Clarisse originally wanted to deny it hastily, but hearing his sarcastic tone and remembering how cruel he had been to her, she found some courage and retorted bluntly, "It's none of your business!"
A look of surprise flickered across Jonathan's face, seemingly not expecting her, who had always been gentle and obedient, to defy him like this. He then threw the cigarette butt on the ground, stomping it out with his foot, and looked at her with a cold tone, "I can't control you, but I'll kindly remind you: beware of some people with ulterior motives!"
Even someone as mild-mannered as Clarisse felt angry at his words. It was one thing for him to mock her, but why did he have to speak so ill of that boy? He was innocent, wasn't he? So she clenched her fists in anger and shouted at him, "You don't even know him, how can you say he has ulterior motives? Just because you don't like him doesn't mean others don't!"
Jonathan's expression darkened instantly. Clarisse, in her anger, turned and stormed into the house, giving him the silent treatment. Jonathan, infuriated, kicked his car and stormed off to his place. It seemed he was really protective of that boy; their relationship must be quite something.
Clarisse had intended to ask Farah to relay a message to the boy, but Jonathan's interference made her stubbornly continue letting the boy walk her home. She deliberately chose the times when Jonathan returned home in the evening, wanting to prove that while she might be worthless in his eyes, she was a princess in the eyes of other men.
On another weekend, it was Bruno's birthday. Farah decided to throw a birthday party for him at home, inviting a bunch of classmates and friends. They sang, danced, drank, and played games late into the night. Farah, in high spirits, even danced for Bruno. Inherited from her mother, Farah had a graceful figure and was skilled in dancing. Bruno watched her with intoxicated eyes, while everyone clapped along with her rhythm. Clarisse sat on the sofa, tapping her feet, feeling drowsy.
She couldn't stand the noise, but since Farah had meticulously arranged this party for Bruno's birthday, she couldn't complain. Several times, her head leaned on the shoulder of the boy next to her, and when she realized it, she quickly sat up straight.
A knock at the door interrupted the party. Someone opened it, revealing Jonathan in pajamas, his face full of anger. His sharp eyes scanned the room, and upon seeing Clarisse dozing off against the boy who had walked her home, his gaze darkened, and he roared angrily, "It's the middle of the night, don't you people want to let others sleep?!"
His shout silenced the entire room. After all, they were all seventeen or eighteen years old, and Jonathan was several years older than them. Plus, with his expression, he intimidated them all. Farah, annoyed, stood with her arms crossed and said coolly, "Oh, Jonathan, were we interrupting something? Feeling unsatisfied?"
"Farah!" Bruno stood up and pulled Farah back.
Jonathan ignored Farah and strode forward, lifting Clarisse off the sofa, "You, come with me!"
Clarisse hadn't even realized what was happening when Jonathan dragged her out stumblingly. Farah followed, wanting to intervene, but Bruno stopped her.
Jonathan squeezed Clarisse's delicate wrist as he led her to the yard. Then, he angrily flung her hand away and roared, "Clarisse, do you even know what you're doing?"
If it was just the noise that kept him awake at night, it would be forgivable; young people making noise wasn't a big deal. But when he walked in and saw her leaning on that boy's shoulder, it made him furious. It seemed she had ignored his warning from that day!
Clarisse, unable to face his anger, stood there anxiously rubbing her sore wrist, but still defiantly murmured, "What I do has nothing to do with you…"
"What did you say? Say it again!" Jonathan's voice thundered. Seeing her visibly flinch, he suppressed his anger and said coldly, "It has nothing to do with me, huh? Fine! Let me show you something!" He stormed into his house, and Clarisse hesitantly followed.
Jonathan, with a stern face, retrieved his laptop from upstairs, turned it on, and inserted a USB drive. Without saying a word, he roughly pulled Clarisse to his side to watch.
There was a video clip of the boy singing karaoke with a group of friends. One of the friends jokingly asked, "Hey, why have you changed your taste lately? Do you like Clarisse, the innocent little rabbit type?"
The boy grinned smugly, "Her dad is BALAS's big boss, Cesar Rollin Balas, and she's his only daughter. If I can get her, BALAS will be mine in the future!"
"You cunning guy, that would save you twenty years of hard work!"
Everyone burst into laughter.
"How did you get this?" Clarisse watched the video, her face pale, feeling weak as she collapsed to the floor. How could this happen? How could this happen? The boy who seemed upright and gentle turned out to be a real villain…
She remembered Jonathan's warning a few days ago: beware of some people with ulterior motives. At the time, she had thought he was being harsh, and in her anger, she had drawn closer to that boy…
Thinking of this, she curled up, burying her head in her knees, feeling like a failure. She liked someone who despised her, and someone who liked her was only using her.
"I trust my judgment of people more than you do!" Jonathan stood there, looking down at her, feeling even angrier seeing her curled up like an ostrich. He had experienced a lot and was good at reading people. He had seen through the boy's malicious intentions with just one glance and had someone keep an eye on him afterward.
Her ostrich-like posture made him even more furious. He thought she was crying, so he scolded her without reservation, "Why cry? Do you even have the right to cry? Luckily nothing happened this time, but if something did, it would be too late for tears! I'm telling you, next time, open your eyes wider when you're judging men. Can't you see through such a scumbag?"
Clarisse, who had her head buried in her knees, suddenly raised her head, visibly annoyed, and said, "Then aren't you an even bigger scumbag yourself?"
Jonathan paused for a moment before realizing what her words meant. Yes, she still had feelings for him, and his harsh reprimand just now implied he was also a scumbag, wasn't it? He didn't expect her to be so articulate and straightforward; it was like a punch to his gut.
"Things in the Balas household are already busy and chaotic. Can't you behave properly outside and not cause more trouble for your dad and us? And if you keep causing trouble, I'll drag you back to the Balas mansion and have you operate under your dad's watchful eye!" Jonathan's words had not made Clarisse cry even when the boy in the video had treated her badly. But now, with just one sentence, her tears flowed uncontrollably.
How could he speak so harshly? What did he mean by "behave properly"? Wasn't she already well-behaved? And accusing her of causing trouble? When had she caused trouble? She always considered herself obedient and sensible.
The most piercing words Clarisse had ever heard in her life came from his mouth. Tears fell like broken beads, and Jonathan, unable to tolerate her childishness, furrowed his brow and yelled, "Why are you crying so easily?"
He didn't like girls with this kind of personality, always needing to be coddled like children. Catherine never acted like this. If she had any issues with him, she would demand them directly, rather than resorting to tears. And most importantly, Catherine was strong and didn't cry so easily.
Feeling even more aggrieved by Jonathan's harsh tone, Clarisse cried even harder. Jonathan was on the verge of losing his patience. He threw a tissue box in front of her, "Can you stop making a scene?"
The one thing Clarisse hated most in her life was being told not to make a scene. That single word made her sound so immature. Wasn't he the one hurting her with his words? Wasn't it unfair for her to cry?
"How am I not behaving? How am I causing trouble? It's that boy who's pursuing me, not the other way around. Why are you scolding me without understanding the situation?" She said, climbing up from the floor and running outside. Jonathan, infuriated by her temper, chased after her and pulled her back, pressing her against the door, "Where are you going?"
"Home!" Clarisse retorted coldly.
"Just saw that video, and you still want to face that boy?" Jonathan's question made her fall silent, leaning against the door, biting her lip, and sobbing quietly.
"Can you stop crying?" Jonathan ordered, annoyed. But her tears flowed even harder, leaving Jonathan at his wit's end. He couldn't understand where so many tears came from in her petite body. In desperation, he lifted her chin and leaned in closer, "Do you believe I can make you shut up in a different way?"
Her tears stopped instantly as she looked up at him in shock. Her innocent, watery eyes resembled those of a little rabbit. He extinguished the flame of desire in his heart to fiercely kiss her tender lips.
Releasing her, he said, "I've made myself clear. Behave yourself! Go to sleep!" Jonathan turned and went upstairs. Clarisse pouted behind him and climbed onto the sofa. In a little while, she heard him come downstairs again and felt a blanket being thrown over her. Without saying a word, he turned and left.
Clarisse looked at the blanket in her hands, realizing it was new. Too tired to think anymore, her body exhausted, she wrapped herself in the blanket and fell into a deep sleep.