Three years of loving him, three days to erase myself from his world novel Chapter 129

As Clara walked away, the phone in her hand continued to vibrate relentlessly.

Fearing that if she returned to the tea pavilion Julian would just keep calling and making a scene, she finally gave in and answered.

"What is it?" she demanded, her tone frigid.

There was a beat of silence on the other end before Julian spoke, his voice equally cold.

"Sera's design draft. You had other designers revise it? Who did you hire?"

His very first words were an accusation, dripping with absolute distrust.

Clara's throat went dry. A wave of pathetic, hollow laughter bubbled in her chest. For a moment, she was so utterly defeated she couldn't even form a sentence.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Julian pressed.

It was that same arrogant, commanding tone, as if she were a servant who owed him her life!

He was the one who had forced her to clean up Seraphina's disastrous mess!

And the second she actually did, he was the one interrogating her, suspecting her, breathing down her neck!

How could anyone be this shamelessly hypocritical?

Clara hadn't wanted to let him get to her, but the sheer injustice of it boiled over.

She let out a bitter scoff, her patience completely shattered. "Julian, I revised that draft myself. Believe it or not, I don't care. I'm busy."

She hung up instantly.

Dropping her phone, Clara pinched the bridge of her nose, a vicious headache throbbing at her temples. Every single conversation with Julian left her feeling completely drained.

She needed this nightmare of a life to be over. She genuinely just wanted out.

After taking a moment to compose herself, Clara let out a long breath, shoved her phone into her pocket, and headed back toward the tea pavilion.

Suddenly, a panicked shout echoed across the grounds.

"Hurry! Get the water buckets! The wintersweet arboretum is on fire!"

"Who the hell was careless enough to do this?! Ms. Shaw treasures those flowers! If she catches whoever did this, they're dead meat!"

"..."

Several maids dashed past her, carrying buckets of water, rushing frantically toward the blazing garden.

Clara stopped dead in her tracks, a deep frown carving into her forehead.

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