And he knew absolutely nothing about any of it!

A delayed pain sank deep into his marrow, like a poisonous vine binding his entire body.

Even Marcus didn't know how frightening he looked right now.

Even if she had left, why wasn't she replying to messages? Why wasn't she answering the phone?

Wasn't Clara the person who relied on him most?

He couldn't endure this unease and anxiety; he got up to leave.

The butler saw that it was 3:00 AM outside, with a raging storm in progress.

He hurriedly chased after him, carefully choosing his words to persuade him: "Sir, sir, Madam might just be acting on a temporary impulse; perhaps in a couple of days when her anger fades, she will return..."

"Get out of the way!"

Marcus’s voice was icy; he acted as if he had lost his mind, refusing to let anyone stand in his way.

He was desperately trying to prove that she wouldn't leave.

Chapter 10

Marcus’s eyes were bloodshot.

The butler didn't dare to stop him again.

He couldn't speak, and he didn't dare to report this to the elder of the Meng family, so he could only watch helplessly as Marcus left the house.

A sudden storm in the deep night.

Marcus quickly pulled the car door open, floored the accelerator, and drove at top speed toward the Blue Universe Airport.

Veins bulged on the back of his hand as he gripped the steering wheel.

Marcus understood better than anyone how a stubborn temper hid beneath Clara’s seemingly weak exterior.

When the first floral art competition was held in A City.

To seek inspiration for her creation, Clara had gone alone to the Wild Mountain Temple in the suburbs, where she stayed for three full days.

Marcus couldn't reach her, and when he took people to look for her, they couldn't find her; he was almost driven mad by worry and anxiety.

Yet, Clara returned on her own, carrying a head of wildflowers.

She didn't even eat; she dove into her workshop and created for ten full hours.

No matter how Marcus tried to persuade her, she ignored him.

Having no choice, he had to call a family doctor to wait for her to come out.

When she finally walked out of the room, she offered Marcus a look of pure satisfaction, then immediately collapsed into sleep.

No matter how angry Marcus was inside, he could only help her anxiously and take her for treatment.

No one knew how tightly his heart had clenched when he saw Clara faint.

It was during that specific time that Clara created the floral art piece "Moon and Dew," which stunned the entire city.

To this day, this first-place work is still placed in the entrance hall of the competition venue for all to admire.

From then on, Marcus determined to take even more careful care of Clara.

She was both foolish and stubborn; if he didn't watch her constantly, how could he ensure she could take care of herself?

He had even sacrificed his own marriage to guard Clara's side for a lifetime; how could she just leave like this?!

Countless complex emotions disrupted his judgment; there was only one thought in his heart, and that was to reach the airport as soon as possible.

Although reason told him that even if he arrived a few hours late, Clara might have already boarded and left.

But Marcus still held a glimmer of hope: what if she was just throwing a tantrum at the airport, waiting for him to pick her up and bring her home?

"Beep, beep, beep."

Marcus’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately answered the call: "Where did you go?"

Chloe, on the other end of the phone, was stunned for a moment, then asked with confusion.

"I'm at home, Marcus?"

Marcus suddenly fell silent; the small flicker of joy that had just risen in his heart instantly extinguished.

It was replaced by an indescribable disappointment.

Marcus suddenly felt a sense of bewilderment, not even hearing what Chloe was continuing to say on the other end.

Was he disappointed?

Disappointed that the caller was not Clara?

Marcus reached out and forcefully combed through his hair, which had grown long enough to cover his brows, while the voice on the other end continued to sound.

He felt that Chloe's constant talking on the phone was making him feel incredibly irritated.

"…Marcus, why are you ignoring me?"

Chloe pretended to be angry, triumphantly waiting for the man to be flustered as usual, then coaxing her.

"I have something to do; go find Julian first."

After saying those words, Marcus hung up the phone without hesitation.

He even forgot that chasing after Chloe to appease her was what he did most often.

Chloe was so angry her whole body trembled, yet she was also somewhat frightened by Marcus’s change.

She forcefully threw her phone aside, deciding to ignore Marcus for the time being.

Every time she did this, Marcus would immediately return to coax her, seeking her forgiveness.

However, on the other side, Marcus had forgotten to care about Chloe's feelings.

He repeatedly opened Clara’s chat window, but there was never a reply on the screen.

It was as if she had truly abandoned him.

Chapter 11

Marcus still suppressed his emotions, pushing down his restlessness and anxiety as he rushed toward the airport.

There were still ten kilometers left to go.

The vehicles in front suddenly decelerated, forcing him to slow down as well.

He initially thought it was just a temporary bottleneck, but he soon found himself stuck dead in his tracks.

Already agitated, Marcus grew even more distracted and annoyed.

He loosened his tie, checking the time incessantly.

The rain intensified, the water hitting the windshield with chaotic, rhythmic thuds.

Time ticked by, and the car didn't budge for over ten minutes.

Marcus picked up his phone to call for help.

"Send people to the airport immediately to search. Notify me as soon as you find Weiwei's flight."

After hanging up, he slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

He rolled down the window to listen to the rain; perhaps it was because there had been too many things happening lately that an old nicotine craving he had long forgotten now resurfaced.

He hadn't smoked in seven years.

In order to get close to Clara back then, he had quit smoking, rarely drank, and worked hard to pretend to be the perfect lover.

Marcus exhaled a breath of stale air, took out a cigarette pack from the cabinet from seven years ago, put one in his mouth, and prepared to light it.

Suddenly, his motion halted.

It was as if he were expecting someone to appear and stop him from smoking.

He smiled self-deprecatingly, struck a light, and took a deep drag.

The bitter taste of smoke quickly filled his nasal cavity. Amidst the swirling smoke, his cold, sharp eyes were half-hidden.

The torrential rain kept wetting the car window, soaking half of his shoulder.

All sorts of complex emotions surged in his chest.

He had never thought Clara would find out, and he hadn't intended for her to know.

But he never expected that she could hear.

So, on that day at the bar, had she heard everything?

The image of Clara in tears surfaced before his eyes; she seemed so incredibly disappointed...

Marcus remained motionless for a long time, only coming to his senses when his fingertips were burned by the cigarette.

He let out a harsh sound of annoyance, his eyes clouded with gloom.

Even if all of this was his fault, he would not allow Clara to leave him.

Don't even think about it!

"Hey, driver, why is there a traffic jam ahead?"

Someone leaned out to ask, and a person walking back from the front sighed.

"There’s been a car accident. A taxi flipped over on the road, blocking the entire lane."

Marcus stopped rolling up the window.

A nameless fear crept up his spine.

Although he didn't want to think about it, he was terrified that the one involved might be her.

The uneasy speculation was like a carrion vulture circling in the sky, its cold gaze fixed upon him.

An unspeakable sense of dread spread desperately, overwhelming him like a tidal wave.

A terrifying feeling of suffocation choked off his words; as the "Prince of the Beijing Circle," he suddenly lacked the courage to ask further.

His breathing became rapid, and his gaze involuntarily turned to the time.

Reason told him that the car she took couldn't have been involved in an accident at this time.

But his thoughts ran wild uncontrollably.

Could it be because she had some kind of accident that she didn't answer his calls?

He dialed her number again, murmuring to himself.

"Pick up the phone, Weiwei, please, pick up the phone..."

The sounds of conversation outside the window and the rain intertwined, hazy and dreamlike.

"I heard it’s very serious over there? That road leads to the airport; it's been blocked for several hours!"