The young woman before him took two steps back, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Who are you calling?"

The same expression, the same movements, and an almost identical face and voice—for a fleeting moment, Night truly believed the girl standing there was Clara Jiang. But the bewilderment in her eyes gave her away. She wasn't Clara. This girl was younger, barely twenty, looking more like Clara had during their university days.

Night suppressed the urge to pull her into his arms, his voice trembling as he asked, "What is your name?"

The girl seemed frightened and retreated further. "I’m sorry, I must have the wrong booth."

She turned to leave, but Night grabbed her arm. His hand was still shaking, and warm tears rolled down his cheeks, splashing onto the back of her hand. The girl hesitated and stopped. She fumbled through her cart, found a pack of tissues, and handed them to him.

"What... what’s wrong? Here, dry your eyes."

When Night looked up again, his gaze had regained its clarity, though he looked at her with a complex intensity. "Do you work here? Quit. Stay by my side, and I’ll pay you ten times your current salary."

To his surprise, the girl lunged back and violently shook off his hand. "What kind of person do you take me for!"

Seemingly livid, she didn't stay a second longer. She pushed her cart and hurried away, leaving Night standing there, staring blankly at her retreating figure.

She is too similar.

His heart hammered against his ribs. Reason told him not to involve this girl; if Clara ever found out, any chance of reconciliation would be gone. But a voice in his head kept echoing:

I won’t actually do anything to her. I’ll just look at her face. It’s fine. Once I find Clara, I’ll find a way to send this girl away so she never appears before Clara.

Eventually, that inner voice defeated his reason. He pulled out his phone and called the owner of the club. Within half an hour, the girl’s file was placed before him.

Her name was Giana Wen, a university student. Her only living relative had suddenly fallen seriously ill, forcing her to work at the club because the pay was high and the tips were good. She hadn't been there long and mostly handled serving drinks.

"Bring her here," Night said in a low voice. He stared at Giana’s photo, his eyes glazed as if he were looking through her at someone else.

Soon, the girl was standing before him again. She looked at him timidly—a look of cautious fear that the Clara Jiang he knew would never have shown.

"Don't look at me like that. I’m not going to eat you," Night said, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. "Stay with me. I will cover all of your mother’s medical expenses. The only condition is that your clothes and appearance must follow my instructions."

Giana seemed panicked and lost. When she tried to leave, the bodyguards blocked her path. She had no choice but to look up at the man standing over her. "What do I need to do?"

Gazing at the face that was eighty percent similar to his love, Night lost himself again. "You don't need to do anything. Just stay with me. I will solve all your problems; you just need to do as I say."

"And the first thing is..." He whispered, "Promise me, don't ever leave me again, Clara."

——————————

After taking Giana Wen under his wing, Night seemed to mention Clara Jiang less and less. He even indulged Giana’s growing arrogance, allowing her to post snippets of their daily life online. The narrative of a "Domineering CEO saving a girl from a nightclub" quickly went viral.

Her latest update featured a lavish birthday banquet Night had meticulously prepared for her, ending with a public proposal. The video exploded in popularity, and within just two months, her account had amassed tens of millions of followers. At the end of the video, a wedding was announced for two weeks later, with a promise of a full live stream.

Time flew by, and the two weeks passed in a flash. Night did not let the short notice compromise the scale of the wedding. The venue was breathtakingly luxurious, and numerous media outlets were invited to stream the event simultaneously. The wedding trended at the very top of social media rankings.

At noon, the ceremony officially began. Everything proceeded according to the rehearsal until the officiant asked the solemn question: "Mr. Night Knightley, do you take this woman to be your wedded wife? To have and to hold, in poverty or wealth, in sickness and in health, to stay by her side forever?"

A smile played on Night’s lips, but his voice was as cold as ice. "I do not."

Giana’s eyes widened in disbelief. She lunged forward and grabbed his hand. "Night... are you joking?"

Night violently shoved her hand away. As Giana stumbled and fell to the ground due to her high heels, he looked down at her with cold disdain.

"What makes you think a creature like you is worthy of marrying me? Don't think I don't know who sent you."

Giana was struck speechless. Night remained eerily calm and gestured for the live cameras to keep rolling. The stream was currently exploding with millions of viewers; the chat was a blur of exclamation marks and question marks.

"This woman was sent by a friend—or rather, a rival—who found her specifically because she looked like my love," Night addressed the camera. "I pretended to fall for it, secretly encouraging her to build her social media presence and boosting her traffic just for today’s broadcast."

"Clara Jiang, I truly know I was wrong. In this lifetime, you are the only wife I will ever have."

"No matter where you are or what you are doing, I will find you. I promise."

"You promised me you would stay by my side forever."

"To everyone watching: if anyone knows where Clara Jiang is and can provide information, I will reward you handsomely. Thank you."

Behind him, the giant screen that had been playing a montage of him and Giana suddenly flickered and changed to a photo of Clara Jiang.

The next second, the live stream was cut off. Mrs. Knightley stood below the stage, her face ashen, as she lowered her phone. She was the one who ordered the feed killed. Looking at the man on stage whose eyes held a hint of madness, she felt only profound disappointment.

As the farce ended, Giana was forcibly dragged away. Night was ushered into a car by his friends.

"Night, was this really necessary? There are plenty of ways to find Clara. You’ve just given your mother a heart attack."

Night leaned back in the rear seat, looking at the multiple trending topics about him on his phone. A smile finally touched his face—a look he hadn't worn in a long time.

"Only this way can I reach the most people. The internet will help me find her. As long as she comes back, I don't care about anything else."