33

Evelyn was probably fed up. She grabbed Caleb by the arms, “Caleb, let’s forget about this incident. If you dare to cheat again, my father will never let you off.”
“And you!” Evelyn targeted Isabella again. “Get lost, I don’t want to see you again!”
“Why should I?” Isabella argued her case. She wasn’t the one who should leave.
However, it seemed that everyone on the film set sided with Evelyn. In their eyes, she was the innocent victim.
A few crew members half-guided, half-pushed Isabella out.
Even Director Davis, with a hint of helplessness, told her, “Isabella, I can see that you’re not in good shape today. Don’t attend the press conference later.”
“Mr. Davis, do you also believe I would seduce Caleb?” Isabella asked.
“I believe you didn’t, but it’s about getting the public to believe you. In this industry, reputation is crucial. Many female artists have seen their careers end after being labeled as mistresses. If this matter becomes big, even my movie will be affected.”
Olivia called back, surprised by the chaos that had ensued.
Regarding the matter, she didn’t inquire too much. As Isabella’s manager, Olivia had to unconditionally stand by Isabella.
Olivia called some friendly reporters, hoping to suppress the issue. However, the result was that the ‘mistress’ incident involving Isabella in “Mermaid Princess” would be reported tomorrow, making headlines in major entertainment magazines.
“Why is it breaking so quickly?” Olivia had a headache.
“They carefully planned this trap; they won’t let me off easily,” Isabella sneered.
“Now the only way is to guide public opinion. After the news breaks tomorrow, I’ll hire some online influencers to spin this event as a publicity stunt for the early promotion of the movie, minimizing the impact of the mistress incident.”
After all, sensationalism had become a common way of promoting movies in the early stages. Before the release of Director Davis’s last film, the rumored romance between the male and female leads had heated up.
Olivia’s use of this method to deal with a sudden event showed her prowess as a top-notch agent.
“I’ll take you home first. Rest well and don’t think too much,” Olivia comforted her.
Isabella shook her head, “Drop me off at the intersection up ahead. I want some time alone to clear my mind.”
The chauffeured car pulled over at the roadside. After getting out, she walked into a nearby bar.
She sat at the bar, ordered a dozen drinks, one after another.
Today’s events made Isabella feel particularly miserable.
The bar was filled with empty bottles, and she slumped among them, intoxicated.
“Ma’am, the bar is closing soon,” the server walked over and nudged her, but there was no response.
Helpless, the server picked up her phone left on the bar. The first in the call log was Andrew.
The server dialed the number, and after a beep, a deep male voice answered, “What’s the matter?”
“Sir, your wife is drunk at the bar. We are closing soon and hope you can pick her up as soon as possible,” the server explained.
After a brief silence, the voice on the other end replied, “Give me the location.”
Andrew rushed to the bar and saw Isabella sprawled on the bar, unconscious.
He scowled.
Bars were always full of unpredictable situations. A girl getting drunk and defenseless, being bullied with nowhere to cry. Did she have any self-awareness at all?
“Sir, here’s the bill,” the server handed over the tab.
Andrew took out some bills from his suit pocket, tossed them onto the bar, then lifted Isabella and headed towards the exit.
A flashy Maybach was parked at the bar’s entrance. He walked over, emotionless, and placed Isabella into the car.
She didn’t know how much she had drunk; the cabin was filled with the choking smell of alcohol.
He frowned and lowered both sides of the car windows.
The night was deep, and the night breeze, mixed with a chill, kept pouring in through the car windows.
With patience, he fastened Isabella’s seatbelt and then started the car’s engine.
A pair of long and handsome male hands turned the steering wheel. Just as the car entered the lane, warmth suddenly appeared at the corner of Andrew’s lips.
Soft arms, unbeknownst to him, wrapped around his neck. The girl leaned in completely, her rosy lip petals pressed against his resolute thin lips, warm and tender.
His hand on the steering wheel stiffened for a moment. A sudden brake, and the car stopped in the middle of the road.
“Are you taking me home?” Isabella’s voice was gentle.
She was in a half-drunken state, her widened eyes filled with confusion. The orange light from the street lamp outside the car window scattered in her bright pupils. When she blinked, the light seemed dazzling.
Andrew squinted his deep eyes, staring at her incessantly. Eventually, unable to resist, he pulled her into his chest and lowered his head to kiss her.
The taste on her lips was sweet, mixed with a faint scent of alcohol, intoxicating. He somewhat uncontrollably deepened the kiss.
Despite the passionate entanglement, Isabella found it hard to breathe.
Her head was dizzy; her hands instinctively grabbed the shirt on his chest. Her mind was blank.
Feeling uncomfortable, she instinctively struggled a few times. The arm around her waist tightened.
Amidst the passionate entanglement, a loud honk suddenly came from behind.
The sound was particularly loud and piercing, partially waking Isabella from her alcohol-induced stupor.
Through the rearview mirror, she saw a car behind them. The driver’s side door opened, and the driver, probably planning to come and confront them, stepped out.
Although it was late at night, and there weren’t many vehicles on the road, their car blocking the road in this manner was indeed unreasonable.
She blinked her eyes, and in front of her were Andrew’s resolute jaw and his lips, pressing against her own. One hand was still resting on her chest.
“Could you please let go of me?” She frantically tried to push away the heavy body pressing on her. Her cheeks blushed like they had been boiled.
Unlike Isabella’s panic, Andrew calmly sat up straight. One hand rested on the steering wheel, the other pressed on the accelerator, and the car shot forward like an arrow.
Entering the house, she was mostly sober, just a bit of a headache. She collapsed onto the sofa.
“Go take a shower,” Andrew stood in front of the sofa, looking down at her, his tone and expression both indifferent.
She slumped on the sofa, unwilling to move.
For Andrew, very few dared to ignore his words. However, instead of getting annoyed, he smiled, “Not going? Do you want me to help you wash?”
Isabella subconsciously wrapped her arms around her chest, staring at him with vigilance. “No need, I’ll do it myself.”
She angrily walked into the bathroom; the sound of the door slamming was loud. Shortly after, the sound of rushing water followed.
She stood under the shower, pulling at her clothes discontentedly.
She undressed, lowered her head to wash her hair, and her head was full of foam from the shampoo. At the right time, the bathroom door creaked open.
“Changed clothes are hanging outside the door.” His voice came from outside the door, low and emotionless.
After saying that, he left.
Isabella heard the footsteps of him leaving before continuing to take her shower.
She had no spare clothes in the apartment, so she was still wearing Andrew’s shirt.
She sat on the carpet in front of the French window, hands supporting her chin, quietly looking at the deep night outside.
The night was quiet, so quiet that it made her feel empty inside.
Isabella couldn’t help but let out a light sigh.
Faint footsteps echoed behind her; she turned her head and saw Andrew carrying a bowl of soup.
“Wake up from your hangover.” He handed her the soup.
She was obedient at the moment, took the soup, and drank it clean.
After finishing, she put the empty bowl on the floor. With her arms crossed, her chin rested on her knees, she continued to stare blankly out the window.
“What are you thinking about? It’s rare for you to be so quiet,” he sat down beside her, looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes.
Isabella withdrew her gaze, silently staring at him. In her ears, the muffled sound of an antique clock rang out-one, two, three… a total of twelve chimes.
“It’s past midnight,” she said, “now it’s October 6th.”
“October 6th, your birthday,” he said.