Platt’s smirk froze on his face as he swiveled toward the door. Standing there was Noah, his figure outlined by the sleek, tailored lines of a dark suit that accentuated his commanding presence. His features were sharp, his expression icy as he surveyed the room with a gaze so frigid it seemed to lower the temperature.
The sheer force of his arrival sent a palpable chill across the gathering.
What left them truly speechless was the fact that he was standing there, holding Sadie-the same woman they had just belittled. With her cheeks burning red, Sadie leaned hazily against his chest, their proximity exuding an undeniable intimacy.
Murmurs filled the room, the previous arrogance turning into whispers of confusion.
Wasn’t Kyla the one everyone claimed to be Noah’s girlfriend?
Why the hell was he suddenly playing hero for a damn secretary?
Under the impression that Kyla would be Noah’s future bride, Platt had no qualms about conspiring with her to humiliate Sadie. However, if he had misjudged the situation, the consequences would be disastrous-he’d be as good as dead. As these thoughts churned through his mind, Platt rose, his face breaking into an ingratiating smile directed at Noah.
“Please, forgive my earlier oversight in properly welcoming you,” he said, his voice carrying a tone of deference.
Immediately, the room buzzed to life as everyone stood, shuffling chairs and clearing the way to honor their guest. The seat of honor and its adjacent chair were conspicuously left vacant.
Noah watched the orchestrated commotion silently, his expression unreadable. Only after the last murmurs had settled did he gracefully take the chair reserved for him.
Kyla, poised to sit beside him, paused mid-step as Noah, in a surprising move, gestured for Sadie to sit next to him instead. The room filled with whispered speculations and furtive glances towards Kyla, whose plans seemed to unravel before her eyes.
“Kyla, what’s the deal with Miss Hudson? Why is Mr. Wall acting like she’s someone important?” A woman, dressed in eye-catching, over-the-top clothing, covered her mouth with a delicate hand, her voice a syrupy blend of curiosity and scorn.
A man joined in, skepticism lacing his tone. “Miss Wade, weren’t you just telling us how Mr. Wall…”
Kyla inhaled sharply, quelling the storm inside her. She put on a forced smile and replied, “Mr. Wall has always been exceptionally attentive to every member of his staff. With Sadie drunk, he’s obviously going to ensure she gets the care she needs.”
“Oh, is that so?”
The crowd murmured, their disbelief thinly veiled by nodding heads, their expressions etched with doubt. But wasn’t this care unusually personal?
It was clear to anyone observing that there was something more to it. And Noah-known for his indifference towards romantic entanglements and his cutthroat decisiveness-since when did he exhibit such warmth and concern for a woman?
Yet, no one dared to call out Kyla’s bluff.
With her facade intact, Kyla moved to another seat, sitting ramrod straight, fully aware of the curious glances thrown her way. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Her hands clenched into fists under the table, nails digging painfully into her flesh, yet she remained outwardly composed, oblivious to the physical discomfort her own body inflicted.
The spacious private room was engulfed in a stifling silence. Everyone present was on edge, scarcely daring to draw a deep breath for fear that even the slightest noise might provoke the formidable man seated in the chair of honor.
Noah’s piercing eyes swept across the room, and wherever his steely gaze landed, it seemed to exert an invisible, crushing weight. People instinctively lowered their heads, shunning his scrutiny as if the mere act of meeting his eyes could spell disaster. His gaze, sharp and discerning, seemed to slice through the tense atmosphere, sending a chill skittering across everyone’s skin.
Just as the room’s anxiety was teetering on the brink of unbearable, Noah broke the silence. His voice was calm, almost disinterested, as his thin lips parted slightly to deliver two simple words: “Mr. Crawford.”
Despite the casual delivery, those words landed with the explosive force of a thunderclap, echoing ominously in the tense air.
At the mention of his name, Platt felt an icy dread snake down his spine, his back slick with cold sweat. He shot up from his seat as if jolted by an electric current, snapping to attention like a soldier heeding a general’s call. Standing ramrod straight, his hands aligned precisely along the seams of his trousers, he leaned forward in a deferential bow and asked with a tremulous voice, “Mr. Wall, what can I do for you?”
Noah let the question hang in the air, his response delayed as he turned his attention to Sadie. She reclined in her chair, her head resting against the high back, eyes half-lidded and her complexion ghostly pale, a picture of distress. A shadow crossed Noah’s features, and the oppressive atmosphere thickened palpably around him.
He slowly redirected his gaze towards Platt, allowing a small, chilling chuckle to escape his lips-a sound deceptively gentle yet laden with an unspoken threat.
“You sure have a thing for drinking, don’t you? Well, today you’re in for a treat,” Noah declared with a sly grin. He snapped his fingers, the sound crisp and resonant in the hushed confines of the private room.
At his signal, Samuel, who had been poised just outside, swung the door open. Waiters strode in one after another, their movements smooth and precise. They filed in two neat rows, each carrying bottles of wine that gleamed under the soft lighting. One by one, they set the bottles before Platt, each placement marked by the soft chime of glass meeting wood-a sound ominously reminiscent of a tolling bell in Platt’s increasingly anxious ears.
His complexion drained to a ghostly pallor. A fine sheen of sweat beaded on his brow, and his discomfort was palpable in the thickening silence. The entire spectacle wrapped up in five minutes.
Finally, as the last bottle was placed, the lead waiter stepped forward, his voice breaking the suspense. “Mr. Wall, all the wine is here,” he announced, his tone formal yet tinged with a hint of disbelief. The room held its breath. The extent of Noah’s command-every bottle in the restaurant laid out before them-was staggering.
Was he trying to make Platt drink himself to death?
Noah’s gaze swept over the assembly, landing with icy finality on Platt. His lips barely moved as he spoke, but the word “Enjoy” fell from them like a verdict, resonating with a chilling authority that sent a shiver down Platt’s spine.
Platt’s breath hitched, unease settling in as he stared at the mountain of wine bottles. He conjured a smile, more like a strained grimace, as he stammered, “Well, Mr. Wall, th-this is… it’s rather excessive.” He flicked a desperate glance towards Kyla, silently pleading for intervention from the normally eloquent diplomat.
Catching his cue, Kyla nodded subtly. She gracefully swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she chimed in, her voice deliberately softened to convey concern. “Noah, forcing down this much wine could be deadly-“
Her words were laced with a feigned fragility, designed to evoke Noah’s protective instincts.
Yet, before she could elaborate, Noah cut her off with a stern, commanding tone. “So, you’re aware of the risks, then?”
His voice, though not raised, carried a potent, resonant force that filled the charged silence of the room.
His sharp gaze swept across the faces before him, resting on Kyla with a glint of sarcasm and unmistakable chill.
His insinuation was clear, and it struck Kyla directly.
A storm of emotions whirled within her, her complexion paling. It never crossed her mind that Noah would go to such extremes for Sadie.
The weight of it hit so hard, it felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs.
Beneath the table, her fingers gripped her handbag with such intensity that her knuckles whitened.
The gentle mask she had so meticulously maintained began to fracture, revealing a hint of the turmoil within.
Platt, too, understood the gravity of the situation. He recognized that he had provoked someone truly formidable. Consequences loomed over him, inevitable and severe.
Trapped with no escape, he sank to his knees with a resounding thud, his hands clasped before him, the very picture of desperation. With urgency laced in his tone, his words shattered the tense stillness surrounding them. “Miss Hudson, I was foolish to cross you, and I sincerely regret it. Please, show some mercy and convince Mr. Wall to let me off just this once!”
The room was enveloped in a palpable silence, every attendee frozen, their breaths held as they witnessed the unfolding drama.
Who would have thought that Platt, a dominant force in business, would be reduced to pleading for mercy from a woman who appeared so fragile?
Sadie, her eyes slowly fluttering open, fixed a weak yet resolute gaze on Platt. Her voice, though soft, was infused with an unwavering resolve. “Mr. Crawford, when I continuously declined your request, neither you nor Miss Wade showed me any leniency. You branded me a workaholic, so devoted to the company that I’d overlook personal boundaries. You dismissed my refusal to drink, insisting that without my compliance, you wouldn’t work with Wall Group.”
“Mr. Crawford, were those your words?” Sadie pressed, her voice dripping with sarcasm, which visibly darkened Platt’s expression.
His lips quivered as he struggled with the weight of her words. After a painful pause, he managed a reply, his voice barely above a whisper. “Miss Hudson, I messed up-please, give me this one chance to make it right.”
Kyla, who had never imagined she’d witness Sadie-the typically reserved woman-confronting someone, felt a sudden urge to defend Platt. She almost rose to speak on his behalf, but Noah’s frosty stare rooted her to the spot.
“Mr. Crawford, since you hold such contempt for Wall Group, I believe it’s best we sever our ties now.” Noah’s tone was as cold as the arctic, leaving no room for Platt to argue.
Overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation, Platt collapsed to the floor, his face the picture of despair. Despite all efforts, his company had never risen beyond mediocrity. A massive conglomerate like Wall Group, built on generations of success, could bankrupt his company without even breaking a sweat. In a last-ditch effort to salvage the situation, Platt grabbed a bottle of wine and declared, “Mr. Wall, I’ll drink!” He then took a desperate gulp, hoping against hope to mend the irreparable rift.
The fiery liquid scorched its way down his throat, causing his eyes to water, yet Platt persisted, knowing this momentary agony was trivial compared to the devastation of bankruptcy.
One bottle, two bottles, three bottles…
No one dared to make a sound, their eyes fixed on Platt as he drowned himself in liquor, each bottle tipping back like the final act of a doomed man.
Platt’s torment dragged on, bottle after bottle, until the fifth sealed his fate. His body failed, his world spun, and in the next second, he collapsed-nothing but dead weight on the cold floor.
Noah, his face twisted in a grimace of revulsion, turned to Samuel with icy detachment. “I’ll leave the rest to you,” he commanded, his voice brooking no argument.
“Absolutely, Mr. Wall,” Samuel responded with a deferential nod. Disregarding the shocked faces around him, Noah snatched up his coat and strode out, Sadie in tow.
The chill of the night air greeted them, cutting through the stench of alcohol that clung to their clothes. It was a welcome, cleansing breeze that seemed to clear Sadie’s senses slightly. She shook her head vigorously, trying to shake off the lingering haze of alcohol. She needed to get away, to find solace in the quiet of her own space.
She walked straight to the roadside, intending to hail a taxi home. There was something unsettling about the way Sadie ignored him, leaving Noah with a vague but persistent discomfort he couldn’t put into words. He approached her and grasped her hand, his voice tinged with irritation. “After everything I did for you tonight, Sadie, do I not even get a word?”
Sadie turned to face him, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and indifference. “Oh, thank you,” she murmured, her tone flat.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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