Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Clara’s POV 

"Miss Russell, there's no point in yelling at the staff. She's just following orders," a sharp voice called out.

A middle-aged woman in a sleek gray suit stepped out of my open apartment, flanked by two burly security guards.

It was Attorney Vance, my stepmother's personal legal counsel.

"Intruding into my home and tossing my personal property into the hall?" I said, stepping forward, my voice trembling with rage. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"I am simply executing the law," Attorney Vance said with a smug smile. "This penthouse no longer belongs to you. It has officially been transferred to your stepsister, Miss Sarah."

"This is my mother's property!" I snapped, my fists clenching at my sides. "She will explicitly state that this residence remains mine!"

"Under the condition that you were legally married before your twenty-sixth birthday," the lawyer corrected smoothly, holding up a copy of the deed. "Since you reached that deadline today without a husband, the secondary clause kicked in, allowing your father to transfer the title to Sarah. 

“Unless you miraculously found a husband this morning, you have zero legal standing."

"A husband?"

A bitter, cold laugh escaped my lips. I reached into the pocket of my trench coat and pulled out a small, crimson booklet. 

Walking forward, I let it drop onto the top of a cardboard box with a satisfying thud.

Attorney Vance scoffed, picking up the small book with an annoyed sigh. 

But as she flipped it open and read the stamped name and official seal, the color drained completely from her face.

"Harry... Johnson?" she whispered, her hands beginning to tremble. "Registered... at 10:15 AM today?"

"Which means my mother's condition was fulfilled hours before your fraudulent transfer," I said, stepping into her space, my tone dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You have exactly sixty seconds to make your security guards carry every single item back into my home and place them where they belong. 

“If there is a single scratch on my furniture, I will not only sue your firm for illegal entry, but I’ll let my new husband’s legal team handle the proceedings."

The mention of the Johnson family legal team sent instantaneous panic through the lawyer. She frantically motioned to her guards. "Move! Put everything back! Right now!"

As I turned toward my apartment door, I caught a glimpse out the floor-to-ceiling hallway window. Idling near the front gates of the complex was a sleek black Maybach.

Was Harry still down there? Watching?

I shook my head, dismissing the thought. I walked into my apartment, poured myself a glass of ice water, and sank heavily onto the sofa as the movers rushed to clear out.

Once the front door finally clicked shut and silence returned, my phone rang. It was an unsaved number.

I let it ring until it stopped, but it immediately began buzzing again. With an exhausted sigh, I pressed the answer. "Hello?"

"You really can't go a single day without acting like a desperate sham, can you?" a harsh, slurred voice sneered through the speaker.

My stomach dropped. Julian. 

My ex-boyfriend, Harry's brother.

"Watch your tone, Julian," I said coldly, my grip tightening on the glass.

"Why? Because you're trying to play innocent now?" Julian laughed bitterly, the sound heavy with alcohol. "I saw the tabloids, Clara! I saw how shamelessly you threw yourself at my brother outside the hotel yesterday! 

“Don't get ahead of yourself. Harry would never actually look at someone like you. You're just a tool to him."

"Julian, we broke up weeks ago," I said, a cold wave of nausea washing over me as memories of his betrayal surged back. "Who I talk to and what I do is none of your business. Never call this number again."

"Clara, don't you dare hanging up on—"

I cut the call off and threw the phone onto the cushion beside me.

My hands were shaking violently. 

My chest felt tight, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. 

The stress of the last twenty-four hours, the confrontation with the lawyer, and the sound of Julian's hostile voice seemed to collapse on me all at once.

My fingers slipped, and the crystal glass fell from my hand, shattering against the hardwood floor with a deafening crash.

Ding-dong.

The sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through the apartment.

The sound triggered a sharp wave of anxiety, bringing back memories of the night Julian had cornered me. 

My vision blurred slightly, and I struggled to draw a full breath.

Ding-dong.

Gasping for air, I pushed myself off the sofa, desperate to make the ringing stop. I stumbled across the room and pulled the heavy front door open.

Harry stood in the doorway, his hand still raised near the door chime.

"I saw the lawyer's car leave," Harry began, his tone businesslike. "You handled the situation fine without me, but I still need to discuss the details of our living arrangements—"

He stopped mid-sentence as he looked at my face.

My knees gave out beneath me, and before I could stop myself, I stumbled forward, collapsing straight into his chest.

---

I woke up to a splitting headache, the sharp glare of the ceiling lights burning against my eyelids.

As my vision slowly focused, I gasped softly. I was clinging to Harry like a terrified koala, my arms wrapped tightly around his arm, my face buried right against the lapel of his tailored jacket.

"Awake finally?" Harry’s voice was smooth, completely untroubled by my weight.

I hastily unclasped my fingers, sitting up on the couch and smoothing down my clothes. "Have you... been sitting like this the entire time?"

"Twenty-seven minutes, precisely," he replied, casually pulling down his sleeve and adjusting his cufflinks.

"Why didn't you push me off or take me to a hospital?" I asked, my face flushing with embarrassment.

"I attempted to take you to the clinic when your breathing got shallow," Harry said, meeting my gaze with a slight smirk. "But you turned entirely feral the moment I tried to lift you, gripping my arm like a lifeline. So I decided sitting here was the less chaotic option."

I swallowed hard. "Thank you... for staying. Did you see the circus in the lobby earlier with my stepmother's lawyer?"

Harry stood up, sweeping a cool glance over the room. "I caught the tail end of it. You put on quite a performance. I saw no reason to intervene when you had things under control."

Before I could digest his restraint, he delivered a crisp command, "Pack a bag."

I paused, looking up at him. "A bag? 

“Were you expecting us to live separately?"