She was drugged

A magnificent mansion, elegantly adorned bedrooms, and a graceful Claire Davis gazing at her refined reflection in the mirror on the dressing table. Her features were delicate, and her eyes were as dark as black grapes, brimming with vitality.

Claire silently observed her own reflection for a while before standing up. Dressed in a light blue sweetheart neckline gown, she descended the staircase slowly.

Today was her mother's wedding, and she was the bridesmaid. As she turned the corner of the staircase platform, pacing back and forth, Claire collided with the groomsman—her new stepbrother and her stepfather's eldest son, Lysander.

"Hello, brother," she greeted softly. However, upon just one glance at Lysander's handsome face framed by the deep blue suit and his icy sharp gaze, Claire didn't dare linger on his indifferent expression.

Lysander looked at Claire with indifference. Standing there so quietly and obediently, her young face made him feel that she was adorable. Her aura was so innocent, pure, and transparent. It made one want to destroy her.

However, the cold man did not respond to her. As they were about to pass each other in the narrow staircase, Lysander halted.

"Don't call me brother. You have no right to be my sister," he said coldly, not even bothering to look at her. Standing on the same step as her, his voice was chilling, as if it pierced through to the bone. Claire's long eyelashes quivered as she lowered her head even further.

She knew that her stepfather's children had no warmth for her.

After a brief exchange, Lysander went upstairs, while Claire remained on the stairs, motionless for a long time. She watched his tall and upright figure almost disappear from view before lifting her eyes.

With just one glance, his figure vanished around the staircase platform. Even from behind, this man exuded a daunting aura of danger.

The wedding proceeded smoothly...

The intimate post-wedding gathering was primarily composed of the stepfather's friends and core family circle. Later in the evening, the younger crowd clamored to continue the revelry. As the daughter of the bride, Claire found it challenging to refuse their invitation to the Empire Club, the city's most fashionable nightspot.

Sitting in the luxurious private lounge, Claire observed the enchanting revelers drinking and joking. She was isolated in a corner of the Chesterfield sofa, feeling distinctly out of place.

In this rarefied environment, her patience wore thin in less than ten minutes, but her status prevented her from leaving early. When the waiter brought more drinks, she requested a glass of still water. He blinked in surprise, then walked away, returning with a cup of lukewarm water placed in front of her.

Claire had no interest in strong spirits. She drank a sip of water without hesitation.

Shona Howard, the captivating dark-haired beauty sitting on the opposite sofa, noticed this and tossed her chocolate-colored curls. She leaned toward Claire with an insinuating look, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

Feeling bored, Claire continued to drink water. Before she could finish half of it, she sensed something was wrong.

Her body inexplicably heated up, a hot unease burning from her core to her waist.

Claire's breathing became increasingly rapid, her brows furrowing as an unsettling thought emerged.

Seeing the glass, she quickly set it down as if it had scalded her.

What had just happened?

Why was she feeling so hot? Was she drugged like her friend – had someone put something in her drink?

But this wasn't a suspicious club that would raise customers' suspicions. How could something like that happen to her here?

Glancing around the crowd, others were still engaged in lively revelry, and no one seemed to particularly notice her.

Gradually, a dizzy and nauseous sensation set in. As Claire lowered her head to massage her temples, she failed to notice Shona making an almost imperceptible signal to a man nearby.

Though Jason continued to flirt with two other girls, he covertly kept an eye on Claire. Seeing Shona's gaze, he set down his drink and casually walked over to Claire.

He sat on the sofa beside her, flashing a charming smile. "Claire Davis, right? Jason Howard. Nice to meet you."

The unexpected symptoms combined with Jason's surprisingly friendly approach immediately heightened Claire's caution. She remained expressionless, giving him a cold look. "Hello."

"You look flushed. Are you feeling unwell?" Jason looked at her reddened complexion with genuine concern. He took her hand and said, "Come on, let me take you to a quiet place to rest."

His caring words masked his firm stance, allowing no room for objection.

The sudden gesture made Claire's gaze waver for a moment. As she stumbled against him, an unimaginable desire surged from within.

She shook her head abruptly, pushing Jason away with all her strength, fleeing from the lounge.

She had to go home. She couldn't go out with a stranger – especially a man.

After regaining his balance, Jason was surprised to find that she had the capacity to reject him. Seeing her leave, he snapped out of his astonishment and chased after her.

As Claire rushed out, her steps became increasingly unsteady, and she collided with a solid chest.

Lysander had accompanied Claire from the mansion to the club, but he had different plans for the night and didn't attend the private lounge gathering. Walking down the corridor, he was caught off guard when something suddenly collided with him. An expression of annoyance flickered across his face, and reflexively, he tried to push the obstruction away.

In a pink dress, under dim lighting, Claire's cheeks took on a rosy hue. She looked like a tempting, ripe peach, irresistibly inviting. Lysander recognized her, and his partially raised hand came to a halt.

Claire was already dizzy, and this new impact further intensified her disorientation. Looking up into Lysander's icy eyes, her eyelashes trembled slightly. The dizziness seemed to alleviate a bit as she whispered, "Brother..."

Claire blinked her hazy obsidian eyes, focusing on his face. Seeing that it was Lysander, she breathed a sigh of relief. She grabbed the front of his shirt with a small finger, holding onto him tightly like a lifeline.

"Brother, save me!"

She was too hot... unbearably so.

Even if he found her presence intolerable, wouldn't he intervene when his stepmother's daughter was in distress?

As soon as Jason stepped out of the lounge, he spotted Claire clinging to another man. Though initially dismissive, he shuddered upon realizing the man's identity.

Why was Lysander Hayward here? Wasn't he supposed to be absent from tonight's gathering?

Lysander gave Jason a cold glance, then surveyed Claire's pitiful state as she clung to his shirt. She looked up at him with a worried expression, her cheeks flushed.

Her complexion was suspiciously reddened, and beneath the shirt, he could sense an unnatural warmth from her small hand. Lysander squinted, a realization dawning upon him.

Jason still employed this tactic when dealing with women.

Upon seeing Jason, Claire instinctively leaned closer to Lysander. "Save me, brother..." she pleaded, her lips quivering intensely.

Although Claire was unfamiliar with this kind of lounge, she remained sensible, understanding the gravity of her situation.

Claire had never met Jason Howard before tonight. His malicious agenda against her was utterly incomprehensible.

Deprived of strength, if Lysander refused to intervene now, she would be unable to escape a dreadful fate tonight.

Claire's desperate plea visibly weakened Jason's arrogance, replaced by evident anxiety.

Though Lysander was only a few years older, his terrifying reputation for brutal retribution was well-known in these circles. Jason dared not meet his gaze, his eyes nervously darting around.

Damn Shona Howard! She had assured him that Lysander harbored no affection for his new stepsister.

Between Claire's pitiful expression and Jason's tense posture, Lysander finally placed his hand on her trembling shoulder.

But instead of protectively pulling her into his arms, he forcefully threw her to the floor.

For a moment, Claire felt a world-spinning dizziness. Due to the violent impact, she lost her sense of direction, barely registering the pain in her body.

Her dazed eyes remained clear, like crystal pools, unbelievably looking up at Lysander's towering figure.

He stood beside her coldly, like an untouchable sovereign, not even bothering to cast a glance her way.

From his sharply defined, stern features and the icy orbs radiating danger, Claire unmistakably read Lysander's disdain and repulsion toward her.

Her half-brother despised her.

A chill crawled up her heart. Claire quickly averted her gaze, attempting to conceal the pain in her eyes.

Her stepfather willingly married her mother without coercion. Neither she nor her mother had any intention regarding the Hayward wealth. Would Lysander truly stand indifferently by and watch her get hurt?

As if confirming Claire's most pessimistic suspicion, Lysander walked past her with indifference, his steps graceful as if nothing had happened.