Clara drove to the venue. Today was the official championship, and the place was swarming with media. The moment she stepped out of her car, she saw a mob of reporters hoisting their cameras and sprinting toward a specific spot in the distance.
"Hurry up! Mr. Lowell and Ms. Shaw are over there. If we're late, we won't get the shot!"
"..."
A loud buzzing filled Clara's ears.
She numbly pushed her car door shut and looked in the direction the reporters were running.
Sure enough, surrounded by flashing cameras and thrust microphones, were Julian and Seraphina.
Clara blinked slowly. Suddenly, the tender, whispered explanations the man had murmured in her ear last night echoed in her mind.
He said he and Seraphina had only bumped into each other by coincidence.
He said they hadn't arrived together.
...
And now?
Clara exhaled a long, heavy breath and let out a bitter laugh, her eyes freezing over with icy detachment.
She truly wanted to slap the version of herself that had wavered for even a fraction of a second last night!
At that exact moment, Julian, who was currently frowning in irritation at the flashing bulbs, seemed to sense something. He looked up, and his gaze collided violently with hers.
His dark eyes flickered—first with surprise, and then with stark panic.
Clara's expression remained perfectly frigid. She turned on her heel and walked directly toward the main hall lobby.
Behind her, that domineering, heavy gaze followed her every step.
Julian's brows locked in a deep scowl, a chilling aura radiating from him. He shoved aside a microphone thrust into his face and said coldly, "I have business to attend to. Just interview her."
The reporter was instantly cowed, awkwardly retracting the microphone. Not daring to push their luck, the crowd swarmed Seraphina instead. Still, murmurs of confusion rippled through the press—yesterday he had defended Ms. Shaw so fiercely, so why was he abandoning her today?



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