Chapter 4

He blinked in surprise, then let out a relieved, stunning smile. He reached out and gently ruffled my hair.

I didn't flinch.

I let him do it.

I wanted him to feel like everything was going exactly according to his script.

I wanted him to believe that Clara was still that same brainless, gullible girl who was so desperate to marry her savior.

As his fingers brushed through my hair, I was busy calculating a financial ledger in my head.

In our past life, when he drained my family's company, he took away nearly fifty million dollars.

My dad’s hard work of over twenty years was completely devoured by him.

My mother's inheritance, my father’s life savings, and all the assets under my name—completely wiped out.

This life, I was going to take it all back, with heavy interest.

Over the next week, I visited the hospital every single day without fail.

Julian recovered incredibly fast. In less than two weeks, his stitches were removed, and the doctor said he could be discharged after a few more days of observation.

The evening before his discharge, he had one of the nurses help him book a reservation at an upscale Italian restaurant near my university, claiming he wanted to treat me to a nice dinner to thank me for my care.

Throughout the dinner, his eyes never left my face.

He cut my steak, poured my water, and asked about my likes and dislikes, claiming he wanted to memorize every single detail about me.

"Clara, there's something I need to ask you."

"What is it?"

"I want to marry you."

The proposal came a few days earlier than I had anticipated.

My fork paused mid-air. I looked up at him, wide-eyed.

"What did you say?" I whispered, playing the part of a stunned lover.

"I said, I want to marry you."

He repeated it, his tone even more solemn as he reached across the table to grasp my hand.

"Clara, I know we're still young, but I can't wait anymore. I want you by my side for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"

"Yes... yes, I will!"

Tears spilled over my eyelashes, rolling down my cheeks.

"Julian, of course I’ll marry you."

He smiled warmly, leaning across the table to gently wipe my tears with his thumb. His touch was incredibly soft.

But my tears weren't from joy. They were for the Clara of my past life.

That twenty-year-old girl, sitting at this exact same table, hearing these exact same words, crying the exact same tears.

She had been so genuinely happy, believing she was the luckiest girl in the world, thinking this man would cherish her forever.

She had no idea she was signing her own death warrant.

It was almost eleven when Julian drove me home.

The streetlights near our estate cast a long, stretched shadow of his figure as he stood by the gates, waving goodbye as I walked inside.

When I entered the house, my parents were still awake.

My dad was sitting on the sofa reading the financial times, and my mom was folding laundry by the patio.

I changed into my slippers, walked over, and sat down next to my dad. After a brief hesitation, I spoke up: "Dad, Mom... Julian proposed to me tonight."