Psycho villain I Raised Wants to Marry Me-Chapter285 – A bit messy here

Psycho villain I Raised Wants to Marry Me-Chapter285 – A bit messy here

The next day, Clarissa changed into the outfit she had prepared the night before.
Abyss immediately tried to follow her out.
“No,” Clarissa said firmly, blocking the door. “Be a good boy and stay home today. I’ll bring you something delicious when I get back.”
Abyss whimpered loudly in protest, frantically biting the hem of her skirt, crimson-gold eyes glistening.
Clarissa hesitated. “I’m going to a restaurant… Abyss, be good and wait for me at home, okay?”
She bent down and kissed its forehead, coaxing it gently for a long time before it finally released her skirt.
When Clarissa went downstairs, she immediately saw the black car parked at the entrance of the complex—and the man leaning casually against it.
He was so striking that everything around him seemed to fade into the background. Passersby couldn’t help but stop and look.
Clarissa hurried over. “Sorry, I just finished settling Abyss. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It’s fine.”
She was looking at him—at the same moment, Atticus was looking at her.
She wasn’t wearing makeup, but he instantly noticed how different she looked today. The soft lines of her skirt, the delicate lace, the subtle elegance… it hit him hard.
Heat surged violently through his body.
His gaze burned. Desire coiled sharply in his gut.
He used every ounce of self-control to force his eyes away.
On the surface, he remained composed as he turned and opened the passenger door for her. Clarissa quickly got in.
.....
The restaurant was just as popular as she’d imagined. A long queue stretched out the door.
Atticus walked to her side and said softly, “Come on.”
“Mmm.” Clarissa followed him, staying just one step behind—neither too far nor too close.
His hands clenched slightly at his sides.
It took several deep breaths to suppress the overwhelming urge to reach out and take her hand.
Seated, Atticus picked up the menu and turned to her. “What would you like to eat, Miss Clarissa?”
“Anything is fine. You decide.”
He ordered several dishes and handed the menu back to the waiter.
The soup arrived quickly. Clarissa took a sip, and that familiar, comforting flavor warmed her from the inside out.
......
After the meal, Clarissa assumed he would drive her straight home.
Instead, he turned in the opposite direction.
She blinked in confusion. “Dr. Atticus?”
“We’re not going back yet. Miss Clarissa, we’re moving on to the next phase of your treatment.”
“The next phase?”
Before she could ask more, Atticus pulled the car to a stop.
“Shopping for clothes.”
Seeing her puzzled look, he explained patiently, “You usually dress in dark colors—mostly black and white. Just like in your dreams. These past few years, have you been avoiding contact with strangers?”
“Yes.” Clarissa nodded.
“You’re young and beautiful. Dressing brightly is also a form of emotional expression.”
As a woman, being subtly told she didn’t care about her appearance stirred an inexplicable frustration. She couldn’t help defending herself.
“I wasn’t always like this.”
She used to care a great deal about how she looked. It was only after she became ill that she gradually changed.
“You misunderstand,” Atticus said gently. “A woman like you can captivate anyone even without dressing up. I simply want you to be happier. It will help your condition.”
Clarissa nodded. “I understand. Let’s go.”
......
This was Clarissa’s first time shopping with a man she barely knew.
Atticus carefully selected clothes for her. In no time, his arms were filled with four or five outfits.
He handed the pile to her. “Try these on.”
Clarissa glanced at them—all bright, vivid colors. She took them obediently and went into the fitting room.
She tried on each one in turn and finally chose the most conservative option—a light purple dress.
When she pushed open the door, Atticus was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through the store’s tablet. His long, slender fingers slid across the screen. Each item was displayed beside a perfectly posed mannequin.
Hearing the sound, he looked up.
Clarissa stepped out.
She was beautiful—but something felt missing.
She studied herself, puzzled. “Dr. Atticus… is something wrong?”
“Why did you choose this one?” he asked calmly, then added before she could answer, “Because it’s the most conservative of them all. Am I right?”
Clarissa parted her lips, unsure what to say.
Atticus set the tablet aside and handed her a red dress instead.
“Put this on.”
Clarissa took it and hurried back into the fitting room.
Only after she changed did she realize— Something was wrong with this dress.
The dress was a halter style, the back secured by delicate ribbons tied into a soft bow. Aside from that fragile knot, her entire back was bare, and a narrow slit ran up the skirt. Clarissa stared at her reflection in the mirror, momentarily lost.
A knock sounded behind her.
“Miss Clarissa, are you ready?” Atticus’s voice came from outside the curtain.
Startled, she answered instinctively, “Yes… I’m ready.”
“May I come in?”
Clarissa hesitated again. Before she could reply, the curtain was lifted and Atticus stepped inside. The shop assistants, assuming they were a couple, paid no attention.
The moment he entered, the already narrow space seemed to shrink. Even the air felt thinner.
“Atti—Dr. Atticus…” Clarissa took an unconscious step back.
With a single glance, the fire he had forcibly suppressed reignited violently.
His body—dormant for two years—was instantly awakened.
Just as beautiful as he had imagined.
The beast inside him roared. A powerful hunger surged through his blood, an intense longing to personally untie those silk ribbons, to see what lay beneath her snow-white skin, to claim that breathtaking beauty for himself.
His gaze locked onto her, dark and scorching. His voice came out slightly hoarse.
“So beautiful…”
He stepped forward abruptly and pulled her closer. His fingers reached out and untied the ribbon in her hair, letting her long locks fall freely over her back. Then he guided her toward the mirror.
“Look at yourself,” he murmured. “You truly suit red. Miss Clarissa… you can be more honest with yourself. Feel yourself.”
His voice was low and magnetic, once clean and youthful, now threaded with huskiness—like the deep, intoxicating notes of a cello.
Clarissa was drawn in without realizing it.
In the mirror, the woman before her had long, softly curled hair cascading to her waist. The crimson dress hugged her curves perfectly, outlining a figure both elegant and irresistibly seductive.
In all these years, she had never seen herself like this.
Noble and distant, yet breathtakingly alluring.
Like the most delicate begonia in full bloom.
Like the wildest, freest wind.
He loved everything about her—her untainted purity, her gentle softness, her quiet strength. He loved every inch of her.
He wanted her desperately.
He wanted that begonia to bloom for him alone.
Both of them were immersed in their own worlds—especially Clarissa. She stood still, barely even noticing when his hand brushed against her waist.
In the mirror, the two of them stood side by side. He was strikingly handsome; the faint medicinal scent from him lingered in the air. His body heat seemed to seep through the thin fabric and into her skin.
Her heart began to race uncontrollably.
Their breathing grew shallow.
Their bodies drifted closer.
In the confined space, with thinning air and restrained desire unraveling, Atticus finally lost control. Clarissa’s red lips were like petals in full bloom, inviting him closer.
He slowly lowered his head.
Clarissa watched his face draw nearer, her breath growing heavier. She wanted to move—but her body was frozen. All she could feel was his warm breath against her skin.
Ring—
The sudden sound of her phone shattering the silence.
The spell broke.
Clarissa’s dazed gaze cleared instantly, and she now looked directly at him. Atticus exhaled softly, forcing himself back to reason. He gently brushed a strand of hair aside.
“It’s a bit messy here,” he said quietly.
He carefully adjusted her hair and stepped back. “Take another look, Miss Clarissa.”
The phone rang again.
She turned and rummaged in her bag. It was Whitney’s agent.
“Miss Clarissa! Whitney… she attempted suicide!”
“What?” Clarissa’s eyes widened, her expression turning icy and composed in an instant. “I’m coming right away. Tell me everything on the way.”
Work always made her unnaturally calm.
She ended the call and looked at Atticus. “I’m sorry, Dr. Atticus.”
“It’s fine. Work comes first,” he replied. “I’ll go outside. I’ll take you there.”
“Thank you.”
The moment he left, Clarissa hurriedly changed back into her own clothes. She grabbed her bag, then looked at the red dress beside her—and without hesitation, took it.
“I’ll take this one.”
“Of course, miss. Would you like to look at anything else?”
She shook her head. “No. This is enough. Please wrap it up—I’m in a hurry.”
After paying, she rushed to the underground parking lot with the shopping bag in hand. Sitting in the car, she dialed Whitney’s agent again.
Then she turned to Atticus. “Dr. Atticus… could you do me a favor?”
“As long as it’s within my power, I’ll do everything I can.”
Her breath caught. She abruptly turned away, gripping her phone tighter.
“Thank you…”
At the hospital, Whitney’s agent was already waiting at the entrance, pacing anxiously. The moment she saw Clarissa, it was as if she had found her lifeline.
“Miss Clarissa, you’re finally here! Whitney… she might not make it…” The agent hurriedly explained what had happened, clutching at Clarissa’s sleeve in panic.
Clarissa’s expression grew grave. “Calm down.”
She turned to Atticus. “Dr. Atticus, thank you for your help.”
He nodded and went straight to the operating room. After identifying himself, the staff immediately let him in.
“Miss Clarissa, she is—”
“He is…” Clarissa paused, then steadied herself. “Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”
They waited outside for nearly an hour before the operating room doors finally opened.
Atticus was the first to come out. He had just washed his hands; a faint scent of disinfectant still clung to him.
Clarissa rushed forward. “How is she?”
Atticus gave her a small, reassuring smile. “She’s stable. Out of danger.”
Her manager let out a long, trembling breath of relief and bowed repeatedly. “Thank God… thank you so much, Dr. Atticus…”
Atticus barely spared her a glance. His attention remained on Clarissa. “She’ll be fine through the night. Are you staying?”
Clarissa nodded. “Yes. I’ll leave after she’s completely safe.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
She hesitated. “Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?”
“It’s fine. If anything happens, I can handle it immediately.”
“Thank you, Dr. Atticus…”
“It’s nothing,” he said lightly, then added, “If you really want to thank me, cook me another meal sometime.”
The tension finally broke. Clarissa laughed, her nerves easing at last. Without thinking, she nodded. “Alright. I’ll make you a proper feast next time.”
At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Clarissa looked up and saw Wesley rushing toward them in casual clothes. Her face was flushed, sweat beading on her forehead, her breathing uneven.
“Miss Clarissa! How is Whitney?”

Chapter285 – A bit messy here