Chapter 14: Clara Whitmore Declined Mason Reed's Invitation with a Practiced Smile

"Another time. I have plans today."

Clara Whitmore declined Mason Reed's invitation with a practiced smile.

Mason noticed the exquisite jewelry box in her hand and realized she genuinely had business to attend to.

He opened his mouth to say more, but Clara had already brushed past Grant Holloway without so much as a glance.

The air froze instantly.

Mason stole a glance at Grant's stormy expression and forced a conciliatory tone. "Grant, maybe she really didn't see you—"

Grant's face darkened further.

Mason wisely shut his mouth.

Internally, he marveled: Clara was playing hardball this time.

"Sir, would you like to continue browsing?"

Grant's icy gaze lifted. "Of course. Bring out your most expensive pieces."

If she didn't want them, plenty of others would.

* * *

The standalone villa on Waverly Heights blazed with light when Clara arrived, most guests already present.

Recognizing her, several attendees exchanged meaningful looks.

For six years, she'd attended countless such events as Grant's plus-one.

To these people, she wasn't "Clara Whitmore"—just "Grant Holloway's woman."

A sparrow who'd flown too high.

Recent rumors of their breakup, compounded by her solo appearance tonight, seemed to confirm the gossip.

Curious eyes glittered with schadenfreude.

Had the ambitious sparrow finally fallen back to earth?

Six wasted years, ending in abandonment.

What delicious drama.

Ignoring the stares, Clara located Sloane Bennett and handed her the jewelry.

"Stay for a while? The chef's internationally acclaimed."

"No. Drink less and get home safe."

Sloane didn't press—she knew these vultures too well. "I'll have my assistant drive you."

"Thanks." Clara turned to leave.

Whispers trailed her:

"Did you see? The audacity to show up!"

"Six years with Grant Holloway—she must've gotten something."

"That dress? My housekeeper wouldn't wear it."

"Heard she did his laundry and cooking—a glorified maid—"

"Miss Whitmore..." The assistant glanced at Clara worriedly.

Even he winced at the cruelty, yet she remained impassive.

"Let's go."

She'd anticipated this.

Leaving Grant meant weathering these storms.

The assistant nodded. "Wait here. I'll bring the car."

Alone in the courtyard, Clara watched the sunset.

A breeze carried away the evening's stifling heat.

"Clara Whitmore?"

A tipsy male voice startled her.

She turned to meet deep-set eyes. "Long time no see."

Damian Prescott swirled his wine glass, surprise flickering across his face. "Since graduation, actually. Grant had me thrown out before I could give you flowers."

Clara stiffened.

Back then, Damian and Grant's rivalry over her had bordered on obsession.

"I should go—"

Damian blocked her path. "He's kept you under lock and key for years. Seeing you was impossible."

Her smile cooled. "What do you want?"

"You chose him because he persisted. But did you ever consider his persistence was just about winning?"

The words struck like a blade.

Had the love she cherished been merely a game?

Noticing her pallor, Damian's expression softened.

He reached for her face. Clara stepped back.

"Boundaries, please."

He advanced. "Stop pretending. I know you two broke up."

"And?" She met his gaze.

"Be with me. I'll treat you better. Name anything—"

Six years later, she still took his breath away.

Clara laughed. "Jump from one cage to another? Mr. Prescott, it was nice seeing you, but let's go our separate ways."

She walked away without looking back.

Grant or Damian—she wanted neither.

And they'd do well to stay away.

Damian watched her retreating figure, eyes darkening.

"Clara," he murmured, "the wind never stops for the tree that seeks stillness. Do you really think you can escape?"

Nearby, someone observed the entire exchange.

Julian Cross admired the photo he'd just taken, smirking.

Connor Hayes emerged for air and caught the expression.

"What's so amusing?"

Julian waved his phone triumphantly.

Connor recognized the woman instantly. "Clara Whitmore?"

"With Damian Prescott," Julian added. "Already sent to Grant."

They remembered the two men's past rivalry—Grant's possessiveness had been terrifying.

Connor studied the image. "Damian reappearing right after the breakup... And her reaction—"

He paused. "This time, she seems serious."

Julian scoffed. "She'll crawl back. Watch."

"Then why send the photo?"

"For fun. Drama's entertaining."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "Don't play with fire."

"It's just a photo. How invested could Grant be in an ex?" Julian admired the composition. "Perfect framing—"

Connor observed the woman's elegant profile. "You're right. An ex getting attention is normal..."