After Divorce I Married a Tycoon-Chapter 216: Full of Madness

Claire Mercer had no idea that Scarlett Jewel had already incited the Mercer family to harm her in secret.

For the past few days, she carried on as usual, preparing for Saturday’s grand finale.

She and Stella Thorne had been practically inseparable.

They spent their time in a studio they had rented for the competition, discussing the outfits they would design.

They even went shopping for materials together and were rarely seen apart.

On Friday evening, Claire Mercer finally finished making the outfit for the grand finale.

Since she was already very familiar with Stella Thorne’s measurements, it didn’t take too much time.

The finished garment laid out before them still left Stella Thorne breathless.

Twilight slanted through the studio’s glass windows.

It cast a soft halo over the gown, which was studded with fine, shimmering rhinestones.

She caressed the gown, unable to put it down, her eyes filled with awe.

"Claire, when you become a famous designer, you have to design a bunch of beautiful clothes for me."

Claire Mercer’s delicate fingertips brushed over the hand-embroidered interlocking floral patterns on the hem, a faint smile playing on her lips.

She looked up at Stella Thorne and saw her still marveling at the gown...

She couldn’t help but reach out and poke her forehead.

"Of course," she said softly, smiling at Stella Thorne.

"Even if I do become a famous designer, you’ll still be my number one model."

"If I ever get the chance to launch my own fashion show, you’ll definitely be my exclusive head model."

"What do you mean, ’if’?" Stella Thorne corrected her with feigned seriousness. "You *have* to launch your own fashion show."

"Yes, yes, you’re right," Claire Mercer laughed.

"I *have* to launch my own fashion show, and when I do, you’ll be my exclusive head model."

Stella Thorne beamed, her eyes curving into crescents. "You have to keep your word."

"Even if I don’t become a professional model, I still want to be the first one to wear your designs."

"Stella, are you really not planning to be a professional model? You were born for this."

"We’ll see. But between you and me, I actually really enjoy being on stage."

Just as she said that, Stella Thorne’s phone rang.

She took out her phone and saw it was her father.

"It’s my dad."

"Hurry and answer it. It might be something important."

Stella Thorne nodded and stepped aside to take the call.

Meanwhile, Claire Mercer carefully straightened the hems of the gowns before cautiously placing them in garment bags.

A moment later, Stella Thorne returned.

"My dad’s back from abroad. He wants me to come home early for dinner tonight."

As she spoke, her gaze fell back on the gown, and she couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it again.

Hearing this, Claire Mercer laughed. "Stop fussing over this dress."

"It was tailor-made for you, so it’s already yours."

"From now on, you can look at it, wear it, and touch it however you want."

"It’s rare for Uncle Thorne to come back to the country. You should hurry home and have a nice dinner with him."

Stella Thorne snapped out of her daze and hastily hung the gown back in its garment bag.

She hurriedly packed her bag, glancing back to give Claire Mercer a wink.

"I’m heading out then! At the finale tomorrow, I’m going to wear this battle armor you designed and steal the show!"

"Go on, go on," Claire Mercer said with a smile and a wave.

She watched as Stella Thorne rushed out the door, the sound of her footsteps gradually fading down the hallway.

The studio instantly fell quiet, leaving only the deepening twilight outside the window and the faint shimmer of light reflecting off the gowns on the rack.

Claire Mercer let out a long sigh. The tension that had been building for days finally eased a little.

She had been so focused on the competition recently, pouring her entire heart into it.

Although she was confident in her designs, she hadn’t dared to let her guard down for even a moment.

’After tomorrow, I can finally relax a little.’

She walked over to the sink, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on her face.

The icy sensation instantly cleared her tense and muddled mind.

Just then, the phone in her pocket suddenly started to vibrate.

The name flashing on the screen was Adrian Sutton.

Ever since they had kissed that night, her feelings for Adrian Sutton had changed somehow.

She would find herself growing shy and nervous, her heart racing involuntarily.

She could no longer face him as calmly as before; it felt as though someone were gently tugging at her heartstrings.

The memory of their kiss that night would always pop into her head when she least expected it.

And the crisp scent of cedar that clung to him when he was close.

Her head had been spinning at the time, but she clearly remembered that his lips were warm and soft.

The dizzying sensation she had felt the moment their lips touched still made her cheeks burn whenever she thought about it.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the distracting image.

But it was as if her fingertips and palms could still feel the warmth from his face when she’d cupped his cheeks.

Her heart hammered uncontrollably, like a small deer rampaging in her chest.

Her heart stirred. She swiped to answer, and Adrian Sutton’s gentle voice came through the phone.

"Claire, when are you coming home? Do you need me to pick you up?"

Claire Mercer said, "You don’t have to go out of your way to get me. I’m heading back now."

"Alright then. I’ll start cooking now, so the food will be ready when you get home."

"Okay."

"Be safe on your way."

"I will. The studio isn’t far from home, so I’ll be fine."

After hanging up, Claire Mercer finished putting the garment bags on all the outfits, grabbed her purse, and headed out.

She locked the studio door and walked down the hallway to the elevators.

She didn’t know that ever since Stella Thorne had left the studio...

...a dark figure had been watching her from the stairwell on her floor, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The elevator indicator was stopped on the sixteenth floor.

The red number seemed to blur under the stark white light, making her dizzy.

Claire Mercer reached out and pressed the down button, then waited quietly for the elevator to arrive.

She stood alone in the empty hallway as a gust of wind slipped through the crack of the fire escape door.

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she thought she could smell a faint, fleeting trace of smoke in the wind.

Her gaze subconsciously swept over the slightly ajar stairwell door. Something about it being open today felt strange.

That door was usually locked, but for some reason, it was cracked open today.

She didn’t think too much of it, assuming the cleaning staff had forgotten to close it.

The low hum of the ascending elevator grew louder.

Just a second before the car was about to arrive, the stairwell door was suddenly thrown open from the inside!

A dark figure radiating a thick, malevolent aura lunged at her.

Claire Mercer was already highly alert; the scent of smoke from before had put her on guard.

While waiting for the elevator, she had discreetly dialed Adrian Sutton.

But the call hadn’t connected yet, and hurried footsteps suddenly echoed behind her in the hall.

Claire Mercer’s heart sank. She instinctively broke into a run.

Her only option was to run back to the studio and lock the door to buy some time.

But the man was faster. She had only taken a few steps before he gave her a vicious shove from behind.

She fell unexpectedly onto the cold floor, ignoring the pain flaring in her knees...

She struggled to get up, but the man was already standing over her, looking down at her coldly.

He was a tall man dressed in a faded work uniform.

The man was completely covered up, his face hidden by a black mask, revealing only a pair of bloodshot eyes filled with madness and a deep, seething hatred.

She found those hate-filled eyes strangely familiar, but for the moment, she couldn’t place who they belonged to.