“Whatever.” Callie stood firm, her face cold. She couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. Callie raised her wine glass and poured it over Skye’s head, saying, “I’m not someone you can bully easily. You broke my bones, I’ll return the favor twice over.”
“Ah!” Skye screamed loudly, glaring at her. “Callie, how dare you pour wine on me!”
As she rolled up her sleeves and tried to push back, a few bodyguards rushed in and pinned her to the ground. “Try moving!”
Skye was kicked several times and cried out in pain, “You came prepared, you wretch!”
The burly bodyguards showed no mercy. Callie watched from behind, speaking slowly, “I thought you would be satisfied with the director position. I didn’t expect you to be so jealous of my abilities. Well, now you can forget about being the director.”
Skye collapsed on the ground, her face red and bruised. She clutched her stomach in pain, tears streaming down her face.
“Enjoy my return gift.” Callie smiled and added before leaving, “I don’t ask for much, just make sure both her arms are broken.”
Callie had always been tough. She lived by the principle: if no one offends me, I won’t offend them; if someone offends me, I’ll repay them double. This way of living meant she rarely faced bullying from others.
Retaliating felt good. Callie’s pent-up frustration from the past few days eased significantly. She was about to head to the restroom when she bumped into a familiar face around the corner.
The man wore a cashmere vest, his shirt cinched at the waist with a belt, looking sharp and upright. His expression was playful as he stared at her.
She was startled. “… Mr. Scott?”
Damn it, what was Jaquan doing here?
She had no idea how long he had been watching. He nodded slightly and chuckled, “What’s Miss Marsh afraid of? Where did your courage go?”
Skye was still wailing, “I should have had someone run you over!”
Callie forced herself to stand tall. “She bullied me first. Was I wrong to fight back?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why is Mr. Scott mocking me?”
He was strikingly handsome, clearly an old hand in such matters. As he leaned there, a stream of women passing by stole glances at him.
“I’m just impressed by Miss Marsh’s skills. It seems Nelson’s feelings for you are more than fifty percent justified,” he said confidently.
Callie suppressed her panic and replied, “No idea where Mr. Scott got that impression.”
“I’ve seen those bodyguards before; their faces are familiar.”
Her vision darkened; she hadn’t expected such a twist.
“Mr. Oconnor kindly lent me some men.”
Jaquan didn’t believe her anymore. “May I buy Miss Marsh a coffee?”
Given the situation, she had no choice.
Callie found him incredibly enigmatic, as if he was both part of and apart from the world of romance and intrigue. His emotions shifted freely, unlike Nelson’s consistent cold indifference.
In a large private room upstairs, Jaquan spread out a coffee tray and skillfully brewed coffee. He asked casually, “Do you drink cappuccino latte?”
“I usually don’t like coffee; it keeps me up at night.”
He heard her but didn’t comply, instead adding coffee grounds to a cup for himself.
“I saw that photo in the Ylosea Evening News. The image of Miss Marsh lying in a pool of blood was truly pitiful. If I were Nelson, I’d also make sure the other party paid in blood.”
Callie was suspicious. “What do you mean?”
Jaquan seemed to realize something. “You don’t know? Nelson broke the legs of the driver who hit you. He won’t be driving again in this lifetime.”