Chapter 4I Saved an Heiress but Was Burned Alive. This Time, I Looked Away.

Clara lounged in the middle of the couch and sighed.

"Mason is upset. Just put up with it. He's my future husband, after all. There'll be plenty more days like this. You need to get used to it."

I took a deep breath.

"Did you ever ask whether I wanted this?"

I looked Clara in the eye and spoke slowly and firmly. "I already told you. I want nothing to do with you, and I certainly don't want to be your kept man."

Clara shook her head with a resigned expression.

"Playing hard to get once or twice is enough. Keep it up, and women just get sick of you."

Her tone turned admonishing.

"What you need to learn now is how to please me."

I shoved Mason away.

As he screamed at me, I grabbed a wine bottle from the table and smashed it at his feet.

For a moment, everything went quiet. Then a woman called out.

"He's kind of hot."

I pushed open the door and left without breaking stride.

The next day arrived.

The city's largest conference center was packed for a medical symposium organized by the Clifford International Medical Association.

I sat in the front row.

As I looked down at the rankings sheet, a pair of high heels came into view.

Clara's voice came from above me.

"Didn't I tell you I don't like men showing off in public?"

I looked up into her visibly displeased eyes.

"And you chose an event this big."

A woman in a red evening gown leaned over beside her. "Clara, what's wrong?"

Clara spoke casually.

"Nothing. My man isn't behaving. He just needs to be taught a lesson."

The woman followed Clara's gaze to me.

She froze, then immediately straightened up.

Her tone became so respectful it bordered on reverence. "Mr. Hughes, you're here! You declined so many of our invitations. To have you here today is such..."

She trailed off.

Clara's expression changed.

She finally noticed the name card on my seat.

[Special Guest — Ian Hughes]

She fell silent for a few seconds, then gave a soft laugh.

"I'll give you this."

She bent down.

"You have plenty of tricks. Playing the poor boy determined to make it on his own wasn't enough. Now you're deliberately showing me what you're capable of so I'll think you're different from other men. Is that it?"

Her smile widened, but her eyes stayed cold.

"Unfortunately for you..."

"You don't realize this symposium is organized by Clifford, and the Dawson family has very close ties to them."

She straightened up and beckoned.

The event organizer hurried over.

Clara pointed at me.

"Remove this man from the guest list and blacklist him."

The organizer didn't move.

Neither did I.

Clara's expression shifted.

"What are you waiting for?"

She noticed the people gathered around her were slowly moving away.

They left a ten-foot gap around her.

I smiled.

"Do you know why this international organization is called Clifford?"

I finally spoke, meeting her startled, uncertain gaze.

"Because my grandfather's name is Clifford Hughes."

Someone suddenly pushed open a side door.

An elderly man with a full head of white hair hurried in, a badge identifying him as Clifford's president pinned to his suit.

Clara's mother followed him, looking equally disheveled, her face ashen.

"Mr. Hughes!"

The elderly man hurried up to me and bowed slightly.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

Clara’s mother bent forward in a full ninety-degree bow.