Become the Wife of A CEO

“I hear you.” Clara’s tone was cold, “But I don’t want to talk to you.”

Clara’s cold attitude stung Darren, and his hand squeezing Clara’s wrist involuntarily hardened.

“You’re still mad about the party?” Darren barely held himself together, “I’m sorry about that. Also, I didn’t know about the photos; you have to believe me. I’m not that mean.”

Clara didn’t want to pay any attention to Darren, but when she heard him say, “You have to trust me”, she couldn’t help but hold the sarcasm in her eyes, “Trust you? Believe you in what? That you hate me so much that you want to ruin my reputation? Or you’ve gone to all that trouble just to torture me?”

Darren’s face turned pale, and his tone took on a bit of anger, “Clara, you’ve known me for so long, don’t you know what kind of person I am? Even if I hated you, I wouldn’t do something that despicable!”

Darren’s words caused the sarcastic curve of Clara’s mouth to increase.

Apart from the sarcasm, her smile was a little more miserable and helpless this time, “Darren, you want me to trust you, but have you ever given me your trust?”

Darren hadn’t expected that from Clara and was stunned.

“We’ve known each other for so long, been together for three whole years, don’t you know what kind of person I am?” Clara took his tone and said slowly; her eyes couldn’t help but reddened, “But back then, a few pictures, gossip from others, made you completely forget what kind of person I was; you always preferred to believe everything others said, not me.”

Darren’s heart shook.

What did Clara mean by this?

Was she rebuking him for not trusting her back then?

“That’s not even close to the same thing!” Darren felt irritated for no reason, “Fine, even if I misunderstood you two years ago, can you explain how you, an ordinary little journalist, could have married my uncle? Isn’t this the best evidence that you went to great lengths to join a wealthy family? And don’t think I didn’t see your submissiveness last time in front of Mr. Muller. It’s just that I didn’t want to tell my uncle. I’m afraid he doesn’t even know what kind of a woman you are out there!”

Looking at Darren in front of her, Clara suddenly felt that she had been kicked in the head by a donkey to say those words to him.

The woman in his heart was already a dirty slut, and she was still talking to him about trust?

What a fool.

What a fool she was.

When Clara didn’t say anything, Darren assumed she had nothing to say in return, and as his gaze inadvertently swept over the red mark on her neck that hadn’t faded completely, the beast in his chest seemed to reawaken.

“You say I should know you, but what you showed me in those three years we were together wasn’t even the real Clara, was it!” Darren growled low, “The Clara I knew would blush at the thought of holding hands, but the real you? Clara, you’re still strutting around with that obvious mark on your neck. Do you have any shame?”

Darren knew his words were harsh, and if they were before, he wouldn’t have believed he could say something so snarky.

But when it came to Clara, he was as if being possessed and had become entirely unlike himself.

Clara looked at Darren in front of her, not angry at his insults, nor did she retort, only her eyes grew colder.

“Darren,” she suddenly spoke in a low voice, soft but colder, “if one day you find out that everything is a figment of your imagination. When that happens, even if you try to apologise to me, I will never forgive you.”

With those words, Clara shook off Darren’s hand without glancing at him and turned to leave.

It was only after she had walked outside the pantry that Clara felt herself out of breath, and she gasped for air so drastically that her lungs seemed to be going to explode.

At that moment, her phone suddenly rang.

Clara looked at her phone, and the moment she saw the name displayed on the screen, she was stunned; the next second, she picked it up as if she had grabbed a lifeline.

“Horace…” she said quickly before the person on the phone could even speak.

Horace’s low voice on the other end of the line rang out, “Clara, where are you?”

“I’m at the office.” Clara tried to keep herself calm as she replied, “I’m working late; I texted you earlier and told you that you didn’t have to wait for me for dinner.”

“I know.” Horace’s voice was as cold and bland as ever, but at this point, Clara felt as if it was calming her down, “Come down.”

“Down?” Clara stared, “Down where?”

“Downstairs, I’m downstairs from your office.”

Lost in thought for a moment, Clara ignored the high heels on her feet and quickly ran towards the lift.

In the lift, her heart pounded as she watched the numbers on the lift screen, and she mentally chanted –NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

Hurry up, hurry up…

For the first time, she suddenly wanted to see Horace quickly.

Ding.

The lift finally stopped on the ground floor, and Clara couldn’t wait to get out.

Running to the door, she saw the familiar black Bentley.

At this moment, she couldn’t care less if anyone from the office saw her; she just put her feet up, straightened her messy clothes and hair, and walked quickly.

Inside the car, Horace caught a glimpse of Clara’s movements through the window, and his dark eyes flickered with a smile as he quickly opened the door.

Clara got into the car.

“What brings you here?” She looked at the man in front of her, looking increasingly calm and handsome in a simple navy jumper.

“To bring you dinner,” Horace said lightly, handing the lunchbox in his hand to Clara.

Clara froze and opened the lunchbox to see Martha’s exquisite cooking inside.

In disbelief, Clara looked up at Horace, “You came to our office just to bring me food?”

Perhaps Clara’s eyes were too puzzled. Horace averted his eyes a little unnaturally and coughed lightly, “No, I went to a meeting at the office and brought it for you on my way.”

Clara couldn’t help but snort out a laugh.

Even a shrewd person like Horace could say the wrong thing at times.

Her company was in the west, their home was in the east, and Horace’s company was in the middle, so there was no such thing as “stopping by”.

But Clara knew that Horace was thin-skinned, so she didn’t say anything; she just put the lunchbox in her arms and said softly, “Horace, thank you.”

Horace looked at her again, her eyes shining like a sea of stars in the dimly lit carriage.

“You’re welcome.” He whispered a little more softness in his tone than he was aware of, “Take it back to your office. It’s not good to leave your seat for too long, is it?”

Clara nodded and opened the car door to get out.

But the moment she was about to get out of the car, she suddenly felt a little reluctant.

She suddenly turned her head to Horace and looked at him.

When Horace saw Clara’s hesitation, he frowned slightly, “What’s wrong?”

Looking at the handsome man in front of her, Clara felt a softness in her heart and spoke softly, almost without thinking, “Horace, can I hug you?”