“What?” Leah Sterling was so surprised by the news that she instinctively slammed on the brakes.
Still in disbelief, she asked, “Are you serious?”
Would Adrian Hawthorne really make his precious first love take the fall for this?
Yvette Sinclair lurched forward.
Bracing herself in the passenger seat, she nodded emphatically.
“It’s true!”
“Was it Hawthorne Group’s PR department’s idea?” Leah asked.
“I heard Mr.
Hawthorne approved the plan himself,” Yvette said.
“They’re spinning the whole thing as a publicity stunt directed by Wendy Scott.”
Leah frowned slightly, confused.
“But why would she stage something like this?
It doesn’t make any sense.” She wondered why anyone in their right mind would willingly bring such negative press upon themselves when the public was already targeting them.
The internet wasn’t stupid; there was no way netizens would actually buy it.
Yvette shrugged.
“I actually think it makes perfect sense.
As long as they frame it like this: she, a mistress, leaked the scandal hoping that you, the lawful wife, would be pushed by public outrage to divorce Mr.
Hawthorne.
That way, she achieves her goal.
As for her—if she’s already willing to be a mistress, why would she care about being cyberbullied?”
Hearing this, Leah mused, “That does make a lot of sense.”
“Right?
If a small-time streamer like me can figure it out, Hawthorne Group’s PR team definitely knows how to play the game,” Yvette said.
Leah fell silent for a moment before muttering to herself, “He really is ruthless.”
Hawthorne Group’s PR efficiency was unquestionable.
The official statement was released that very afternoon.
Leah was chewing on her coffee straw and scrolling through her phone when Charlotte Quinn called.
“Adrian Hawthorne really is ruthless, huh?” Charlotte tsked.
Hawthorne Group’s press release stated in a highly professional tone that Mr.
and Mrs.
Hawthorne had a strong, loving marriage.
It clarified that Adrian had no improper relationship with Ms.
Scott—they were merely old acquaintances from years ago—and that the entire incident was a self-directed stunt orchestrated by Ms.
Scott alone.
“So, is the whole thing settled now?” Charlotte asked.
“Yeah.”
“Are you still going to Lantheon to lay low?” Charlotte asked.
Leah sighed helplessly.
“I’m really just going there to source some clay, not to lay low.”
Charlotte knew nothing about pottery, so naturally, she didn’t understand the difference.
Wasn’t kaolin clay just mud?
What was so special about it?
Because of this, she genuinely believed Leah was using pottery as an excuse to escape the storm and clear her head.
Leah thought for a moment.
“I definitely can’t go today.
I’ll head out in a couple of days.” This would give her time to sketch out rough drafts for her upcoming competition entry.
That evening, Adrian called.
“I’m at Night River.
Come get me.”
Leah had picked him up so often in the past that she was considered the perfect designated driver in the eyes of his friends.
However, ever since they moved to Seaview Manor, she hadn’t needed to do it anymore.
She had grown accustomed to her peace and quiet, so being suddenly thrust back into this role felt unnatural.
Glancing at the half-finished sketch in front of her, Leah hesitated.
“How about I ask Old Cheney to pick you up?”
Adrian clicked his tongue on the other end of the line.
“Going back on your word, are we?”
Leah was exasperated.
“What did I even say?”
Adrian’s voice was low and teasing.
“Didn’t you promise to be a good wife to me?”
“Ooooh!” A chorus of rowdy cheering erupted in the background.
Leah’s scalp prickled with embarrassment.
“I…
I’ll be right there.”
“Good girl,” Adrian said, a lazy smile lingering in his tone.
After he ended the call, someone nearby teased, “Adrian, what kind of kinky roleplay do you and Leah have going on?”
“Yeah, weren’t you guys just talking about divorce?
You made up already?”
“Or was she just throwing a little tantrum to spice things up?”
Adrian didn’t answer.
He simply smirked, standing up.
“Keep drinking.
I’m going out to sober up a bit.”
As he headed for the door, someone joked, “Sober up, my ass!
You’re just going out to wait for your wife, aren’t you?”
Shortly after Adrian left the private room, Ian Sloan followed him out.
The two of them strolled down the corridor to get some air.
Ian remarked casually, “I didn’t expect you to let Hawthorne Group’s PR handle it like this.”
Adrian glanced at him sideways.
“How did you think I’d handle it?”
“I thought you’d make Leah take the fall,” Ian said.
“I heard from Silas Sinclair that she came to Night River with a friend recently and even ordered male models.
With something like that, all you’d need to do is put the security footage online, and the internet’s morality police would have crucified her.”
“Tsk.” Adrian’s brow furrowed.
Ian laughed.
“It’s not like today’s the first time you’ve realized Silas is a blabbermouth.”
As they chatted casually, neither of them noticed the figure standing a short distance behind them.
Wendy Scott stood there, her face deathly pale.
As she listened to their conversation, a vicious glint flashed in her eyes.
By the time Leah arrived at Night River, Adrian had already returned to the private room.
The room was deafeningly loud, with two guys butchering a rap song at the top of their lungs.
Adrian sat on the sofa, his eyes lowered.
His long eyelashes cast shadows over his slightly unfocused gaze, making him look drunk.
The moment Leah stepped inside, the wailing rap music abruptly stopped.
All eyes turned toward her.
“Oh, hey, Leah’s here to pick up her man!”
“Long time no see, Leah…”
Everyone in the room was shrewd.
After seeing Hawthorne Group’s PR statement, they fully understood Leah’s standing in Adrian’s eyes.
Leah gave them a polite nod and walked over to Adrian.
He slowly lifted his gaze.
His ridiculously thick eyelashes made his deep eyes look even more intense as he stared fixedly at her.
“Are you drunk?” Leah asked softly, looking down at him.
“Will you carry me on your back?” Adrian’s lips curled into a faint smile.
Leah frowned.
“How much did you drink?”
“If I drank a lot, will you carry me?” he asked again.
Leah was speechless.
She wondered if he even heard himself.
He was nearly six foot two!
Even though she was five foot seven, she was still tiny in comparison.
“I can’t carry you,” Leah said flatly.
Hearing this, the man replied, “Oh.
Then I didn’t drink much.”
Leah wondered what he meant by that.
If she had agreed to carry him, would he have claimed to be blackout drunk?
Gritting her teeth, she ordered, “Let’s go.
We’re heading home.”
Adrian didn’t move.
He just sat there and reached a hand out to her.
Leah pursed her lips and grabbed his hand to pull him up, but he didn’t budge.
Instead, with a gentle tug, he threw her off balance.
She stumbled forward, and by the time she recovered, she was sitting squarely on his lap.
The crowd’s cheering grew even louder.
Leah’s eyes widened in shock, and she immediately tried to stand up.
But Adrian was much stronger than her; he held her down effortlessly.
When Leah struggled again, Adrian leaned in, his thin lips grazing her ear.
His hot breath brushed against her skin, and his deep, magnetic voice carried a husky edge.
“Don’t move,” he murmured into her ear.
“If you keep moving, I’m going to get hard.”
Shocked, Leah snapped her head to look at him.
They were already so close that turning her head brought their faces mere millimeters apart—their noses practically brushed against each other.
Adrian raised his hand and reached toward her, looking exactly like he was about to cup the back of her head and kiss her.
Leah’s mind went completely blank.
She squeezed her eyes shut, and all she could hear was the frantic, deafening pounding of her own heart.