Chapter 19
Clarinda and Rudolf, representing Clifton Peterson, were placed
near the center spot of honor.
The cold wind brushed her face, and her nerves slowly calmed.
She accepted the scissors handed over by a staff member,
focusing on the host’s voice.
One snip of the ribbon, and she could finally leave.
“What an honor that you managed to come despite your busy
schedule. Had I known, I would’ve gone to the airport myself to
greet you. Forgive the inadequate welcome.”
The director of the Institute led Ambrose to the center seat.
“This way, please.”
Since taking control of the Langdon family, Ambrose had boldly
driven into the medical field. Now he owned not only elite
private hospitals but also some of the world’s top research
institutes and laboratories. Everyone was eager to climb this
towering tree.
When the Institute sent out the invitation, they had never
imagined Ambrose would actually attend.
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Hearing those words, Clarinda turned her head slightly and saw
the tall man beside her. Her fingers whitened around the
scissors.
In truth, she didn’t even need to look.
That faint scent of sandalwood was one she’d known since
childhood.
Ambrose stepped forward, his voice calm as he responded to the
director, “You’re too kind.”
As he lifted his arm, his elbow brushed against hers, though he
acted as if nothing had happened.
He didn’t spare her a single glance.
Still, Clarinda instinctively shifted aside. Rudolf, thinking she
disliked being close to a strange man, leaned in with concern.
“Do you want to switch places?”
“Yes!””
Her answer was quick and firm.
With people moving constantly behind them, Rudolf slipped an
arm lightly around her shoulders, guiding her to the other side
so no one would bump into her.
Chapter 19
Once the ribbon was cut, Clarinda felt an immense weight lift
off her chest.
The Institute had arranged a luncheon, but she had no desire to
stay. After a word with Rudolf, she excused herself with a claim
of feeling unwell.
Outside the Institute, she stood for a long while without
managing to hail a cab.
A sharp honk.
A sleek black limousine pulled up beside her.
Ambrose’s assistant stepped out, respectfully opening the back
door. “Miss, it’s cold out. Let me take you back to the hotel.”
She lifted her eyes, and there was Ambrose, seated inside.
He wore only a black shirt, the top two buttons undone. Gone was the icy formality of the ceremony; he looked a touch more
relaxed, almost lazy.
But only a touch.
Seeing her hesitate, Ambrose parted his lips. “Shall I get out and
invite you personally?”
The simple words banished her unease, stirring instead a flicker
of anger. Her voice was cool. “I wouldn’t dare trouble you, Mr.
Langdon.”
Mr. Langdon.
The title drew a clean, sharp line between them.
Ambrose’s gaze held hers. “Then get in the car.”
“No.”
His chiseled jaw tilted ever so slightly toward the Institute. “You
want the others to come out and see that you know me?”
Clarinda frowned.
She bent and climbed in.
The motion was quick, as if his words had struck a nerve.
No one spoke again. The air in the car grew heavy.
When the vehicle turned right at an intersection, Clarinda
finally broke the silence. “This isn’t the way to the hotel.”
“We’re going to eat.”
Ambrose’s voice was flat.
Clarinda’s temper flared. “Stop the car.”
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Derrick didn’t stop, only glanced at Ambrose through the
rearview mirror, waiting for his signal.
When Ambrose remained silent, Clarinda dropped all pretense.
She yanked at the door handle, her tone sharp. “You know I
won’t listen to you. Three years ago, I would’ve jumped from
this car, and I’ll do it again now!”
Derrick slammed the brakes on instinct.
Even now, the memory of that night haunted him.
Ambrose, unfazed, had anticipated it. He leaned forward,
gripping her wrist, his voice glacial. “Then whose orders will
you follow? Corby’s?”
“I’d rather listen to anyone than you!”
Clarinda tore her wrist free, like a leopard bristling in defense.
Ambrose gave a cold laugh. “And who was it that once begged
me never to leave her, swearing she’d always do as I said?”
“That was then!”
Clarinda had never lost control like this. Her eyes burned red as
she glared at him. “Mr. Langdon, I’m twenty–four, not seven.”
“Back then, if you crooked your finger, I would’ve followed
Chapter 19
without a second thought.”
The grip on her wrist loosened abruptly. She wrenched the door
open and climbed out in one swift motion.
She didn’t bother hailing another cab. Instead, she stepped onto
the sidewalk, letting the freezing wind drench her.
She was hoping it would scour away the flood of memories
crashing in her mind.
The only time she’d felt truly at ease in the Langdon family had
been those nine years by Ambrose’s side.
She had no family of her own, and he had become her family.
He had cared for her, raising her from a clueless girl into a
young woman.
His friends often joked, asking where he’d managed to find such
a sweet, obedient little sister.
Ambrose would only laugh. “Don’t bother trying. She’s very
naughty!”
When she was sixteen, she suffered the second abandonment of
her life.
The first was her parents‘ sudden death, leaving her behind.
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The second was when her brother no longer wanted her.
For a long time, she was trapped in that cycle of despair,
breaking down night after night.
What was so wrong with her? Why did everyone discard her?
That night, she was sent back to Rowena’s estate. She was
grounded for two days straight.
Lateefa Khanam is a spirited writer who finds freedom in horse riding. She cherishes her mare and the newborn foal, calling them her little happy family.
