learning environment, but it also provided on-demand meal service. You didn’t even have to search for books yourself—the administrator would bring them to you for a price. Of course, for students with less privileged backgrounds, there was the option of finding them manually.

  Clarissa ordered a meal set and a few books, then settled into a quiet, empty corner to read.

  Lately, she had been trying to uncover what hidden talents the original Clarissa possessed. And it turned out—the girl wasn’t just academically gifted. She had an exceptional ear for music, playing multiple instruments with impressive skill.

  Clarissa’s fingers brushed absentmindedly over the book’s cover.

  She had always loved music. But after an injury in childhood damaged her vocal cords, leaving her voice low and rough, she had never found the courage to sing again.

  Then came work—relentless, all-consuming. She had thrown herself into it, working her way up through sheer determination. By her thirties, she had a stable career, a home she had bought with her own savings.

  But no family. No partner.

  Only a few close friends—yet, every time she returned home, she was alone.

  A faint, bitter smile crossed her lips. But before she could sink further into her thoughts, a sharp, familiar voice cut through the air.

  “Ugh, just my luck. No matter where I go, I run into her.”

  Clarissa’s gaze flicked up, landing on June and Lyra standing not far away.