Female Novel
Chapter 228
As Clara walked away from the doorway, the sight of May's torn poster caused an unexpected pangin her heart. She stood before the ruined poster, gazing at the poised and graceful May, and a waveof guilt washed over her.
She hadn't intended to tarnish May's reputation in her quest to deal with Heidi.
May, an artist renowned in her day, was the epitome of gentleness and humility, sophisticated andmodest. How could she have birthed a daughter as sly and cruel as Heidi?
With care, Clara pieced the shredded poster back together, looking into May's smiling eyes as shewhispered a soft, "I'm sorry." Then she turned and walked away.
She hadn't gotten far when her cell phone began to ring. It was a call from Ian. As soon as sheanswered, a voice tinged with a touch of vulnerability came through. "Attorney Clara, did you forgetthere's a man waiting for you to come home for dinner?"
His voice was raspy and faintly whiny, sending a shiver down Clara's spine. She had never noticedthis delicate side of Ian before.
Hesitating, she replied, "I've got plans tonight, so I won't make it. You'll have to eat alone."
She was about to hang up when Ian's voice, now firm, called out to her. "Clara, I took a tumbledown the stairs earlier and aggravated my wound. It's bleeding a bit. Could you come over and helpme bandage it up again?"
His tone was earnest, soothing. There was no hint of guile to be heard.novelbin
Clara's voice immediately tightened with concern. "Didn't I tell you to stay in bed? Why won't youlisten?"
"I'm sorry, Clara. I just got worried when you didn't come home, so I thought I'd come down to meetyou."
"Wait for me. I'll be right there."
After hanging up, a smug smile crossed Ian's face. Roger's advice was spot on. Playing theweakling certainly had its uses.
While hospitalized, his feigned frailty kept Clara by his side every night, speaking softly to him.
Once discharged, he played the pitiable card that his family had deserted him, and there was noone to look after him, convincing Clara to move back in. Sure, she took the guest room, but at leastshe was within sight every evening.
Ian glanced at the wound on his belly and clenched his teeth. He made his way to the top of thestairs, and deliberately threw himself down. This was the price for keeping his girl close.
When Clara arrived, Ian was lying weakly on the couch, fresh blood seeping from his wound, hisarm and thigh sporting several bruises.
Clara gritted her teeth in anger. "Ian, what are you doing?"
But Ian shook his head with sincerity. "Clara, it wasn't on purpose. I was just too worried about youand wanted to wait for you downstairs. Just seeing the headlights meant you were back, and I couldrest easy."
He was telling the truth. Since leaving the hospital, he had spent every evening waiting by thewindow. He was always waiting for that beam of light and that familiar figure to approach. It washappiness he'd never known before.
Had Clara also awaited his return like this? No wonder she'd always thrown herself into his arms themoment he arrived. Now, he understood the joy of waiting for someone.
Back then, he'd been so oblivious to it.
Hearing the honesty in his voice, Clara couldn't bring herself to scold him any longer. She fetchedthe first aid kit and started to re-dress his wounds.
Just then, Clara's phone rang with an unknown number. Assuming it was a client, she answeredwithout hesitation.
A cold male voice came through. "Clara, it's Paolo. We need to talk."