Chapter 5

Clara's POV

The hospital room fell silent for a moment, then Lydia's even softer voice came through. "Frederic, you're so good. Clara worked so hard to save my life. Once I recover and we get married, I'll definitely treat her like family and repay her kindness properly."

At this point, Lydia paused and looked up at him.

Her tone took on a carefully probing quality. "But Frederic... spending all this time together with Clara... have you... developed feelings for her?"

The hospital room fell into brief dead silence.

Outside the door, I pressed against the cold tiled wall, nails digging deep into my palms, holding my breath waiting for that answer.

After a long while, Frederic's dismissive low laugh finally came from inside, as if reassuring her, or perhaps desperately convincing himself.

"What are you thinking? I only feel gratitude toward her, nothing else. The person I love has always been you, Lydia."

Hearing those words, I slowly released my clenched hands, letting the blood from my nail marks blur across my palm.

So in his heart, my life-saving devotion amounted to nothing more than "gratitude" and compensation money to buy off the relationship.

With that final glance, I saw Lydia smile provocatively in my direction.

I felt completely hollow inside. I stumbled back several steps, turned and ran toward the stairwell.

Three years of constant companionship. In his eyes, it was just deception and gratitude.

That evening at the villa, Frederic sat on the living room sofa flipping through a magazine.

I took off my coat, put on my most obedient act, changed into slippers and sat down beside him.

"Why do you look so pale?" He set down the magazine, habitually pinching my chin to examine me carefully, concern flickering in his eyes, concern he himself hadn't even noticed.

"I assisted in two back to back emergency resuscitations. Low blood sugar." I turned my head, turning away just enough to avoid his touch.

A flash of something passed through Frederic's eyes as his hand froze mid-air.

He didn't actually want to hurt me. It was just that Lydia's condition required bone marrow. He kept telling himself this was merely a transaction.

Just then, my phone in my pocket buzzed.

A strange text appeared on the lock screen: Hello Clara, your car in parking level B3, section D has been scratched by another vehicle. Please come handle it when you're free.

I turned around and said naturally to Frederic, "Property management just messaged. They said my car got slightly scratched in the garage. I'll go down to deal with it now."

The underground garage was dimly lit, permanently reeking of damp mold.

I'd just reached section D when several drunk, ill-intentioned men surrounded me from behind the pillars.

"This little beauty looks so pure. Why don't you keep us company tonight, sweetheart!"

The lead man leered, lunging forward to grab my collar and roughly tear at my clothes.

The crisp sound of buttons popping echoed sharply in the garage.

I stumbled backward in horror. In the dim light, I recognized the lead man's face.

It was the "fake patient's family member" who'd held the knife three years ago in the emergency room!

"Get away! Don't touch me!" I struggled desperately, but the disparity in strength was too great. Just as the man's rough hands were about to completely shred my clothing and push me into hell.

A massive crash!

Blinding headlights suddenly blazed over us, accompanied by the shriek of emergency brakes. Frederic jumped out of the car, eyes bloodshot.

"You're dead!"

Like a rabid beast, Frederic kicked the lead man flying several meters away.

He struck viciously, quickly beating the remaining thugs bloody and sending them scrambling away in terror.

After driving off the attackers, Frederic spun around abruptly, stripping off his suit jacket and wrapping my disheveled form tightly.

He crushed me forcefully into his embrace, his usually steady, strong arms now trembling violently.

"Clara... it's okay now, I'm here, don't be afraid..."

Frederic held me tightly, his lingering fear palpable, his voice betraying a deep panic and terror he himself hadn't recognized.

In that moment, he genuinely feared losing me, feared me getting hurt in the slightest.

Yet leaning against Frederic's warm chest, listening to his violent heartbeat, I only felt like I'd plunged into an icy abyss, cold to the bone.

I stared blankly at the direction those men had fled, recognizing the temporary actor who'd wielded the knife three years ago.