In that split second, the rejection he had planned to voice died in his throat. But seeing his conflicted expression, Selene’s tears began to fall instantly.

"Brother Night, am I making things difficult for you? It’s okay... if it’s too much trouble, I won't go today."

She had expected him to immediately lower his voice and coax her, but to her shock, the man before her looked as if a heavy burden had been lifted. He reached out and ruffled her hair.

"Today is indeed a bit special. You shouldn't come back with me."

Selene’s eyes widened in disbelief. A flash of hatred crossed her gaze, quickly masked by a look of piteous vulnerability as the tears she was about to stop began to roll down in large droplets again.

"Brother Night..."

Night, however, was clearly preoccupied. He didn't notice her reaction, but instead gently pushed her away and looked up at the ceiling light. "Is this the one that's broken?"

Seeing that he wasn't following her script, Selene bit her lip and gave a small, aggrieved "mm," sitting on the sofa in a huff and refusing to look at him.

Night’s mind wasn't on the light at all. Images from his dream earlier kept surfacing, and the growing panic in his heart was beginning to drown him. Sensing his abnormality, Selene crept back to his side and tugged on his sleeve, sobbing softly.

"Brother Night, what’s wrong?"

Night snapped back to reality, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead as his heart hammered against his ribs. He shook off Selene’s hand, pulled out his phone with a frown, and tried to call Clara.

To his mounting agitation, the call wouldn't go through. The repetitive busy tone made him increasingly frantic.

"Selene, I have to go. Something has come up. I’ll send someone to fix the light for you later."

Hurrying out that single sentence, he ignored Selene’s reaction, flung the door open, and strode away.

Watching the door slam shut, the poisonous resentment in Selene’s eyes reached a breaking point. She didn't need to guess—she knew he was rushing off to find that bitch, Clara Jiang.

She pulled out her phone and tapped out a line of text:

[Clara Jiang, how can you be so cheap? Do you really want to be a mistress in the shadows that badly? Why don't you just go die!]

The moment she hit send, she was met with a jarring red exclamation mark.

Clara had blocked her!

A bad premonition instantly gripped her heart. Instinctively, she moved quickly to delete all the provocative messages she had sent to Clara from her own phone.

Meanwhile, Night returned home and flung open the bedroom door, only to find the silhouette he longed for still missing.

"Where is Clara? Is she not back yet?"

For some reason, his voice was trembling with nerves.

"We haven't seen Miss Jiang since noon, sir."

"By the way, sir, when we were tidying the room just now, we noticed that Miss Jiang’s things seem to be gone."

Hearing this, a sudden chill washed over him, leaving him shivering.

"What do you mean?"

The servant looked up, her face filled with confusion. "Sir, didn't you take Miss Jiang’s things away? I saw that all her clothes were gone. I thought you were going to buy her a new wardrobe..."

——————————

His heart suffered a violent jolt. His eyes instinctively scanned the living room, searching for something. He looked as if he expected Clara to step out in front of him at any second.

"Clara..."

Night called her name over and over, but the panic in his heart only grew. An impossible thought began to take root.

Clara left him?

He refused to believe it!

"Clara, are you playing a prank on me? Come out now. This isn't funny at all."

"I was wrong this morning, but Selene and I are really just friends. Please, believe me."

Night spoke as he kept moving, his eyes darting around the villa, trying to find a hiding Clara. It was only then that he realized the house felt significantly emptier.

Their photos together, Clara’s personal belongings... they were all gone.

How could this be? How could everything be gone?

Night was on the verge of a breakdown. The dream from noon flashed through his mind again. Refusing to give up, he pulled out his phone and tried calling her again. But the other end only gave a series of long, hollow tones. His hand shaking, he tried to send her a message, only to see the glaring red exclamation mark.

Clara had blocked him!

His pupils dilated, his body trembling as a massive wave of terror swallowed him whole. He numbly scrolled through his phone, searching for her social media accounts, but they were all gone.

She had deactivated them. Every single account was gone!

His mind went blank; he racked his brain but couldn't think of where she could possibly go. Clara’s father had passed away when she was a child, and her mother had succumbed to a heavy illness two years ago.

He could only pin his hopes on her friends.

"Hello? This is Night Knightley. Is Clara with you?"

"Huh? What are you talking about? Why would Clara be here?"

This conversation repeated itself countless times. He even called his own friends, but no one knew where Clara had gone. The taste of extreme despair washed over him again and again.

He felt as though he had entered that nightmare where Clara didn't exist. His feelings for her had occupied every corner of his heart, and her sudden departure felt like having a piece of his heart carved out.

The pain of that living separation was enough to crush him.

"Clara, stop playing around, okay? I want to see you."

Night let out a gut-wrenching roar, his eyes turning a bloodshot red like a lion that had lost its mate.

But why? He questioned himself.

Every detail of his recent interactions with Clara played back in his mind. He suddenly remembered his blatant favoritism toward Selene and his neglect of Clara.

And then there was that day—the way her body had suddenly gone stiff when she heard him speaking Italian with his friend.

"Clara... did she ever learn Italian?"

The servant, seeing his frantic state, spoke up cautiously.

"Miss Jiang has been studying foreign languages for years, sir. She even hired a private tutor. Did you not know, sir?"

With a loudsnap, the tightly wound string in his mind finally broke.