Her Anchorless Heart Finds Love

"What's the matter?"

In the back of the black Maybach, a man of almost surreal features sat in silence, turning the pages of a magazine without looking up.

The driver's voice trembled slightly. "Sir… I believe we may have struck someone."

"Go and check if they're alive."

The driver grabbed an umbrella and hurried out of the car.

Through the sheets of rain, he saw a woman lying on the ground. She was curled up, perilously close to the tires. One more foot, and it would have been a tragedy.

"Miss! Are you okay?"

The driver crouched down, taking in the sight of the utterly drenched young woman.

Her hair was stuck to her pallid face, her slender frame shaking violently in the torrential rain—she looked like she could barely hold herself up.

"Help me!"

Claire lifted her head, the headlights blinding her. She could see nothing clearly, but with all her remaining strength, she reached out and clutched the driver's pant leg.

"Please… save me!"

She couldn't die. Not yet. She had revenge to take. Iris and Calvin had to pay.

"There she is!"

A low, rough shout came from behind, followed by the pounding footsteps of several men rushing toward them.

"Help me!"

The disturbance outside finally drew Jordan Bennett's attention. He glanced through the window.

Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw several men surrounding a woman. They had hauled her up, leaving her helpless—a lamb awaiting slaughter.

He had only meant to look. He had no intention of intervening.

But when the woman turned her face slightly in his direction, his brows drew sharply together.

He opened his umbrella and stepped out of the car. Long, deliberate strides carried him toward the commotion.

"Sir… they—" the driver began.

"Let her go."

His voice was ice, cutting through the din of the rain. Claire squinted, straining to make him out, but the downpour rendered his features an indistinct blur.

"Please… save me," she pleaded again.

The rain-diffused light fell clearly on her face.

Jordan's grip on the umbrella handle tightened imperceptibly. Then, his voice dropped, low and commanding. "I said… let her go."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" one of the thugs sneered, stepping forward to shove him.

Jordan turned, and with a swift motion, the man was sent sprawling into a deep puddle with a heavy splash.

The others, stunned by his speed and precision, hesitated.

"Get him! All of you, now!"

One by one, they fell. Jordan dispatched them with effortless, brutal efficiency.

Their leader, seeing the situation, immediately released Claire and scrambled away in a panic.

"Claire… can you hear me?"

Jordan bent down and gathered her into his arms.

The years had changed her—she had grown, matured into her features.

Her eyes remained closed, long lashes quivering faintly, like the delicate wings of a trapped butterfly.

"Don't touch me…" The girl shivered violently in his embrace.

A frown etched itself between Jordan's brows. Something long dormant within his chest seemed to fracture and stir.

Even the driver had recognized her. "Oh, isn't this the Aniston girl? The one who's causing a stir by choosing a groom by lottery? Master George said she could pick from any eligible heir in the Bennett family."

"Hm." Jordan raised an eyebrow. "And Calvin doesn't want her?"

"That's the rumor, sir. He's apparently involved with Claire's half-sister… the illegitimate Aniston daughter."

"Ha." A cold, humorless smile touched Jordan's lips. "My… nephew has remarkably poor taste. To spurn the woman who pursued him for years in favor of an illegitimate child."

He didn't like her. Fine.

Jordan did.

If he hadn't heard she was resorting to a marital lottery, he wouldn't have returned at all.