Chapter 33: Alistair’s Rage

Clara had just finished an intense practice session. The sweat on her temples hadn't even dried yet as she prepared to head to the dressing room to change.

She was the only one left in the studio. The lights spilled across the floor, casting a long, slender shadow of her figure.

She walked toward her locker, but just as she opened the door, she heard a faint set of footsteps behind her.

Before she could turn around, a bucket of ice-cold water was poured over her head, instantly drenching her from top to bottom.

Clara shuddered violently. Water droplets slid from her hair and down her cheeks; her practice wear clung to her skin, piercingly cold.

"Hahaha! Look at her! What a pathetic mess!" Lin Yao’s voice came from behind, laced with undisguised mockery.

Clara turned around to see Lin Yao and two other dancers standing not far away, holding empty buckets and wearing triumphant smirks.

Her fingers trembled slightly, but she maintained her composure. "Lin Yao, what is the meaning of this?"

Lin Yao sneered and took a step forward, her tone sharp. "Meaning? Clara, did you think that just because you have Master Vance’s favor, you could do whatever you want in this troupe? I’m telling you, this isn't your personal playground!"

Clara bit her lip, her voice calm but carrying a trace of ice. "Lin Yao, I never intended to steal your spotlight. If you have a problem with me, say it to my face. There’s no need for these low-life tactics."

Enraged by her attitude, Lin Yao suddenly gave her a hard shove. "Stop acting so high and mighty! Who do you think you are? Just a pretty face who climbed her way up through connections!"

Clara was pushed back several steps, her back hitting the lockers with a dull thud.

She frowned and was about to speak when—

click

—the lights in the studio suddenly went out, plunging everything into total darkness.

"What’s going on?" Clara asked instinctively, a hint of panic in her voice.

Lin Yao’s laughter echoed in the dark, full of smug satisfaction. "Don't you love playing the victim, Clara? Well, stay here and enjoy yourself! We’ve cut the power. No one is coming to turn the lights back on tonight."

Clara curled up in the corner of the studio, her drenched practice clothes clinging to her body as icy water dripped from her hair onto the floor.

The lights had long been turned off by Lin Yao and the others. The room was pitch black, with only a sliver of moonlight from the window barely outlining her silhouette.

Her fingers lightly toyed with her powered-off phone, a faint, unreadable smile curving her lips.

She knew that if Julian couldn't find her, he would get anxious, and his first reaction would be to go to Alistair Vance.

Given Alistair’s temperament, if he saw her in this pathetic state, he would likely explode with rage.

Thinking of this, a flash of cunning lit her eyes.

She closed her eyes gently and rested her head against the wall, letting the chill slowly seep into her skin.

In her mind, she was already calculating exactly how to play the victim to make Alistair lose control completely.

Time ticked by. The studio was so quiet she could only hear her own breathing.

Suddenly, a frantic set of footsteps echoed from outside, followed by the sound of a key sliding into the lock.

"Clara!" Alistair’s low, anxious voice boomed from outside the door.

Clara immediately adjusted her expression, burying her head low. Her shoulders began to tremble slightly, as if she were sobbing silently.

The moment the door was flung open, a harsh light from the corridor flooded in. Alistair’s tall figure appeared in the doorway.

His gaze swept the room and finally locked onto the small, huddled figure in the corner.

Her hair was matted to her cheeks, her clothes were soaked with water, and she looked utterly devastated.

"Clara!"

His voice was thick with suppressed fury. He strode to her and knelt down, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but he hesitated just before making contact.

Clara looked up, her eyes rimmed with red, her voice trembling. "Master Vance... why are you here?"

Alistair’s brow was furrowed tight, his voice low and freezing. "Julian couldn't find you and called me. Why are you here? Who did this?"

Clara lowered her head, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible. "I... I accidentally got my clothes wet, and my phone died, so..."

"Accidentally?" Alistair’s voice rose sharply, fueled by blatant anger. "Clara, do you think I’m blind? This was clearly done on purpose!"

Clara bit her lip and didn't answer. She only lowered her head further, her shoulders shaking as if she were fighting back a tidal wave of emotion.

Watching her like this, the fires of Alistair’s rage burned even hotter.

He stood up abruptly, his voice as cold as ice. "Who was it? Lin Yao? Or someone else?"

Clara still said nothing, merely shaking her head gently. Her voice was tinged with a sob. "Master Vance, please don't ask... I don't want to make a scene."

Alistair let out a cold laugh, his tone carrying an irresistible authority. "Don't want to make a scene? Clara, you are the Eldest Miss of the Jian family. There is no reason for you to suffer in a place like this. If they dared to lay a hand on you, they have to face the consequences."

Without another word, he ripped off his suit jacket and draped it over her, then swept her up into a bridal carry.

Clara instinctively grabbed his collar, her voice laced with a hint of panic. "Master Vance, put me down... I can walk."

Alistair looked down at her, his voice low and firm. "Don't move. I’m taking you back."

Clara stopped struggling and let him carry her out of the studio.

Her head rested against his chest, and she could clearly hear the powerful thrum of his heartbeat.

A triumphant smile flickered at the corner of her mouth, but it was quickly masked by her pitiful facade.

Alistair carried her all the way to the parking lot, placed her gently in the passenger seat, and then got behind the wheel to start the car.

The interior was silent, save for the gentle hum of the heater.

After a while, Alistair spoke up. "Clara, there’s no need to suppress yourself. If you don't want to stay in that troupe, I can arrange for you to go somewhere else."

Clara shook her head, her voice soft but resolute. "Master Vance, I love dancing. I don't want to give it up because of things like this."

Alistair glanced at her, a complex emotion in his eyes. "You are always so stubborn."

Clara didn't reply. She leaned her head against the window, watching the night scenery fly past.

Her fingers lightly stroked the suit jacket draped over her; it still carried the faint, woody scent of his cologne.

The car soon pulled up beneath Clara’s apartment.

Alistair got out, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door, reaching out to carry her again.

Clara gently pushed his hand away, her voice sounding exhausted. "Master Vance, I can walk."

Alistair didn't force the issue. He simply stood by her side, accompanying her into the elevator.

Inside the elevator, neither of them spoke. The atmosphere was heavy and stifling.

At the door of her apartment, Clara took out her keys and opened the door. She turned to Alistair. "Master Vance, thank you for bringing me back. It’s late; you should go home and rest too."

Alistair showed no intention of leaving. He stood in the doorway, his dark gaze fixed on her. "Clara, are you truly alright?"

Clara smiled, her voice light and soft. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired. Master Vance, you don't need to worry about me."

Alistair was silent for a moment before finally nodding. "Fine. Get some rest. If anything happens, call me anytime."

Clara nodded. After watching him leave, she closed the door.

Leaning against the door, she let out a long breath. The fragile expression vanished instantly, replaced by a cunning, satisfied smile.

She knew that tonight's events would leave Alistair profoundly dissatisfied with Lin Yao and the others.

Given his personality, he would never let those who bullied her off easily.

As for her, she only needed to sit back and reap the rewards.