Chapter 818
818:
Seven photos filled the screen. The first one hit like a punch—Ethan, his arms lazily draped around two women, one of whom was lifting a drink to his lips. Brenna’s first reaction was that the photos were edited; they couldn’t possibly be real.
But then, a thought crept in. Could this have happened before she had arrived at the private room? Had Ethan really done something like this?
As Brenna scrolled through the photos, her expression grew colder. After staring at the post for a long time, she forwarded it to Ethan, waiting for his explanation.
But ten minutes passed, and there was no response from Ethan.
Brenna paused, her composure steady, before clicking the link again and zooming in on the image for a closer inspection. As she suspected, the inconsistencies were glaring. She scrutinized the lighting and shadows, which unequivocally revealed that the photo had been edited.
Relief washed over her, easing the knot in her mind. Still, she resolved to caution Ethan when the opportunity arose. Some deals, especially those tangled with dubious characters, simply weren’t worth the risk.
Though she was certain Ethan hadn’t betrayed her, irritation lingered. She exited the post, unwilling to dwell on it further.
Meanwhile, Ethan and Percy had been drinking for over two hours, finally sealing the hefty contract. After chatting for a while, they went their separate ways.
Ethan, feeling the buzz of alcohol, moved with uneven steps. At the entrance, he courteously said goodbye to Percy, who was in worse shape than him, wobbling as he tried to keep his balance.
Ethan scanned the area for Neville, but he was nowhere in sight, nor could he see any of his bodyguards.
His brow furrowed. Neville, who had been by his side for years, never abandoned his post without permission. The bodyguards, too, were dependable, always ensuring at least one remained present, even for brief absences like a restroom break.
Something was clearly wrong.
Ethan dialed Neville’s number. “Where are you?”
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The sound of a toilet flushing preceded Neville’s apologetic voice. “Mr. Mitchell, I’m sorry. The others and I are dealing with stomach issues. We think the water we drank earlier was off. Please wait for us; we’ll be back shortly.”
Ethan ended the call and propped himself against the wall, waiting for Neville’s return. From the next room, Tina emerged, lingering at the doorway, discreetly watching Ethan.
Ethan’s tall, striking figure was made even more captivating by the slight crease in his brow, his features softened by the alcohol’s haze.
Tina approached, catching the faint scent of liquor on him. She sauntered down the hallway, feigning a casual stroll, but her pulse quickened as she noted Ethan’s state.
In a tipsy state, a reckless urge surged within Tina to close the distance between her and Ethan, to peel away his clothes.
Pretending to be startled, she stopped when she was near him. “Mr. Mitchell, what are you doing out here?”
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