However, the security guards didn’t waste time arguing.
Seeing that Simon and the girl were resisting, they didn’t bother with pleasantries.
A few guards seized them, effortlessly hoisting them off the ground before tossing them out the restaurant’s front door, their limbs flailing midair.
The girl’s relentless screaming only drew more attention, gathering a crowd of onlookers.
Dozens of phones were raised, capturing the scene, and within no time, the footage spread online.
In less than an hour, the video of Simon being thrown out of the restaurant hit the top trending spot.
…
On the way home, I sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through the comment section.
Some people did not hesitate to call Simon out:
"I’ve been fed up with him for ages. Just because he can paint a few strokes, he thinks he’s a genius. Always acting like a diva, showing up late and leaving early like it’s a privilege."
"Simon has zero respect for others. When we collaborated with his company for an art exhibition, my coworker accidentally placed one of his paintings in the wrong spot. He berated her in front of everyone. The poor girl was so shaken she fell sick for days."
Someone even posted a video of Simon losing his temper, cursing while the girl in the footage sobbed helplessly.
Public opinion turned against him in an instant.
His reputation crumbled.
But I knew better.
Simon’s PR team was airtight—nothing ever leaked unless someone made sure it did.
There was only one explanation.
Noah had orchestrated and planned it all.
I put my phone down and turned to look at him as he drove.
"Thank you, Mr. Wells, for standing up for me."
Noah’s expression darkened.
Reaching over, he pinched my nose hard. "Try calling me that again, and you’ll regret it tonight."
"Mmmph…" I let out a small, defeated whimper like a scolded pet.
It wasn’t until tonight that I realized Noah was a shareholder in the restaurant.
…
We sped home, the car slicing through the night.
The moment we stepped inside, Noah didn’t waste a second.
He pinned me against the wall, kissing me intensely.
Buttons flew from my shirt, scattering across the floor.
The motion-sensor light at the entry flickered on, then off, then on again, struggling to keep up with us.
He kissed me endlessly.
By the time he pulled away, I was weak in his arms, unable to catch my breath.
His rough fingertips brushed over my mouth, his warm breath fanning my face as his dark eyes held mine for a long, intense moment.
"Chloe, do you know what I was thinking about the whole drive here? I kept wondering… did Simon ever kiss you like this?"
He pushed my hair from my forehead, his lashes lowering, heavy with desire. "Just picturing you with him drives me insane. I swear, I could kill him for it…
"So, tell me, Chloe—why did you choose him?"
Noah’s gaze bore down on me, half-lidded, carrying an almost suffocating sense of danger.
I pressed a helpless palm against him, my voice a whisper.
"Because… his side profile looks a lot like yours.
"When I heard you were engaged, I broke down. And then you disappeared. I had no way of reaching you.
“At the same time, my grandmother was gravely ill, and the weight of everything crushed me.
“My hair started falling out in clumps, and every night, I needed sleeping pills just to get a few hours of rest.
"Noah, I wanted to go overseas and find you. But my grandmother was in the hospital. She needed me."
My shoulders trembled as tears spilled over, blurring my vision.
"And then Simon showed up. It was like I was drowning, and he was the only thing keeping me afloat. He became my anchor, my last grip on sanity. Just seeing him felt like having you close again.
"I knew it was wrong. I knew he wasn’t right for me. But I just wanted to survive. That was all—I just wanted to survive."
Before I could say another word, Noah bent down and kissed me hard.
Tears mixed between us, salty and warm, bleeding into the kiss.
He choked back a sob, murmuring over and over, "I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…"
