Chapter 14 – Clarissa's POV
The ride home was silent, but not the calm kind of silence. It was the type that made her chest feel heavy, like the world was pressing down on her. Clarissa sat stiffly in the back seat of her car, her fingers gripping the leather so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale. The driver dared not speak. He had probably seen her expression in the rearview mirror and decided that silence was the only safe response.
The gates of her family mansion opened slowly, too slowly for her taste. Everything irritated her. The guard's lazy pace, the gravel crunching beneath the tires, even the breeze that blew her carefully styled hair across her face. By the time the car came to a stop at the front entrance, her chest was rising and falling rapidly. She threw the door open before the driver could come around and slammed it shut with a force that echoed across the courtyard.
Inside, the maids and butlers moved about quietly, pretending not to notice her storming presence. She walked past them without a word, her heels striking the marble floor like the beat of war drums. Every step screamed of her anger. She pushed open the door to her bedroom, shut it behind her, and locked it.
The silence of her room swallowed her. For a brief moment, it seemed like she could hold herself together, like she could stand there and breathe, but the rage came crashing down like a tidal wave. Her hand went to the first thing she could reach, her handbag, and with one violent motion she flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a dull thud and slid down, spilling its contents onto the floor.
Her breathing grew harsher. She kicked off her shoes, one after another, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet. She grabbed a glass vase from her nightstand, a decorative piece her mother had insisted on, and hurled it at the wall. The shattering sound was deafening, pieces scattering across the carpet like glittering shards of her pride.
"How dare she," Clarissa hissed under her breath, pacing back and forth. Her chest tightened with every step, her hands trembling as she tried to control her fury. "How dare she stand against me."
Alice's face flashed in her mind. Wide eyes. Trembling lips. The satisfying sound of the slap echoing in the corridor. A small, twisted smile tugged at her lips for half a second. At least that part had felt good. Alice was nothing more than dirt under her shoes. A poor girl trying to survive in a world that wasn't hers. Clarissa had barely needed to raise her voice to make Alice look small.
But Sophie.
The smile vanished. Clarissa's blood boiled anew, heat rushing to her face as the memory replayed itself. Sophie's sharp tongue, her bold defense, the way the students had turned to watch her instead of Clarissa. In that moment, all of Clarissa's carefully built dominance had been reduced to dust. Sophie had stolen it from her with nothing more than a few biting words and that arrogant tilt of her head.
Clarissa stopped pacing and stood in front of the tall mirror in her room. Her reflection stared back at her, the usually flawless face now red with anger, eyes glassy, lips trembling with fury. She lifted a hand to her cheek, as if seeing another version of herself. For a second, she hated what she saw. She hated the cracks in her perfect mask. She hated that Sophie had done this to her.
Her fists clenched at her sides.
Sophie had always been a problem. People adored her sharpness, her boldness, her refusal to bow to anyone. Even with Clarissa's wealth, even with her family name, Sophie somehow managed to steal attention without trying. That laughter of hers, carefree and unbothered, grated at Clarissa's nerves like nails on glass. It was not fair. Sophie did not deserve that kind of power.
Clarissa grabbed the edge of her vanity table, her knuckles white as she leaned forward, staring at herself in the mirror. She whispered to her reflection, her voice low but shaking with determination. "I will not let this go. I will not let her get away with humiliating me."
Her breathing slowed, though the anger still burned in her chest. Slowly, she sank onto the cushioned seat in front of the vanity. She took in the sight of herself: still beautiful, still powerful, but now wounded. And Clarissa knew one thing about herself , she never stayed wounded for long.
Her mind began to turn, already spinning with possibilities. There were a hundred ways to ruin a person, and she had the resources to make any of them happen. Sophie might think she was untouchable because of her family name, but Clarissa had something else. She had patience. She had influence in places Sophie never cared to look. And most of all, she had the ability to strike where no one expected.
Alice's trembling face returned to her thoughts, and Clarissa's lips curled into a bitter smile. Alice was nothing. She was weak. But she was also close to Sophie, and sometimes it was easier to break the shield than the sword. If Alice suffered, Sophie would feel it too. Maybe that was where Clarissa would begin.
The anger no longer felt wild. It had sharpened into something colder, something more dangerous. She sat straighter, brushing her hair back from her face, her expression returning to that flawless mask she wore so well. The storm inside her had not passed. It had only been contained, molded into something that would strike at the right time.
Clarissa touched the surface of the mirror one last time, whispering to herself as if making a vow. "They think today was the end. It was only the beginning."
And in the silence of her room, surrounded by shattered glass and broken pride, Clarissa began to plan her revenge.
