Love in Twilight novel (Clarissa and Damien) novel Chapter 242

Chapter 242 Do You Have an Opinion About My Room?

Damien moved Clarissa’s luggage into her room before taking a seat on the sofa. “Madam, my room’s here.” Mrs. Faber pointed at another room that wasn’t facing the sun.

“Do you have an opinion about my room?” Damien looked at her and asked.

Clarissa was tongue-tied. Though the apartment was in her name, it didn’t have anything to do with her, and she hadn’t spent a penny on it. “No, I don’t.”

“Mrs. Faber will take care of your meals, so you should avoid going downstairs unless it’s absolutely necessary.” Damien added, “If there’s anything that you don’t feel comfortable telling me, you can let her know.” “The babies aren’t yours. You really don’t need to do this,” Clarissa said. She was still standing in the foyer, and could see his side profile. At this moment, she saw the vein in his temple bulge. “Madam, you don’t need to argue with President Lawrence. You won’t be in a good mood if he’s mad,” Mrs. Faber said.

“One more thing. We’re already divorced, so you don’t need to address me as’ Madam’ anymore,” Clarissa told Mrs. Faber.

“This…” Mrs. Faber looked conflicted.

“Call her by name!” Damien spat this out coldly, then went to his room to change.

Clarissa went to her room as well. After unpacking her things, she pulled her journal out

Now that she no longer had to hand in her journal every day, she could write whatever she wanted to.

The events of the past few months made her feel like life was a roller coaster. She had recorded every single detail.

She could lie to Damien, but there was no way she could lie to herself. Everything she had written in her journal was true.

There was a lock on the desk drawer. Once she was done writing, she locked her journal inside the drawer.

Next door, in Damien’s room.

He was flipping through a stack of photocopied papers.

They were from Clarissa’s old journal entries. At that time, Damien felt that if Clarissa knew he was reading her journal, she wouldn’t write down her true thoughts. Thus, he told his assistant to make a copy of her daily entries, and even told his assistant to watch out for the little tricks that Clarissa had pulled. For instance, to make sure he left the strand of hair she’d slipped in between the pages in its original spot. In her journal, she hadn’t had much praise for him and had described him as a bastard, a jerk…