Chapter 917: Chapter 917 Language
But Carrie’s mom smoothed it away quickly, composing herself behind a polite smile.
She found Ross and Carrie sitting close together, their laughter spilling freely as they shared a private joke, their heads almost touching.
The earlier tension at the table seemed to have melted away entirely, replaced by a warmth that both comforted and unsettled her.
"Sorry about my husband," Carrie’s mom said softly, her voice carrying the practiced grace of a wife long accustomed to such nights.
"He’s never been good with wine."
"There’s no need to apologize, Alexa," Ross replied smoothly, his gaze lingering on her just a moment longer than necessary.
He lifted his glass and drained it in a single, confident swallow, the sound of the empty vessel meeting the table sharp and final.
"These kinds of drinks aren’t good for the body anyway. The less Russell indulges, the better his health will be in the long run."
Carrie laughed lightly, touched by Ross’s composure. "See, Mom? He’s not like Dad. He can handle his liquor."
Alexa’s smile faltered for only a breath before returning.
Ross was different, yes—steady, composed, with a presence that commanded attention even in a simple family gathering.
The way he held his wine without wavering, the way he spoke with ease... it was a striking contrast to the husband she had just dragged upstairs, reeking of alcohol and weakness.
The two women in the family could not help but compare the two men.
The conversation lingered on after that.
They spoke of lighter things—Carrie’s childhood memories, Alexa’s garden, even some of Ross’s stories, told with just the right balance of charm and confidence to keep both women entertained.
Time slipped by unnoticed until the clock neared midnight, and Ross finally rose to leave.
He embraced Carrie lightly, his hand lingering at her waist, his lips brushing her cheek.
She looked at him as though the rest of the world had disappeared, her heart clearly lost to him.
Alexa watched from the side, her smile intact but her thoughts conflicted, her eyes betraying the faintest glimmer of something she didn’t want to admit.
When Ross stepped out into the night, the cool air met his skin like a refreshing promise.
A small smirk curved his lips as he adjusted his jacket and walked into the darkness.
Tonight had been a success—Carrie was his, officially and undeniably.
He had claimed her heart and secured her loyalty, and her father’s objections, dulled by wine, would only weaken with time.
But Ross’s ambitions did not end there.
Throughout the evening, he had noticed the subtle signs—the way Alexa’s gaze lingered just a second too long, the softness in her tone when she addressed him, the weariness in her eyes that her smile tried to conceal.
He had seen the cracks in her composure, the quiet loneliness hidden beneath the role of a dutiful wife.
And now, Ross had set his sights on her as well.
He walked away from the house with a predator’s patience, his mind already spinning with possibilities.
Alexa would be harder to win than Carrie—older, cautious, bound by duty and years of habit.
But Ross thrived on challenges.
He would bide his time, build the moments carefully, and weave himself into her world until she could no longer resist.
Carrie was his victory. Alexa would be his conquest.
And Ross, smiling to himself beneath the moonlight, relished the thought of claiming both mother and daughter.
***
Monday arrived, and Carrie went about her routine as usual.
She boarded the train with her books tucked against her chest, her hair falling naturally over her shoulders, and when she stepped onto campus the familiar ripple of attention followed her.
Heads turned, whispers passed, and eyes lingered—Carrie had grown accustomed to it, though she never let it swell her pride.
Even dressed in her modest fashion—a simple long-sleeved blouse and a pair of baggy jeans—her beauty couldn’t be hidden.
Her angelic face, delicate as if sculpted from light itself, was more than enough to capture the admiration of her peers.
She wasn’t one to flaunt herself, but that only seemed to make her stand out more.
As always, a few boys gathered their courage and approached her, eager to be the one who caught her attention.
Carrie treated them kindly, her gentle nature making her seem approachable even when she had no intention of encouraging them.
"Hi, Carrie, can I get your number?" one asked, his voice a mix of nerves and forced confidence.
It was the same story every week, the same hopeful faces wanting a chance, wanting more than her friendship.
Carrie smiled politely, offering the same courteous responses she always did, never harsh but never yielding either.
To them, she was still an unclaimed treasure, a girl worth chasing.
But little did they know, things had already changed.
Ross’s shadow lingered over her heart and body alike, his claim marked in ways invisible to the eyes of her classmates.
Though Carrie still walked the halls as the picture of purity, Ross had already bound her to him in ways far deeper than anyone around her could imagine.
These boys, with their awkward smiles and shallow desires, were too late.
The innocence they admired was already slipping away, piece by piece, into Ross’s hands.
Sooner or later, Carrie would no longer be the untouchable angel of the campus.
She would be Ross’s woman in truth—his possession, his prize—and by then, no admirer, no matter how persistent, would ever stand a chance.
When classes ended, students spilled out of the lecture halls, their chatter filling the courtyard.
Suddenly, the roar of an engine cut through the noise.
Heads turned as a sleek, bright red sports car glided smoothly onto the campus grounds, its polished frame gleaming under the afternoon sun.
The vehicle was unlike anything most of them had ever seen up close—expensive, exotic, and unmistakably out of place in a student parking lot.
Its windows were tinted so darkly that not a soul could glimpse the driver inside, only adding to the air of mystery.