Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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“Little troublemaker, you and your dad really gave us the runaround! What the hell happened to you? Why are you soaking wet?” Henry Caldwell exclaimed as he rushed up behind the man in black.
The moment his eyes landed on the drenched child, his jaw dropped. Panic flashed across his face as he crouched down, hands moving frantically to check the boy over.
Juliette crossed her arms, her tone cool but sharp. “The kid was nearly drowned. By the time I got there, the bastard had already run off. I didn’t get a clear look at them, but it was no accident–this was premeditated.”
Henry froze, his breath catching in his chest. The blood drained from his face as her words sunk in. Hugging the boy tightly, he murmured, “You’re safe now, buddy. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Behind him, Patrick Clarke–silent until now–stood tall, his presence commanding. His sharp features were calm, but his eyes said otherwise. Narrowed and dark, they radiated an icy, dangerous edge, a quiet kind of fury that made the air around him feel ten degrees colder.
But when his gaze shifted to Juliette, the ice melted. The lethal intensity in his eyes softened, replaced with something gentler, warmer.
“My name is Patrick Clarke,” he said, his deep, rich voice smooth but firm, carrying an undercurrent of authority. “Thank you for saving my son, Louis. Tell me–what do you want as compensation?”
His words weren’t arrogant, just straightforward, like the kind of man who’d hand you a blank check and expect nothing but honesty in return.
Juliette let the name “Patrick ” and “Louis” roll over in her mind, her expression unreadable.
She held his gaze, unflinching. “My name is Juliette,” she said simply. “And I don’t need money.”
She knew better than to leave her statement open to interpretation. A man like Patrick, constantly surrounded by people with hidden agendas, might think she was playing coy, trying to make herself seem different.
But by stating her name, she sent a clear message: I’m not someone you can buy.
The Vaughn family heiress, engaged to the Montgomery family–there was no scenario where she’d be lacking money. Whatever else he might assume about her, financial gain wasn’t part of the equation.
Before Patrick could reply, the boy in his arms tugged at his sleeve. His small voice piped up, clear and earnest. “Dad, you should just marry her! Then you can take care of her forever and repay her for saving my life.”
Patrick’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, his sharp jawline drawing even sharper as he stared down at his son. Juliette had to admit, Patrick was a walking perfection.
From his features to the way he carried himself, he looked like he’d stepped straight out of some unattainable fantasy. But she shook her head, her tone firm. “Mr. Clarke, kids say whatever comes to their minds. Besides, I’m already engaged.” The engagement was doomed, of course–that much was inevitable. But now wasn’t the time. She wasn’t just going to walk away.
No, she was waiting. Waiting for the day Finn thought he’d won it all, waiting to rip it away and crush him into the ground.
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Patrick’s brows furrowed slightly, his expression thoughtful, like he was piecing together something. After a long pause, he finally said, “Finn isn’t a good match.”
Her breath hitched, just for a moment. Even an outsider like Patrick could see it–how unworthy Finn was.
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And yet, in the past, she’d spent years convincing herself he was everything she wanted, everything she needed. No wonder she’d ended up as nothing more than ashes.
A bitter laugh bubbled in her chest, but she swallowed it down, her face remaining cool and unreadable.
Patrick’s next words, however, caught her off guard. “If you want, I can help you crash the wedding. If you’re willing to leave with me, I’ll deal with the fallout. Whatever’rumors or consequences come from breaking your engagement with the Montgomery family, I’ll handle them. Consider it repayment for saving Louis.”
For a split second, Juliette felt something unfamiliar ripple through her chest. She didn’t know if it was surprise or something deeper. But just as quickly, irritation followed, burning away whatever momentary softness had crept in.
“Repayment can wait,” she said, her tone steady and cool. “When I need it, I’ll come find you.”
Patrick didn’t push back. He gave a slight nod, his dark gaze steady and unwavering. “Alright.”
Then, he took a step forward. Instantly, the space between them felt smaller, heavier. His presence was overwhelming, a quiet power that suffocated the air.
Without thinking, Juliette stepped back, instinctively widening the gap.
For a moment, something flickered in Patrick’s eyes–surprise, maybe–but he didn’t close the distance again. Instead, he shrugged off the black coat draped over his arm and placed it gently around her shoulders.
“The water’s cold. The wind will make it worse. Wear it,” he said, his voice low, almost intimate.
The coat carried a faint, clean scent–cedarwood and sandalwood, sharp and grounding with just a hint of warmth. It was a scent that stirred something in her, a memory she couldn’t quite place but knew she didn’t want to dwell on.
As Patrick turned to leave, carrying Louis in his arms, the boy peeked over his father’s shoulder. His wide, innocent eyes were full of disappointment, as though he’d just lost something precious. He stared at Juliette with a sadness far beyond his years, as if silently asking, “Why won’t you be my mom?”
“Patrick, let me carry him,” Henry said, breaking the moment with a practical tone. “If someone takes a photo of you holding the kid, the internet’s gonna blow up. Cleaning up that PR shitstorm will be a nightmare.”
Patrick wasn’t just any man. He was the Patrick -the nation’s top actor, the first to break 16 billion dollars in box office revenue. He wasn’t just talented; he was untouchable. A legend who walked a razor’s edge between brilliance and perfection, worshipped by millions.
Normally, his grandmother looked after Louis. But tonight, she hadn’t been feeling well, leaving Henry to bring the boy along.
What was supposed to be a simple evening turned into chaos, ending in this fateful meeting by the lake.
“No, I’ll carry him,” Patrick said, his tone firm, leaving no room for discussion. The way he held his son made it clear–he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.
Henry rubbed his nose, silently piecing things together. After nearly losing Louis tonight, it was no wonder Patrick wasn’t ready to let anyone else take him. Even if it meant potential trouble later, the man wasn’t about to loosen his grip on what
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Chapter 3
he’d almost lost.
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“Got any idea who might’ve done this? Not many people even know you have a kid,” Henry asked carefully, his tone probing but measured.
Patrick’s eyes darkened, the temperature around him dropping instantly. “The Clarke family. They all know.”
The weight of his words hit hard. Henry swallowed. ‘Could someone from Patrick’s own family have been behind the attack?‘
Not daring to speculate further, Henry focused on Louis instead. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it snugly around the boy, shielding him from the chill.
The two men were heading toward the exit when a voice stopped them in their tracks.
“Mom! Something awful happened! Juliette pushed Bianca into the lake and tried to drown her! Evan saved her, but then Juliette lost her mind and beat her up! She even hit Evan when he tried to stop her! You and Dad need to hurry and see for yourselves!”
Patrick froze mid–step, while Henry’s jaw dropped.
‘What the hell is that?‘ Henry wondered, ‘Juliette–that Juliette–the delicate, elegant woman we left by the lake, is now being accused of trying to drown someone and going full–on berserk?
Sensing Patrick’s questioning gaze, Henry quickly explained, “That’s Isla talking–the youngest heiress of the Vaughn family. Juliette’s the eldest, and they’ve also got a foster daughter, Bianca. She’s the middle one. Bianca entered showbiz about six months ago and claims to be your biggest fan. She’s been leeching off your name and popularity ever since.”
Henry’s familiarity with Bianca’s antics came from years of her shamelessly inserting herself into Patrick’s orbit. Isla, on the other hand, he’d only met tonight.
As for Juliette, she was notorious in high society as the “pretty but useless” eldest heiress–admired for her looks, but not much else. She also happened to be engaged to Finn, the heir to one of the country’s most powerful families. This was his first time meeting her face–to–face.
Patrick gave a short, indifferent “Oh,” clearly unimpressed by the gossip, and turned to leave. But before he could take another step, Louis tightened his arms around his father’s neck, holding on stubbornly.
Patrick sighed softly, a flicker of helplessness crossing his face. “Fine. Let’s check it out. See what’s really going on.”
“Alright,” Henry replied.
On the other side of the estate, Isla had just finished her dramatic recount of the night’s events to her mother, Polly Vaughn.
Polly’s face darkened with fury as she grabbed her husband. “She thinks just because she’s marrying into the Montgomery family, she can do whatever the hell she wants? You’d better teach her a lesson! How does she even compare to Bianca? She’s always picking on her!”
Their father, Mason, wore the same grim expression. Bianca might have been a foster child, but there was no denying her value to the Vaughn family. She was a master of piano, chess, calligraphy, and painting, effortlessly earning admiration wherever she went.
On top of that, her growing career in entertainment–and her signature perfume line–had opened new opportunities for the family’s business ventures.
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The couple stormed toward the back garden, with Isla following eagerly, clearly enjoying the chaos she’d stirred up. But as they reached the rear entrance, they froze. Juliette walked toward them slowly, her slender frame draped in an oversized black coat that looked distinctly masculine.
Polly didn’t even hesitate. She stormed forward, raising her hand to slap Juliette across the face. “Tonight is your grandmother’s birthday banquet! Do you have any idea how many important people are here? And you dared to lay hands
on Bianca?!”
Her voice was low, trembling with suppressed rage. But before the slap could land, Juliette’s hand shot up, catching her mother’s wrist mid–air.
Her gaze swept past her mother, landing on the figures behind her. Mason looked ready to explode, while Isla stood there smirking, her expression practically begging for things to escalate.
Juliette’s lips curled into a cold smile. Memories flickered in her mind–memories of a time when Isla had clung to her hand, her soft, sweet voice calling her “Sister.”
Back then, Isla used to follow her around like a bright–eyed little shadow. ‘When did that change? When did my baby sister become Bianca’s puppet, ready to go against me at every turn?‘
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11:38 Wed, Jan 29 BB.
Chapter 4
