Chapter 220 Chapter 0219

Chapter 220 Chapter 0219
The drive stretched out between them, long and unbearably quiet.
Clark sat in the passenger seat, his posture flawless, gaze distant, lost somewhere past the city lights. His fingers tapped against his knee, slow and deliberate—not nervous, not restless, just… occupying himself.
Adam, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily against the gear shift, kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight. He wasn’t much for talking.
Especially not with Clark.
But the silence was starting to annoy him.
Clark shifted slightly, exhaling through his nose before finally speaking.
"You drive like a criminal."
Adam smirked. Didn’t take his eyes off the road. "I am a criminal."
Clark hummed, unimpressed. "And yet, somehow, I feel like I’m the one committing a crime by being in this car."
Adam scoffed, his smirk growing. "You are. Just a different kind."
Clark shot him a dry glance. "Yes, defending a man in court is exactly the same as whatever illegal nonsense you've done."
Adam chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Ain't the what, lawyer boy. It’s the who."
Clark arched a brow. "Care to elaborate?"
Adam gave a slow shrug. "You think that suit makes you different from the people you defend?"
Clark’s lips curled, slow and cold. "I think it keeps me from ending up in the back of a squad car."
Adam chuckled. "For now."
Clark sighed through his nose, turning back toward the window. "You must be a joy at parties."
Adam smirked. "Oh, I am."
A pause.
Then—Clark adjusted his cuffs. "Ever been to one that didn’t end in a police report?"
Adam let out a low, amused hum. "Wouldn’t be much of a party if it didn’t."
Clark shook his head, muttering something under his breath, before falling quiet again.
But Adam wasn’t done yet.
He tilted his head slightly, glancing at Clark. "You always this stiff, or is that just ‘cause I’m here?"

Clark didn’t turn his head. "Do you always talk this much, or is that just because I'm not indulging you?"
Adam grinned. "Oh, so you do notice."
Clark’s fingers stopped tapping. He let out a sharp, measured breath before finally looking at Adam.
"You find this amusing, don’t you?"
Adam’s smirk didn’t waver. "A little."
Clark huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Glad to know I provide some form of entertainment."
Adam leaned back slightly, fingers drumming against the wheel. "Life’s too short not to enjoy the little things."
Clark turned his gaze forward again, his expression unreadable. "Some of us don’t have the luxury of enjoying things, MacDougall."
Adam considered that.
Considered the tightness in Clark’s tone, the way his fingers curled slightly into his pant leg.
And, for once, he didn’t push.
The rest of the drive carried on in silence.
But this time—it wasn’t quite as empty.
When they arrived at their destination, Clark stepped out first.
Adam followed, eyes sweeping up the building in front of them.
Tall. Expensive. Too perfect. Too polished.
Adam let out a low, unimpressed exhale. "Figures."
Clark didn’t respond. Didn’t even glance at him.
He simply walked forward, as if returning to a place that never quite felt like his.
Adam didn’t rush. Didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t press. He just followed, stepping inside after him.
The hushed quiet of the building pressed in from all sides—cold, pristine, suffocating in its silence.
Adam followed Clark through the immaculate lobby, eyes flicking from the polished floors to the elevator at the far end.
Finally, something normal. They passed the front desk without so much as a glance. Clark moved with that same effortless calm, as if he were walking through a museum exhibit, untouched by the weight of the world around him.
Adam exhaled slowly. He already hated this place.
They reached the stairwell landing.
Clark pushed open the door. Stepped inside.
Adam followed—for now.
The first two flights were fine. Annoying, but fine.
Clark climbed with measured, controlled steps, his rhythm unchanging, his breathing perfectly even.
Adam let it slide. For now.
By the time they reached the third floor, Adam glanced around before finally muttering, "Where the hell are we goin’?"
Clark didn’t pause, didn’t falter.
"Tenth floor."
Adam stopped walking.
Stared at him. Felt his brain short-circuit.
"The fuck you mean, tenth floor?"
Clark, still steadily moving upward, replied without turning back. "Exactly what I said."
Adam inhaled very, very slowly.
Then gestured—wildly—at everything around them, "Did I—or did I not—just see a fully functional goddamn elevator back there?"
Clark hummed, his voice maddeningly smooth. "You did."
Adam blinked. Once. Twice.
Then exhaled sharply.
"And yet." His voice was dangerously even. "We are here."
Clark finally glanced over his shoulder. "Correct."
Adam’s jaw clenched. His hands flexed at his sides, "...Is this some rich-boy fitness routine? A personal grudge against logic? You losin’ a bet I don’t know about?"
Clark didn’t humor him.
Didn’t slow, didn’t explain.
He simply turned his gaze forward again and kept climbing.
Adam let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"Oh, no. No. Don’t ignore me, you lunatic. You—" he pointed aggressively, "—are outta your goddamn mind."
Clark’s voice remained infuriatingly even. "Are you capable of taking the stairs without complaining, or is that too much for you?"
Adam’s eye twitched, "You son of a—" He cut himself off, dragging a hand down his face.
This wasn’t happening.
This wasn’t fucking happening.
For a solid three seconds, Adam considered turning around.
Going back down. Taking the elevator. Being the sane one for once in his goddamn life.
But then—Clark would win.
And Adam would rather suffer than let that happen.
So, with a sharp inhale, a deep well of regret, and a thousand silent curses, Adam stomped after him.
Muttering under his breath.
Swearing vengeance.
And ignoring the growing burn in his legs.
By the time they reached the top, Adam wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Clark or himself for going along with this.
Clark didn’t slow. Didn’t acknowledge Adam’s suffering.
He simply walked down the hall, pushed open the door, and stepped inside like he owned the place.
Adam followed—and immediately regretted it.
The air shifted.
Everything in this place was too clean, too perfect, too polished.
The furniture was arranged with precise intent. The lighting was warm but devoid of comfort. The silence sat too heavy in the air.
Clark disappeared down the hallway without a word, leaving Adam standing in the middle of the pristine, coldly perfect living room.
Adam didn’t move. Didn’t sit.
Everything about this place made his skin itch—too clean, too precise, too damn quiet.
He exhaled sharply, already regretting this entire trip.
Then—a voice. Soft. Feminine. Curious.
"Oh."
Adam turned his head as a woman entered the room.
Mid-thirties. Blonde. Sharp brown eyes.
Her features were familiar in a way that made his brain immediately connect the dots—Clark’s sister.
She looked at him.
Then, her eyes lit up, "Oh my God."
Adam’s shoulders stiffened.
She took a step closer, studying him with undeniable amusement.
And then—with absolute certainty— "You’re his new boyfriend, aren’t you?"
Adam froze.
Stared.
Blinking once. Twice.
Then—his body tensed, "What?” His voice came out flat. Empty.