Clara paused, a warm feeling blossoming in her chest. "I won't. Thank you, Mr. Jarrett."
She hung up the phone.
The lingering warmth stayed with her.
Until a text from an unsaved number popped up on her screen:
[I'll be at The Conrad Hotel later tonight as well.]
Signed: Julian.
She had blocked his number, so he resorted to texting her from a new one.
Clara furrowed her brows, a tangled knot of emotions twisting in her stomach.
She couldn't figure out what was going through his head or what he was trying to achieve.
If he didn't love her, why couldn't he just let her go?
Clara stared at the message for a long moment before tossing her phone aside without replying. She climbed out of bed and continued organizing her apartment.
She had made her choice to leave.
And she was never looking back.
...
At six o'clock that evening.
Clara finished getting ready and drove to The Conrad Hotel.
The organizers had spared no expense for the championship, and the welcome banquet was a stunning display of luxury and elegance.
Clara parked her car. As she stepped out, her phone buzzed with a message from Leo Miller:
[Are you here? I'll come out and get you.]
A grateful smile touched Clara's lips. She knew he was worried about the gossip and wanted to personally escort her inside.
[I'm here. Just parked.]
Leo: [Great. Head toward the entrance, I'm on my way.]
Clara sent a quick reply, pocketed her phone, locked her car, and walked toward the grand doors.
"Ugh, isn't that Clara Vance? She's driving a Range Rover. That thing costs over a hundred grand. How could someone from her background afford that?"
"She probably bought it with her sugar daddy's money."


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The readers' comments on the novel: Three years of loving him, three days to erase myself from his world