On the other end of the line, Mrs. Knightley grew instantly ecstatic upon hearing those words.

"You’ve finally come to your senses? Good. As the daughter of a mere servant, you were never a match for the heir of the Knightley Group. Where are you now? Come over immediately so we can sign the agreement."

Clara stared at the address sent with such impatient haste and gave a self-deprecating smile before hailing a cab.

At the café, Mrs. Knightley interrogated her with a barrage of questions.

After Clara answered each one, the older woman’s expression softened into a look of satisfaction. She pulled out a legal document and pushed it across the table.

"Once this is in black and white, there is no turning back. After you sign, I will transfer half the amount to your account immediately. The remaining half will be sent the day you leave. You must guarantee that once you have this money, you will never appear before Night again for the rest of your life. Do you understand?"

Clara’s eyelashes fluttered as she looked at the astronomical figure listed as compensation on the agreement.

Of course, she wouldn't show up again.

In this life, or the next, she never wanted to see Night Knightley ever again.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she picked up the pen and signed her name with crisp, decisive strokes.

Only then did Mrs. Knightley truly relax. She tucked the agreement away and stood up, offering one final instruction.

"I’m giving you exactly two weeks. Whether you change your identity or go abroad is up to you, but you must find a way to ensure Night never lays eyes on you again."

"I understand, Mrs. Knightley. You have my word."

After watching Mrs. Knightley depart, Clara returned home.

Making it so that Night could never find her was actually quite simple.

The Knightley family had deep roots in the military and politics; their background was so sensitive that three generations of the family were restricted from traveling abroad.

As long as she immigrated, Night would never be able to reach her.

After spending half the night researching foreign immigration policies, she finally decided on Australia.

Having made her decision, Clara picked up her phone to check the time, only to see a new notification for her social media feed.

She clicked it, and a grid of nine photos posted by Selene Young appeared.

The top three were selfies of Selene clutching red roses; the center row featured three marriage certificates; the bottom row showed three photos of ten fingers tightly intertwined.

Clara knew that since Night wanted to keep the marriage a secret, he would never have allowed Selene to post this publicly.

And yet, Selene had posted it anyway—specifically setting the privacy so that only Clara could see it, a blatant act of provocation.

Clara, playing her part, calmly gave the post a "like."

Just as she exited the app, a message from Night popped up.

"Clara, I’m going on a business trip. I won't be back for a few days."

She replied with a simple "Okay" and put her phone down to wash up.

The next morning, Clara woke up early to handle her immigration paperwork.

Because she was pressed for time, she applied through the expedited channel. She only breathed a sigh of relief when the clerk promised the process would be completed within fifteen days.

Back in the car, she checked her feed again and saw another post from Selene.

This time, half of Night’s silhouette was visible. The two were holding hands, touring a new house, eventually settling on a villa in Silver Creek Bay.

Just like the day before, Clara gave the post a "like."

On the third day, Clara went to her office and handed in her resignation.

After carrying her belongings home, she saw on her feed that Selene was already trying on wedding dresses, the diamond ring on her ring finger sparkling brilliantly.

As usual, Clara tapped the heart icon to like the post, then buried herself under her blankets.

On the fourth day, she woke up to a fresh update on her feed.

This time, the camera was focused on the wedding portraits hanging in the bridal suite.

Clara stared at them for a long time before snapping back to reality.

She liked the post as usual, then put on her makeup and went out to have a farewell dinner with a few close friends.

By evening, she returned with several large boxes and began throwing away everything related to Night Knightley.

The gifts he had given her over the years, the matching couple’s toothbrushes and mugs, the photos they had taken together…

Nothing was spared. Everything went straight into the trash.

By the time she finished, it was late at night.

Just as she was about to turn off the lights and rest, Night suddenly returned.

He froze the moment he saw the empty room, his brow furrowing deeply.

"Why are there so many things missing from the house?"

"I didn't like them anymore, so I threw them out. I'll buy new ones later."

Night nodded and tossed his coat onto the sofa, but his gaze was drawn to the boxes nearby.

"You resigned?"

He paused, then noticed the items on the coffee table.

"Why did you suddenly take out your household registration book?"

"I was too tired and wanted to rest for a while, so I quit. As for the registration book, I have some paperwork to handle."

Clara explained everything calmly while tucking the items back into her bag.

Seeing her so composed, Night didn't give it a second thought. He pulled her into his arms, his voice tender. "I’ve been busy lately and haven't had time for you. Your birthday is in a couple of days. How about I take you to the auction house tomorrow to pick out a few gifts?"

Clara did not refuse.

The following day, as the two took their seats in the grand hall, Clara spotted Selene.

Selene walked over with an air of arrogance and took the seat directly next to Night.

Throughout the evening, Night kept his head turned toward Clara, talking only to her without glancing at the woman beside him once.

When the auction ended, he didn't linger, taking Clara’s hand as they headed downstairs.

Before leaving for home, Clara stepped into the restroom.

When she came out, she saw Selene cornered by a group of men in the stairwell, who were mocking her mercilessly.

"Well, if it isn't the great Miss Young? You abandoned Night Knightley after he saved you—talk about biting the hand that feeds you. Seeing you in this state now... would you call that karma?"

"I heard your father is trying to marry you off to some old man with one foot in the grave. You’re still quite a beauty; why don't you come with us instead? We’d certainly know how to appreciate—"

The rest of the sentence was cut short.

Night had come down from upstairs, his face a mask of absolute fury. He delivered a brutal kick to the group of dissolute playboys.