Rich Radiant and Over Him (Alicia and Vincent) novel Chapter 218

Jade looked up at Tyrone, chasing after him not out of infatuation, but because of the Lynch family’s influence. She was perfectly aware of it—there was no way she’d ever fall for Tyrone himself. The man had a razor-sharp tongue, and nothing about his personality tempted her.

But Clayton was different. An orphan, with the look of someone who belonged to the White family but none of its power—Jade sometimes half-believed she was the one who owned him, his master by default. Maybe that’s why she found herself drawn to him, though Clayton never spared her so much as a glance.

“Where’s Grandfather?” Clayton ignored Jade entirely and addressed the butler instead.

“Young Master Holloway, the old gentleman’s gone to bed,” the butler replied, smiling. “It’s been years, but you look even more distinguished than before.”

Clayton was handsome, but not like Tyrone—Tyrone’s good looks were all rugged edges and bold confidence, while Clayton seemed as if he’d stepped straight out of a graphic novel: composed, ascetic, untouched by the world. His eyes, perpetually frosted over, made him seem immune to desire or intrigue.

Jade couldn’t remember ever seeing an unnecessary expression flicker across his face.

Maybe it was because he’d been abandoned by his parents as a child. He looked at the world with cool detachment, as if nothing could crack his composure or spark longing in him.

After all these years, he’d never once been seen with a woman. No scandals, no greed, no sign of any indulgence. Sometimes Jade wondered if the only reason he was still breathing was to repay the old man’s kindness.

“Didn’t even notice me, did you?” Jade snapped, annoyed that Clayton wouldn’t even look her way.

“Sorry. I just noticed you now,” Clayton said coolly.

He wore no unnecessary accessories—just a tailored suit, no expensive watch gleaming on his wrist, no designer cufflinks, not a single piece of flashy jewelry.

The only thing he always carried was a well-worn wooden cross. The old man had fetched it for him on Clayton’s eighteenth birthday, after a pilgrimage to St. Benedict’s Abbey, seeking a blessing from a renowned monk.