Chapter 55: Clara Whitmore Carefully Carried the Bag of Books into Her Bedroom

Clara Whitmore carefully carried the bag of books into her bedroom.

She wiped each volume clean before arranging them neatly on the shelf.

Sweat dampened the back of her shirt.

The shower stopped running.

Wrapped in a towel, she noticed the ointment on the coffee table.

The mint-scented balm brought cool relief as she applied it to her bruises.

The clock struck ten.

Though she'd planned to read, a throbbing pain pulsed at her temples.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she collapsed onto the bed in deep slumber.

At three AM, nightmares struck.

Grant Holloway's twisted face loomed larger in her dreams.

She struggled desperately but couldn't escape his icy grip.

"No!"

Clara jolted upright, her pajamas soaked with sweat.

With trembling hands, she grabbed her phone and dialed Sloane Bennett.

The endless ringing yielded no answer.

Light seeped through the curtains from the neighboring balcony.

After much hesitation, she texted Elias Mercer:

"Are you awake?"

Her phone screen flickered.

Just as she was about to give up, a reply appeared:

"Yeah."

Another message followed immediately:

"Look outside."

Clara drew back the curtains.

A sky full of stars glittered like diamonds against the night.

Her phone vibrated repeatedly.

"See that angular constellation? That's Gemini."

"In Greek myths, one twin brought disaster while the other protected humanity."

"The younger brother sacrificed himself to redeem the elder."

Clara traced the star patterns on her screen.

Ten minutes later, a final message arrived:

"Finding such a rare constellation must have cheered you up?"

A smile tugged at her lips.

"Thank you. I feel better now."

In his study, Elias chuckled at her reply.

As he returned to work, another message popped up:

"I enjoyed stargazing with you. Goodnight."

Meanwhile, lights blazed in the Holloway mansion.

Grant glared at the empty bookshelf, his mind replaying Clara leaning against Elias.

A glass shattered against the wall.

His phone chimed repeatedly with messages from Paige Lawson:

"Miss you, Grant."

"Date next week?"

"Can I come over now?"

Grant swiped away the notifications irritably.

Moonlight revealed two balconies separated by careful distance.

One bathed in starlight, the other simmering with dark energy.