Seeing her standing at the doorway, James Grant’s deep eyes were tinged with Naomi.
He pushed away the women around him, stood up, and walked over quickly, reeking of alcohol.
A low, cold voice emerged from his thin lips, causing her heart to instantly plummet.
"Sorry to disturb you."
Her body radiated coldness, yet she displayed a generous, indifferent smile, her voice hoarse.
James Grant’s face was cold and gloomy, as he reached out to grab her wrist.
But she turned sideways to dodge, avoiding his touch.
Evelyn Clayton tightened her hand, her fingertips digging into her palm.
She lowered her gaze, took a deep breath: "Director Grant, sorry, I have things to attend to, I’ll leave first."
Her tone was particularly cold and distant, as she turned around and left.
James Grant stood motionless, the music in his ears drowned out, leaving only her voice steeped in disappointment and coldness from start to finish.
Outside the private room, at the corner of the corridor, Clara Yates was about to turn away, but accidentally saw a familiar silhouette.
She stopped and took another glance, it was Evelyn Clayton.
Clara Yates adjusted her route, cautiously following behind Evelyn Clayton.
Passing by the wide-open private room, she inadvertently saw James Grant inside.
She immediately understood, a proud, sarcastic smile curled her lips.
At the entrance of the bar, Evelyn Clayton clutched her bag tightly, the back of her hand turning blue, as she stood by the roadside to hail a cab.
She lowered her eyelids, the anger and sarcasm welling up in her chest made it hard for her to breathe.
She must have been out of her mind to believe that James Grant, a man with such a reckless nature, would mend his ways!
And truly foolish, to travel so far to apologize to him.
A mocking voice came from beside her.
She turned her eyes impatiently.
She saw Clara Yates standing beside her, arms crossed.
"What’s the matter, seeing James Grant messing around with women, got you feeling down?"
Clara Yates boldly mocked, her eyes scanning her with glee.
Evelyn Clayton stood there, her red lips lightly pressed, dressed in a velvet black dress, her eyelashes hanging low as her eyes slightly raised, yet her gaze was chillingly cold, like black ice. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel fire.net
Seeing her silence, Clara Yates taunted even more flagrantly: "What are you pretending? Still fantasizing that James Grant will like you? Now you see, to him, you’re no different than those women in the bar, easily obtainable and casually discarded."
She turned her gaze slightly, suddenly retorting.
Her eyes showed no ripple, yet exuded a sense of indifference and detachment.
"Then what kind of woman are you? Even James Grant doesn’t care for you, can you even compare to the women in the bar?"
Instantly, Clara Yates was furious: "Evelyn Clayton, what are you so smug about!"
Sooner or later, when James Grant grows tired of you, you’ll be nothing but a beaten dog!
Evelyn Clayton withdrew her gaze, ignoring her angry outburst.
Out of the corner of her eye, she accidentally saw the water sprinkler on the lawn was left on.
She squinted her eyes, a gleam flashing in them.
Then, deliberately walked toward it.
Clara Yates thought she was leaving, she refused to give up and chased after: "Evelyn Clayton, don’t think you have James Grant backing you up, soon enough James Grant will marry my sister, by then, you’ll be even less than a dog!"
With those words, Clara Yates suddenly let out a panicked scream: "Ah!"
The water sprinkler was turned on, the water column aimed at Clara Yates, spraying furiously, drenching her completely.
"Evelyn Clayton you’re crazy!"
Clara Yates stomped her feet angrily, trying to rush forward.
Evelyn Clayton, with a sharp eye, stepped hard, increasing the water pressure.
At once, the spray prevented Clara Yates from opening her eyes, as she frantically struggled to fend off.
Many people around cast mocking glances.