Chapter 3

I thought the family I was arranged to marry into would be suspicious and doubtful about my request.

I never expected.

They seemed more worried I'd back out.

They said if possible, next week would be best.

My parents anxiously asked for my opinion.

Without hesitation, I agreed.

It was just short notice, and there were many things to handle.

After dinner with my parents, I returned to the house where Derek and I had lived for three years.

As soon as I turned the key.

A figure jumped out in front of me.

Blocking me at the door.

"Master, if you have any requests, just tell me, I'll definitely..."

Before she could finish.

Moira, dressed in a bunny girl maid outfit, recognized me.

Or rather.

She realized I wasn't the person she was waiting for.

I looked at the black stockings on her legs, her ultra-short skirt barely covering her private areas.

She was only three years younger than me.

Yet her whole body radiated a youthful vitality that seemed to endlessly mock my dullness and boring nature.

"I'm sorry... Derek insisted I come over."

"If you don't like it, I'll leave right now."

Moira looked innocently guilty as she backed away.

Turning around, she tripped over a suitcase.

Almost simultaneously, a figure rushed out from behind me.

Catching her protectively beneath him.

After confirming Moira wasn't hurt.

Derek immediately turned on me with harsh accusations.

"Clara! Can't you be more tolerant?!"

"Moira is still just a child. How could you lay a hand on her?"

I watched this performance with cold eyes.

"A child? A twenty-year-old child?"

"Derek, what kind of child wears an outfit like that in someone else's home?"

"She clearly lacks discipline! No manners!"

"Slap!"

Derek raised his hand and struck me across the face.

"Have you made enough of a scene? Clara, not everyone is like you, born into wealth with no worries about food or shelter!"

Moira seized the opportunity to start crying.

"Yes... I'm sorry, I really have no manners..."

"But when I was born, my parents were already dead... no one taught me these things..."

"The only person who was willing to teach me, my sister... she's dead now too..."

She buried herself in Derek's arms, her whole body trembling with sobs.

The look she gave me carried barely concealed hatred.

"Moira, none of this is your fault. This has nothing to do with you..."

Derek looked down at her with pity, instinctively reaching to wipe her tears.

His hand froze in mid-air.

As if he'd just noticed what Moira was wearing.

"Why are you dressed like this..."

Before he could finish, Derek's Adam's apple bobbed.

The desire in his eyes was completely unconcealed.

Moira was clearly pleased with his reaction.

She lowered her head shyly.

"I have to attend a party tomorrow night. This is just a performance costume."

"If you don't like it, I'll take it off right now!"

As she spoke, Moira actually started to undress.

Derek quickly stopped her.

Their hands clasped together, palm to palm.

I had clearly become an outsider.

"Since it's for a performance, there's nothing wrong with it."

Derek shot me a pointed look.

"Only people with dirty minds see everything as dirty!"

I laughed mockingly.

Watching Moira's little schemes.

I only felt that my three years of effort had been worthless.

Since Vivian died, although I became his official girlfriend, for these three years, he never marked me.

I thought time would fade everything.

That one day, I would find my way into his heart.

But reality kept slapping me in the face.

One Vivian left.

Another Moira arrived.

Yet in his world, I was still just an accessory girlfriend.

I tried to take our relationship further.

I even bought the clothes my best friend recommended to please him.

But he pushed me away every time.

Looking at me with growing disgust.

I thought I wasn't charming enough.

So I specifically took ballet lessons.

But in the end, even this flexibility didn't win Derek's special attention.

On the contrary, all these attempts to please him became "scheming" and "cheap tricks" in my boyfriend's vocabulary.

Now.

Moira only needed to have a face fifty percent similar to her sister's to easily move this supposedly ascetic man.

All my efforts seemed like a joke in this moment.

It turned out it wasn't that I wasn't good enough.

I just wasn't the person he held dear in his heart.