The seawater choked Claire's lungs, and pain spread throughout her body. She tried hard to stay conscious, but the medicine coursing through her veins made her whole body weak. She felt herself sinking to the bottom of the water.
Mom... She reached her hand toward the surface, trying to grasp the light streaming through, but it remained out of reach. Just before closing her eyes, Claire saw her grandmother's smile. Suddenly, the calm sea was broken by a large hand. It grasped her arm firmly, pulling her out of the water with tremendous force.
The man carefully placed her on the deck, pressing hard on her chest until Claire vomited a large amount of water. In the darkness, she saw a blurry face. It was somewhat familiar, yet still strange.
"Who are you?" she croaked.
"The one who saved you," came the cold but gentle voice. It sounded so nice.
"I..." Claire's voice was hoarse and weak. But before she could gather her senses, she felt as though thousands of insects were gnawing at her body, making her curl up in agony. "Damn it, why now..." she muttered, her eyes fixing on the man in front of her. She weakly grasped his wrist. "Can you help me?"
The man's eyes contracted, and his black gaze held a nostalgic gleam as he gently stroked her face. "Are you sure?" he asked softly. "No regrets?"
"No regrets," she whispered. Claire had never regretted anything she had done, whether it was agreeing to her father's arranged marriage to the Grey family or encountering the man standing in front of her.
She tried to tighten her grip on his hand, her eyes filled with pain. Compared to Tristan, the traitor, she would rather give herself to a stranger. At least... she wouldn't appear so pathetic.
After a brief moment of tenderness, Claire lost consciousness completely. In her dreams, she saw her mother, a gentle and bright woman.
Mom!
Claire ran toward her, excited, but what happened next made her scream in agony.
No!
Someone pushed her mother off the cliff. Claire tried desperately to reach out and grab her, but it was in vain. Her mother couldn't see her. Helplessly watching her mother fall off the cliff, Claire collapsed in despair, punching the ground in frustration.
She suddenly turned around and saw a figure fleeing in panic. But the pain in her head was so intense that everything around her distorted, leaving her alone in darkness. In her agony, Claire recalled the true cause of her mother's death.
Her mother hadn't fallen by accident; she had been pushed! The shock of witnessing it had made Claire fall gravely ill at the time. She had blocked out the memory, but now it returned, forcing her to confront the truth.
"Claire?"
"Wake up..."
When Claire woke up, she was lost in thought for a while. Then, she realized she had actually slept with an unknown man. The man beside her sighed in relief, staring at her with deep, intent eyes.
"Now that you're awake, go take a bath."
Instinctively, Claire wrapped herself in the blanket and asked, "Who are you?"
The man sat back at the desk across from her, focusing on the documents in front of him. "Alexander Miller."
Seeing her confused expression, Alexander glanced up at her. "What? Did the sea wash away Miss Claire's memory?" He raised an eyebrow. "Last night, I saved you and you..." He paused, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You begged me."
His gaze made Claire freeze. Memories of last night rushed back, and embarrassment flooded her. She had had no choice!
For some reason, his eyes seemed very familiar to her. Not wanting to appear weak, Claire clutched the blanket tighter and headed toward the bathroom.
"I'll take a bath first!" she called over her shoulder.
Once inside, Claire exhaled deeply and wiped her face. There was no denying it—what had happened, happened. But at least he looked much better than Tristan Grey!
The thought gave her a bit of comfort as she stepped into the bathtub. Staring out at the beautiful view from the window, she noticed that the villa was elegantly decorated, exuding sophistication—not the gaudy style of a nouveau riche.
Who is Alexander Miller?
Why did he appear last night?
Was it really a coincidence?
Sinking into the warmth of the bath, Claire let the calm surroundings envelope her. She needed to think clearly about her next steps, especially regarding Tristan and Anna. Meanwhile, in the room, Alexander focused on his computer screen, which displayed information about the Grey and Smith families.
His black eyes darkened as he stared at a photo of Tristan, and a cold smile tugged at his lips. A person like Tristan wasn't worthy of being with Claire. Removing his gold-rimmed glasses, Alexander rubbed his temples and pondered a hundred ways to deal with the Grey family.
Taking a deep breath, Alexander reached for the glass of water on the table. Just as he was about to drink, Claire emerged from the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. The steam had enhanced her delicate features, giving her cheeks a rosy glow that made him feel unexpectedly restless.
Quickly, he averted his gaze and coughed lightly, covering his discomfort by taking a sip of water. Regaining his composure, he asked, "I wonder if Miss Claire has any thoughts about her fiancé?"
Thoughts? Claire's eyes darkened, and she shrugged, pretending not to understand. "What thoughts could I possibly have?"
Alexander's gaze turned cold. "Do I need to remind you of what happened last night at the Eil Hotel?"
Claire paused, mid-action of drying her hair, and turned to him with a distant look. "What do you want?"
Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly. He had already learned everything that had happened the previous night in such a short time.