Elly Campbell didn’t want to argue with him, and she didn’t understand why he had suddenly become so stubborn.
"If you keep exerting yourself like that, your wound is going to split open again."
Her eyes remained calm, without the slightest ripple, as she glanced at his injury, giving a well-meaning reminder.
A cold sneer came from Adam Jones’s mouth. Holding her hand, he loosened his grip slightly, "What’s this supposed to be? You stab me and then offer me candy?"
Elly Campbell furrowed her brows and didn’t make a sound.
"You think I’m eager for this?"
His lips curled into a cold smile as he abruptly stood up from the couch and headed towards the door, his hoarse voice repeating in a low murmur, "I’m not eager, I’m not eager..."
Reaching the door, he reached out to open it, his hand tightening on the doorknob before he finally stormed out.
Elly Campbell stood there, thinking about Adam Jones’s departure, her brows even more knitted.
After a long while, she took several deep breaths, pressed her swelling chest, and whispered, "I haven’t wronged him, why does he have the face to be fierce with me?"
If the wound opens, so be it. She had warned him, and he wouldn’t listen—let him die for all she cared!
After some mental adjustment, Elly Campbell suddenly felt much more at peace with the situation.
Since there was no chance of reconciliation, there was no need to get too entangled with him.
In the spacious VIP room, men and women dressed in glamorous attire sat together, some playing drinking games, others dancing.
Through the crowd, on the high-end leather sofa, Adam lay back lazily on the chair, his distinctively jointed hand cradling a glass of blood-red liquor. His eyes half-closed, seemingly languid and hazy yet as if covered in a layer of frost.
"CEO Hall, is this really the gathering our president asked you to organize?"
Robert Green leaned closer to Harry Hall, who was sitting in the corner with a glass of alcohol, and asked in a low voice.
Surprised by the response, Robert Green felt this was quite out of character for their president.
This man, as disciplined as a monk, had actually suggested they have such a drinking party—what unknown stress had caused the president to be relegated to the mailroom for only a day?
Looking at the women eyeing their boss as if they were ready to pounce at any moment, Robert Green frowned with worry.
"CEO Hall, I’m a bit concerned about our president."
Harry Hall’s cold gaze swept over the transparent glass towards Robert Green, "Concerned about what? That he might be eaten by those women?"
Harry chuckled. Without asking, he knew what had struck Adam Jones.
Who else could have brought him to this state, if not the ex-wife he had driven away with his own strength?
"No, I’m worried the president might break those women’s hands."
How could he be concerned about the president being devoured?
This thirty-year-old... ah, not a perennial bachelor, but a lofty unattainable flower—isn’t something just anyone could fancy biting into.
Harry Hall’s gaze drifted casually towards Adam, who was sitting silently on the sofa with a devastatingly dark face, as if ready to devour someone at any moment, and his lips curved faintly.
Indeed, those women were trying to get close to Adam, but they were also intimidated by his King Yama-like demeanor.
Still, there were those who are not afraid to die.
"Young Master Jones, come join us for some fun. It’s my first time seeing you in person, Young Master. You’re even more handsome than in the pictures... Ah!!"
The woman’s coquettish speech was cut off before she could finish, as the fingers reaching towards Adam’s chest were abruptly snapped by him, "Get lost!"