The next day, Clara took a deep breath before stepping into her father's study, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her sweater. She had been dreading this conversation, knowing how much her father had hoped things would work out between her and Liam Reynolds.
Sitting across from him in the softly lit room, surrounded by the scent of old leather and mahogany, Clara calmly explained everything that Liam was kind and respectful, but he had feelings for someone else, and she couldn't pretend there was something between them when there wasn't. Her father listened quietly, his face hard to read, but when she finished, she caught a faint flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he leaned back and let out a slow sigh.
"Liam is a good young man," he said finally, his voice measured. "Are you sure about this?"
Clara bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the armrest of her chair. She knew her father meant well and he had always wanted the best for her, and in his eyes, Liam, the heir to the Reynolds Group, was the perfect match. But she couldn't ignore the truth. "Dad, I know he's a good man," she replied softly, her gaze steady. "Let's not force him, alright? Let Liam choose his own happiness. "
For a moment, her father simply studied her, his sharp eyes searching for any sign of doubt. Then, to her relief, his expression softened, and he reached across the desk to pat her hand gently. "Alright," he conceded with a small smile. "You are my dear precious daughter, and I will listen to you." He paused, then added, almost casually, "By the way, there's a charity auction happening next week. Follow me, and maybe you can network with other young men too."
Clara hesitated. She had never been one for grand social events, preferring the quiet comfort of books and her close circle of friends over the glittering, high-society gatherings her father often attended. But she could hear the unspoken hope in his voice, he wanted her to move forward, to open herself up to new possibilities. And so, despite her reservations, she nodded. "Alright, Dad. I'll go."
On the night of the charity auction, Clara stood in front of her bedroom mirror, adjusting the straps of her off-the-shoulder ivory gown. The dress fit perfectly, hugging her waist before flowing out in soft layers. Her hair was styled in an elegant updo, with a few loose strands framing her face. She barely recognized herself, gone was the girl who wore a simple dress in school. Now, she looked like the polished heiress everyone expected. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hands over the gown, trying to calm the nerves fluttering in her stomach.
The venue was stunning. It was a grand ballroom glowing with golden light, tall flower arrangements, and crystal chandeliers reflecting off the marble floor. The room buzzed with quiet chatter and the clink of glasses, filled with the scent of perfume and champagne. At first, Clara stayed close to her father, but once he was swept into conversations with business partners, she ended up alone at the back of the ballroom, quietly sipping her champagne.
She felt out of place, like a spectator in a world she didn't quite belong to. Her fingers tightened around the glass as she scanned the room, half-hoping to spot a familiar face, though she wasn't sure if she wanted it to be Liam's or not.
Then, a smooth voice broke through her thoughts. "You're the daughter of the Harper Group, right?"
Startled, Clara turned to see a tall, well-dressed man standing beside her, his dark eyes gleaming with polite interest. He had the confident air of someone accustomed to attention, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders.
"Yes, I am," she replied, forcing a polite smile. "And you are?"
"Alex Grant," he said, extending a hand. "My father is the chairman of the Grant Group."
Clara took his hand, giving it a light shake. "Nice to meet you. I'm Clara Harper."
Clara found herself making polite conversation with Alex. He was easy to talk to, charming, well-spoken, and surprisingly attentive. He asked about her studies and interests, even made her laugh with a dry comment about the over-the-top nature of events like this. For a moment, she almost forgot how heavy her dress felt or the tension that
As they exchanged pleasantries, Clara couldn't help but glance over Alex's shoulder, her gaze drifting across the crowded ballroom until, like a magnet pulling her attention, she spotted Liam standing near the entrance, his presence commanding even from a distance. Her breath hitched.
Liam had just arrived, moving through the crowd with his usual calm confidence. His suit fit him perfectly, and his dark hair was slightly messy, like he'd run a hand through it in frustration. When their eyes met across the room, Clara's breath caught. He only gave her a quick, formal nod—but it was enough to make her heart skip.
And then, as if sensing her stare, he looked upand their eyes met.
Alex, sharp-eyed and perceptive, noticed the way Clara's attention drifted and the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly around her champagne flute when Liam appeared. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips before he smoothly redirected her focus. "Clara," he began, his tone light but deliberate, "are you single right now?"
The bluntness of the question startled her, and she blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "Yes," she admitted after a beat, her voice quieter than she intended. "I'm currently not seeing anyone."
Alex didn't miss a beat. "Actually, my parents have been urging me to settle down," he said, his gaze steady on hers. "I've enjoyed talking to you tonight. I heard that your father is looking for someone to marry you. Would you consider an arranged marriage with me?"
Clara's lips parted in surprise. The proposal was so sudden and matter-of-fact free that she was speechless at first. But then, the logic of it hit her. Her father wouldn't have to keep searching for a match. She wouldn't have to face more awkward meetings or see her father's quiet disappointment when things didn't work out. And Alex,he was attractive, smart, and came from a respected family. It wasn't romantic, but it made sense. After a short pause, she nodded. "Alright," she said quietly. "I'll agree."
Alex's eyebrows lifted in surprise. He clearly hadn't expected her to agree so quickly. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, and before Clara could react, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to it, a gesture that felt both charming and possessive. "You won't regret this," he said softly.
The moment didn't go unnoticed. From across the room, Liam saw Clara, glowing in ivory, her hand in Alex's as he kissed it. Liam's grip tightened around his glass. It looked like something straight out of a society column: the Harper heiress being charmed by the Grant heir.
His jaw clenched. He tried to brush it off—their matchmaking was arranged by their families and Clara had made it clear that she would turn down, nothing more was going to happen between them—but seeing her like this, with Alex, stirred something in him he didn't expect. A quiet, restless anger curled in his chest, and he couldn't quite push it away.
****
The charity auction buzzed with excitement as guests raised their paddles one after another, bidding on rare gems and artwork. Clara stood near the back, quietly twisting the stem of her champagne glass, only half paying attention until Liam stepped forward and placed a bid on a stunning diamond necklace.
The piece sparkled under the lights, a teardrop sapphire surrounded by diamonds on a delicate platinum chain. The bidding was intense, but Liam stayed calm, raising his offer each time without hesitation. When the gavel finally dropped in his favor, the crowd murmured in approval.
Clara felt a sharp pang in her chest. Her fingers tightened around her glass. He must be buying it for the girl he really loves, she thought, the idea sinking deeper than she wanted to admit.
As the auction wrapped up, guests started gathering near the exits, chatting and laughing as they made their way out. Clara was just about to tell her father she was ready to leave when she spotted a flustered waiter weaving through the crowd with a tray full of red wine. Her eyes flicked to Liam, standing in the waiter's path, deep in conversation with an older man and clearly unaware.
Something in her stomach turned into a sudden, urgent instinct. Before she could think twice, she moved.
Everything happened fast. Clara rushed forward just as the waiter tripped on the edge of a rug. The tray tipped, and glass shattered around her as red wine splashed across the front of her ivory dress, soaking the fabric in a dark, messy stain. The sharp scent of wine hit her nose, cold liquid running down her skin. She stumbled slightly but Liam remained untouched.
For a moment, everything went still. Then Liam turned and saw her soaked, stained, and standing in front of him like a shield, while the waiter mumbled apologies. Without a word, Liam slipped off his jacket and gently placed it over her shoulders, his hands pausing just a second longer than needed. His warmth seeped through the damp fabric, and Clara shivered.
"Your jacket will get dirty," she said quietly, her voice a little shaky as she looked down at her ruined dress.
Liam's brow furrowed, his expression a mix of disbelief and something she couldn't quite name. "You're worrying about my jacket at a time like this?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with concern. "Clara, did you get hurt? Why would you do something so reckless?"
The intensity in his gaze made her breath catch. She had expected annoyance, perhaps even indifference but not this. Not the way his fingers tightened slightly on her arms, as if to reassure himself she was unharmed.
"As long as you're okay, that's all that matters," she said softly, forcing a small smile. "I'll wash your jacket and return it to you."
Liam exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. If it's dirty, just throw it away."
The words, dismissive and casual, struck her like a physical blow. To him, it was just a jacket which was replaceable, insignificant. But to Clara, it felt like a rejection, like a confirmation that he wanted no further ties between them. Her chest tightened, but she kept her expression carefully neutral, nodding as she adjusted the jacket around her shoulders. Of course he wouldn't want it back, he probably didn't want anything to do with her after the matchmaking.
The jacket suddenly felt like a lead weight, its expensive fabric mocking her foolishness. "Alright, I won't bother you anymore," she murmured, stepping back before he could see how his words had affected her. "Goodnight."
What she didn't see was the way Liam's jaw clenched as she turned away, the way his hand half-reached out as if to stop her before he forced it back to his side. She didn't hear the quiet curse he muttered under his breath, frustrated with himself for the way the words had come out all wrong.
And she certainly didn't notice the way his gaze lingered on her retreating figure, dark and unreadable, long after she had disappeared into the crowd.
The moment Clara turned away, Liam's chest tightened with an unfamiliar ache. His fingers flexed at his sides, still warm from where they had brushed against her skin. The sight of her walking away with his jacket draped over her slender shoulders, her ivory gown ruined by the wine sent a sharp pang of regret through him.
"If it's dirty, just throw it away."
Why had he said that?
The words had left his mouth before he could stop them, cold and dismissive, when all he had really wanted was to pull her closer, to ask if she was hurt, to demand why she had put herself between him and disaster. The way she had rushed in without hesitation like she would have taken that entire tray of wine for him without a second thought left him unsettled. No one had ever done something like that for him before. Not without expecting something in return.
But Clara had. And then she walked away.
From the moment Liam stepped into the ballroom, his eyes kept drifting to Clara. While other women showed off their designer gowns and tried to catch attention, she stood out without even trying. She smiled kindly at an older waiter offering champagne and it was those small, natural moments that pulled Liam in more than any polished behavior ever could. While the room echoed with loud laughter, Clara's soft chuckle, barely heard in her conversation with Alex, made Liam lean in just to catch it.
Then without a second thought she had stepped in front of him, shielding him from the accident. The moment replayed clearly in Liam's mind: the wine soaking her ivory dress in an instant, her shoulders tightening from the shock, yet she didn't complain. Even now, in the middle of the mess, he could still see the way her lashes lowered when he placed his jacket over her, and the slight tremble in her hands as she held it close.
She had protected him.
The cool night air brushed against Clara's flushed cheeks as she stepped outside the venue, the weight of Liam's jacket still draped over her shoulders. The scent of his cologne lingered in the fabric, a painful reminder of the man she couldn't have.
A small, relieved sigh escaped her lips as she replayed the moment in her mind, the waiter stumbling, the glasses tipping, her own body moving before she could think. If she hadn't acted, that entire tray would have crashed into Liam instead. The thought of him standing there, his pristine suit drenched in red wine, was somehow unbearable. At least this way, she had taken the blow for him.
Alex's proposal had been sudden, but perhaps it was exactly what she needed. A clean, practical arrangement with no messy emotions involved. He was handsome, from a good family, and most importantly, he wanted to marry her. No hesitation. No unrequited feelings.
Even if her heart still stubbornly clung to the memory of Liam's concerned gaze, the way his hands had lingered on her shoulders for just a second too long. But that didn't matter anymore. Because soon, she would be someone else's.