Chapter 8

"Clara Bennett?..." Eugene muttered, his unfocused eyes slowly sharpening as a bit of clarity returned to his face. "Clara Bennett!" His tone flipped from gentle to cold in a heartbeat, eyes full of disgust. Clara clenched her fists tightly, jaw stiff. "If you're looking for Ellie, then get out! Just leave!" She had had enough. She couldn't take it anymore. Eugene's eyes turned bloodshot. He let out a cold chuckle and grabbed her arm firmly. "Get out? Clara... wow, you've gotten bold." His chilly fingers clamped down on her chin, hard like iron pincers. "Let go!" Clara struggled, trying to pry his hand away. But his strength was overwhelming—she used all her might and still couldn't move him an inch. It hurt. Badly. Tears welled up from the pain. Just when she thought he might break her jaw, Eugene suddenly froze. The alcohol hit him again, sending his mind back into a haze. His dark eyes lost focus, and Clara's face started to blur before him. "Eugene..." she called out softly. Then in the next second, his tall frame collapsed onto her, pinning her tightly under him. She couldn't move. Could barely breathe. Before she could react, his warm hand slid under her collar... His cool fingertips brushed against her skin, and Clara trembled uncontrollably. Panic kicked in, but oddly, she also felt a shiver she couldn't explain. Frozen in place, she didn't dare move, and then his murky voice brushed past her ear, thick with desire. "I missed you..." Like some kind of spell, her eyes fluttered shut. Eugene's lips trailed down her skin—wet and slow—each kiss like a jolt of electricity, making her nerves go haywire. "Ellie... Ellie..." he murmured deeply. Suddenly, Clara snapped back to reality. Her heart sank. She pleaded, "Eugene... no, please don't...!" Please don't mistake me for her again. I'm not Ellie. I'm Clara—Clara Bennett. But Eugene was too far gone to listen. He didn't care about her words or her resistance. He tore at her clothes and forced himself against her— Only after several rounds did he finally stop, collapsing beside her, falling into a deep sleep. *** Morning light poured in. Clara woke first. Her eyelids fluttered, her face pale and drained as she stared at the man beside her. Eugene's soft hair looked like it belonged to a kind soul, the kind you'd expect to be tender. But he wasn't tender. No—the tenderness just never extended to her. Her fingers drifted to his hair, brushing through it gently. After a while, her eyes traced every detail of his handsome face, her long fingers moving down to lightly rest on his rose—colored lips... Suddenly, his eyes flew open! There was a beat of confusion, then fury quickly consumed his gaze. He shoved her hand away and grabbed her by the throat. "Clara! What the hell did you do to me last night!" His voice, burning with rage, nearly shattered her. She trembled, trying to pry his hand off, barely able to breathe. "Let... go..." His grip only tightened. Clara's face turned a deep red, her eyes rolling back. She honestly thought this was the end. Then—suddenly—he let go. Before she could catch a breath, his cold, mocking voice cut through the air. "Clara, impressive. Even when I'm drunk, you still found a way into my bed." "Cough... cough..." Clara collapsed onto the mattress, struggling to breathe, tears stinging her eyes. She choked out helplessly, "Eugene, you were drunk last night... it was you..."