Chapter140 Don't Let Me Catch You Lying to Me
Three days passed in a flash.
Clifton looked at the messages on his phone. Miranda had lunch and dinner with Harrison every single day, without missing once.
The man let out a cold, self-mocking laugh.
His wife in name was cozying up to her ex-husband. Did she think he was dead?
Fine. Just fine!
Evening.
The Prescott estate showed not a single light in the darkness.
Miranda frowned as she returned from outside, her heart sinking.
Usually at this hour, even if no one was in the living room, the entryway sconce would be left on. But today, the entire house was dark as if ready to swallow her whole.
She wondered if the power was out for maintenance.
Without thinking too much about it, she changed her shoes from memory and felt her way up the stairs using the handrail.
The moment she pushed open the master bedroom door, an intense, choking tobacco smell hit her face.
"Cough, cough..."
Miranda's throat itched from the smoke. She instinctively covered her nose and mouth.
In the darkness, a spot of crimson fire flickered on and off from the single sofa by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
That red glow seemed especially eerie in the pitch-black room, carrying an indescribable oppressive feeling.
Miranda squinted, taking a while to adjust before she could barely make out the silhouette sitting on the sofa.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs stretched out casually, spine against the sofa back. The entire figure nearly melted into the darkness.
It was Clifton.
"You're home?"
Miranda breathed a sigh of relief, waving away the smoke in front of her as she fumbled toward the window. "Why aren't the lights on? Or the window open? It's kind of suffocating in here."
As she spoke, she reached out and pulled open the heavy curtains with a swish, then pushed open the window.
Night wind rushed in, dispersing some of the smoke smell but unable to clear the oppressive atmosphere.
"Are you in a bad mood? Why smoke so much?"
Miranda turned around, her tone carrying some concern.
She remembered that while Clifton did smoke, he wasn't heavily addicted. She rarely saw him chain-smoking like this.
No one answered.
That crimson spot brightened once more before being stubbed out in the ashtray.
Seeing his silence, Miranda assumed he'd encountered some work troubles. She didn't take it to heart and turned to fumble for the light switch on the wall.
"Click."
A crisp sound.
Blinding white light instantly flooded the entire room.
Miranda instinctively closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she muttered, "So the power's not out. Why were you sitting in the dark? Kind of creepy..."
Her words cut off abruptly.
Because she met a pair of eyes.
Clifton sat there in a black tactical T-shirt, the collar slightly open, revealing his hard collarbone.
He wasn't looking out the window or anywhere else. Those bloodshot eyes were staring straight at her.
His gaze was heavy, bottomless.
Like the sea before a storm—calm on the surface, but underneath, currents strong enough to tear a person apart.
Miranda's heart clenched under that stare. The man's oppressive presence hit her again, making her instinctively want to flee.
"Why... why are you looking at me like that?"
She couldn't help backing up a step, her back hitting the cold windowsill.
Clifton said nothing.
His mind was full of the messages he'd received on his phone.
Heh.
She was out happily having meals with her ex-husband, but when she came home to face him, this was how she acted—cautious, always ready to run?
Clifton felt the fire in his chest about to explode.
He slowly stood up.
His tall frame cast a shadow in the light, directly enveloping Miranda within it.
One step.
Two steps.
The sound of his boots hitting the floor was deep and forceful, each step like it was landing on Miranda's heart.
Miranda started to panic.
Clifton had been too abnormal these past few days. Abnormal to the point of being a stranger.
"Clifton, what's wrong with you..."
Before she finished speaking, a sudden force grabbed her chin.
Clifton's hand—rough with calluses from years of handling weapons—gripped her chin without mercy, forcing her to lift her head and look directly into his eyes.
The pressure was strong, painfully so.
"Miranda."
The man's voice was extremely hoarse, as if filled with gravel, as if suppressing some emotion on the verge of exploding.
"Tomorrow. Are you free to have dinner together?"
Miranda froze.
Dinner?
She instinctively shook her head. "Tomorrow's not good..."
The promise of a month with Harrison had only been three days.
Clifton's eyes instantly turned colder, his fingers on her chin tightening slightly.
He laughed coldly, his tone carrying mockery. "What about the day after?"
"The day after... probably not either." Miranda forced the words out.
She wanted to finish the promise with Harrison quickly. Once the month ended, she didn't want any more contact with Harrison whatsoever.
"Not either?"
Clifton repeated, his tone rising with a bone-chilling coldness.
She was rejecting him for that man.
Again and again.
Heh. These three days, he'd been like a fool, turning down the team's celebration dinner, waiting for her to celebrate with him.
And her?
She was having dinner dates with Harrison.
"Miranda, do you think I'm easygoing?"
Clifton suddenly leaned close, their noses nearly touching, breaths mingling, but without any intimacy.
Miranda looked at the man's approaching face, wondering why Clifton was so obsessed with having dinner these past two days.
In that instant, she hesitated. Maybe... postpone Harrison by a day?
"Hiss..."
Sharp pain suddenly shot through her chin.
Clifton's fingers tightened abruptly, as if to crush her bones.
Miranda gasped from the pain, tears instantly welling up from the physical reaction. "Clifton, you're hurting me!"
"Who are you thinking about?"
Clifton's eyes were bloodshot, like an enraged lion.
Just now, she'd actually zoned out in front of him!
He was interrogating her, and she was thinking about someone else? Was she thinking about how to make up lies? Or thinking about which restaurant to meet Harrison at tomorrow?
That feeling of being ignored, of being deceived, instantly crushed his rationality.
"Miranda, you'd better not let me catch you lying to me or betraying me."
Every word was squeezed out through clenched teeth.
Carrying a bone-chilling coldness.
Miranda was forced to tilt her head back, eyes slightly reddened, feeling both wronged and angry.
This man was completely unreasonable!
When had she lied to him? When had she betrayed him?
But looking at Clifton's eyes that seemed ready to devour her, Miranda swallowed back the sharp words on the tip of her tongue.
She didn't want to fight.
Especially not in this inexplicable situation.
"I haven't."
Miranda looked directly into his eyes, enunciating each word. "I haven't lied to you, and I haven't betrayed you."
Clifton stared at her intently.
As if trying to find a trace of panic or guilt in those clear eyes.
But there was none.
She was so forthright it made him feel like an unreasonable clown.