As dinner was drawing to a close, Cesar Rollin Balas addressed Clarisse Balas, "Clarisse, tonight I'm hosting a coming-of-age celebration for you. You can invite your close friends, and I'll invite some of my associates. It's also a good chance to introduce Jonathan to everyone."
Clarisse Balas frowned, her delicate face showing her displeasure. "Dad, I don't want a coming-of-age party. You know I hate those kinds of events. Just have an introduction for Jonathan. Besides, Farah has already invited me out for dinner tonight!"
Clarisse was a first-year university student who usually stayed on campus. She was home today for her birthday, and Farah was her close friend and roommate.
"Clarisse, I know you don't like these events, but this is your coming-of-age celebration. It's an important day in your life, and I think we should celebrate it properly," Cesar Rollin Balas began, but was interrupted by her pouting.
"Oh, come on! You've all given me presents already, that's enough celebration!"
Cesar Rollin Balas sighed in resignation, "Alright, have it your way. Just be careful when you go out for dinner, and come home early."
"You're the best, Dad!" Clarisse beamed, her eyes crinkling with joy.
Jonathan Serge Drucker, sitting across from her, observed this exchange with some surprise. He hadn't expected her to decline a coming-of-age celebration. In his experience, wealthy young women often relished such grand events, eager to showcase their status as the family's princess. Her preference for a quiet dinner with a friend rather than a lavish party slightly softened the irritation he felt towards her.
That evening, Cesar Rollin Balas formally introduced Jonathan Serge Drucker to the various leaders of the Miami mafia. Most perceived Jonathan as a refined intellectual, failing to notice the cold, ruthless determination lurking beneath his calm exterior. None could have predicted that this seemingly gentle man would one day, through sheer brutality and cunning, consolidate power over the entire Miami underworld.
By the time Clarisse Balas returned home, it was quite late. The guests had left, and the servants were busy tidying up. Instead of heading to her room, she wandered along a path in the garden at the back of the house. There, a swing hung, a creation of Cesar Rollin Balas's own hands, a personal sanctuary where she often retreated to reflect.
Under the soft moonlight, she sat on the swing, gazing up at the starry sky, reminiscing about the day's events. That evening, she had confided in Farah about her feelings for Jonathan Serge Drucker. Farah had explained that the heart-pounding excitement she felt was love.
Love—a beautiful word. Thinking of it, she shyly smiled. Suddenly, a faint sound startled her. She jumped off the swing, heart racing, "Who's there?"
After a moment, she reasoned that it was unlikely an intruder had breached their heavily guarded home. Gathering her courage, she cautiously approached the source of the noise, only to find a familiar figure stumbling around.
"Jonathan?"
Surprised, she hurried over to support the staggering man. The strong smell of alcohol hit her as she neared, and she noticed the empty bottle in his hand. His face was twisted in pain, and her heart ached for him.
"Jonathan, what's happened to you? Let me help you back to rest," she offered gently.
"Catherine? Is it you?" He suddenly asked, his steps halting as he looked down at her. In the clear night, she saw the profound sorrow in his eyes. She shook her head slightly, feeling helpless, "I'm not—"
Before she could finish, he pulled her into a tight embrace, clutching her as if afraid she might vanish. His grip was so strong it felt like he might break her back. He held her close, whispering in anguish by her ear, "Catherine, I miss you so much. Come back to me, let's start over, please?"
When Clarisse Balas was pulled into Jonathan Serge Drucker's embrace, her heart pounded wildly. However, upon hearing his words, her heart felt incredibly bitter—he had mistaken her for someone else. How cruel was fate, to let her realize her love for him only to find out he already had someone he deeply loved?
From the name "Catherine," it was clear that the woman he loved must be noble, beautiful, and graceful. Clarisse lowered her eyes in sadness and gently pushed against Jonathan. "Jonathan, you've got the wrong person. I'm Clarisse," she said. But he held her so tightly that she couldn't push him away. She resigned to staying still, hoping it would calm his turbulent emotions.
Suddenly, he pushed her away and, without any warning, leaned in to kiss her. She stared in shock as his handsome face got closer, feeling his cool, trembling lips press against her soft ones. Her mind went blank. She had never been in a relationship before, so she didn't understand anything about kissing. She simply clutched tightly at the fabric of his shirt, standing there stiffly, allowing him to take the lead. Maybe it was because she liked him so much that she forgot to resist or to show any modesty in the face of his sudden advances.
Jonathan's kiss was forceful and intense, causing her lips to burn with pain from his rough kisses. The stubble on his chin scratched her tender skin, making it hurt even more. Yet, he wasn't satisfied; he aggressively pried her tightly closed teeth open with his tongue, tangling with her timid one in an unending kiss.
As she gradually adapted to his presence and calmed down, Clarisse's heart beat even faster, feeling like it would jump out of her chest. She realized that kissing someone she loved was an incredibly joyful experience.
"Catherine, what game are you playing now? Why are you so inexperienced, like a little girl? You know I don't like that…" he murmured painfully into her ear, instantly extinguishing her enthusiasm. She gathered all her strength and pushed him away forcefully. Jonathan staggered back a few steps before he regained his balance. Looking at him with teary eyes, Clarisse said, "Jonathan, I'm Clarisse Balas!" Tears fell before she could finish her sentence. She turned and ran away, covering her mouth to hide her sobs.
Jonathan, now partially sobered by the push, squinted at the direction she had fled. Once he recognized her yellow dress, he angrily punched a nearby pavilion column. His mood had been terrible that day. Just yesterday, he had been a promising medical student, and today he found himself entrenched in the underworld. The thought suffocated him. The recent departure of Catherine, combined with the unfamiliar environment, had driven him to seek solace in a bottle of alcohol.
He had intended to use the garden to calm his mind, not to involve her in his turmoil. He was aware of her youthful crush on him, but he found her type suitable only as a sister figure, not as a romantic partner. Frustrated, he tossed aside the empty bottle and, after loosening his tie, stumbled back to his room.