My Substitute Bride Wasn't Supposed to Bite

Chapter 7 It's over!

　　"That girl actually dared to mess with you? Gutsy," Ethan said with a smirk, clearly intrigued.

　　"I'll find out who owns that car. And once I do... want me to hand her over to you?"

　　"Don't bother," Theodore replied flatly.

　　"Huh... okay." Ethan found that odd but didn't push.

　　Clarice pulled her hand back, gripped the wheel, and shot toward the finish line with a victorious grin.

　　She knew she had this race in the bag.

　　The prize money—yeah, it was all hers.

　　The weight sitting on her shoulders finally felt a little lighter, and she actually let out a laugh.

　　Meanwhile, Chloe had gone pale and silent.

　　"What's wrong?" Clarice eased off the gas slightly, glancing at her in confusion.

　　That little stunt back there? Compared to the stuff they'd been through before, it was nothing. Chloe shouldn't be this shaken up.

　　Chloe was staring at her phone, her face drained of color.

　　"Relax, Chloe. The car's fine. Not a scratch," Clarice said, assuming Chloe was worried about the car—after all, it belonged to her brother, and explaining any damage would've been a nightmare.

　　"It's not that," Chloe said quietly, voice tight.

　　"Clarice... that car back there—it was Theodore's."

　　"Theodore's," Clarice repeated, the word feeling foreign on her adrenaline-numbed tongue. Then, like a bucket of ice water, understanding crashed down.

　　She slammed the brakes.

　　"Wait—what? Theodore?!"

　　Panic surged through her. She snatched Chloe's phone and stared at the screen, frozen in disbelief.

　　There it was—a photo of a sleek, limited-edition Porsche. The caption confirmed it:

　　Only one in all of Velmont. Owned by none other than Theodore Grant.

　　"There's no way that was him... right?"

　　Chloe nodded.

　　"Pretty sure it was."

　　He'd been driving too fast for her to get a clear look at first, but when the car slowed down, she'd checked. Combined with what she found online, there was no doubt—it was him.

　　"We're screwed."

　　"We didn't just make him crash... we flipped him off."

　　Clarice's earlier excitement vanished. All she could think now was: she was dead.

　　If Theodore found out the "sweet, obedient" girl he married was actually the wild thing who just made him crash a Porsche?

　　She was done for. He'd probably kick her out and send her straight back to the Sullivans.

　　And once Charles realized she was no longer useful, there was no telling what he'd do to Sophia.

　　Seeing the panic on her face, Chloe tried to calm her down.

　　"Don't freak out. You had makeup on, a wig, sunglasses... He probably didn't recognize you."

　　"Maybe we should just skip the award ceremony and head home?"

　　Clarice looked like she was about to cry.

　　Forget the prize money—she had no choice.

　　She couldn't risk giving Theodore even a sliver of recognition.

　　She had to get back to the Grant estate.

　　In the car, Clarice changed quickly into her "good girl" disguise—a white lace tea dress, modest and sweet.

　　As she got out and walked toward the house, Chloe shook her head in disbelief.

　　Looks could be deceiving.

　　Clarice might look like a soft, innocent girl on the outside, but deep down, she was a full-on wildcat.

　　And Theodore? The man actually believed her act.

　　Hopefully... he hadn't recognized her today.

　　Clarice greeted Mr. Chambers on her way in and went straight upstairs.

　　Aside from her, only Mr. Chambers and a few housekeepers lived in the mansion.

　　Since Theodore was rarely home, Clarice often slipped out under the excuse of visiting classmates.

　　Mr. Chambers never questioned her.

　　Compared to the Sullivan estate, this place gave her a kind of freedom she desperately needed.

　　She stepped into her room, and the fluffy Samoyed followed close behind.

　　"Snowy," she said, sitting by the window and glancing down at the white dog curled up beside her.

　　"Do you think your master recognized me today?"

　　Her mind was a mess. She kept staring outside, anxious she might miss the sound of Theodore's car returning.

　　Snowy looked up at her, let out a small whine, then flopped onto the floor.

　　"So... you don't know either, huh?" she murmured.

　　She was used to talking to herself.

　　Back at the Sullivan estate, Sophia was the only one who ever really listened.

　　At least here, she had a dog.

　　"If he did recognize me... he'd be furious, wouldn't he?"

　　"He'd think I lied to him. That I tricked him."

　　"But really... I didn't have a choice. I was never the sweet, obedient girl he wanted. I just pretended to be. If I didn't, Charles would've taken it out on Sophia."

　　Sophia had always protected her.

　　Now it was her turn to protect Sophia.

　　"God..." she sighed.

　　"I don't even know when I'll be able to get her out of that place."

　　Clarice could leave the Sullivan family easily enough.

　　She could work, survive on her own. She wasn't helpless.

　　But Sophia was different. Her health had been unstable for years. Clarice couldn't care for her alone.

　　And Charles would never let her go.

　　Clarice gently patted Snowy's head.

　　"Let's hope your master has bad eyesight."

　　She waited by the window for a long time, eventually dozing off on the carpet—completely unaware that Theodore had already returned.

　　He opened the bedroom door and immediately saw them—two white figures curled up by the glass.

　　One girl. One dog.

　　Both fast asleep by the window.

　　And for a moment... he couldn't help but remember a girl who once said she wanted to be his wife.

　　And that she'd wait for him, every night, until he came home.