Chapter 3I Saved an Heiress but Was Burned Alive. This Time, I Looked Away.

When she finished speaking, the hospital room fell silent.

Clara raised an eyebrow when she didn't see the delight she expected.

"What? Don't tell me you think you can become the Dawson heiress' husband."

She acted as if she had my best interests at heart.

"Listen to me. Marrying into the Dawson family isn't an option for you."

I stared at her, speechless, then turned and called outside.

"Officer."

Clara's expression changed sharply, and she sat up.

"Ian, you—"

Before she could finish, the officer explained everything that happened.

"Our investigation confirms that Mr. Hughes had nothing to do with your medical episode. You also broke his door, so you should cover the cost of replacing it."

Clara's smug expression faded into something unreadable.

She stared at me. She probably never imagined a man would call the police after she lowered herself to offer him such a favor.

"Don't bother paying." I looked at her without hiding my disgust.

"All I want is for you to stay away from me, Miss Dawson. You bring nothing but trouble."

After a long pause, Clara gave a soft laugh.

"This is a lot to take in. You're not thinking clearly."

She slowly settled back against the pillows, her voice certain.

"Of course. Any man would be overwhelmed with joy at an opportunity like this. I'll give you time to calm down."

I laughed in disbelief.

Without another word, I turned and left.

Early the next morning, a vehicle from the health department stopped outside my clinic, and inspectors sealed the entrance.

The neighbors gathered around.

The inspector didn't speak loudly, but every word was clear.

"Suspected use of illegal drugs, sexual harassment of patients, and disruption of medical services."

The crowd erupted.

"You'd never guess by looking at him..."

"So, he's a criminal. Men like that disgust me!"

"I got medicine here before! What if he secretly filmed me?"

I didn't defend myself.

In my previous life, I shouted myself hoarse and knelt on the ground, begging them to investigate properly.

All I got was louder ridicule and a lease termination notice my landlord threw in my face.

I took down the clinic sign my family had passed down for three generations, wrapped it in an old sheet, and locked up.

Back home, I found a business card at the bottom of a drawer and dialed the number on it.

"I'll attend tomorrow's medical conference."

That was all I said. An excited gasp came from the other end.

After I hung up, an unknown number sent me a location.

Two words followed.

"Come here."

There was no explanation, but I could guess who sent it.

I stared at those two words, sneered, and blocked the number without hesitation.

An hour later, someone knocked on my front door.

Several men dressed in black crowded the doorway.

"Mr. Hughes, Miss Dawson would like you to come with us."

I gave a two-word answer.

"Not going."

One of the men shoved me aside and barged in.

His gaze landed on the green-glazed porcelain urn on the table. He casually smashed it on the floor.

Porcelain shards flew, and pale gray powder scattered everywhere.

"Sorry about that." He grinned.

"We're just hired muscle. We don't know any better. If you won't cooperate, Mr. Hughes, more things might get broken by accident."

My whole body tensed. Those were my mother's ashes. I kept them with me for ten years.

I took a deep breath.

"I'll go with you."

When we reached the private dining room, a glass of red wine hit me in the face before I could even see who was inside.

Mason held the empty glass and turned to laugh with the men and women around the table.

"See? I told you! Once he knew Clara was here, he'd come running!"

Everyone at the table laughed and looked me over like something on the menu.

"This is him? He's nothing special."

"A country bumpkin like him is just a novelty. She'd get bored after a few days."

Mason grabbed my collar.

"Everyone gets a punch. Anyone who refuses is disrespecting me."