Chapter 20 Catching Them Being Intimate
Sloane's POV
My mind went blank with a buzzing sound.
Keira had attempted suicide.
Those words circled in my ears like an absurd joke.
"So what?"
Jared on the other end seemed unprepared for this reaction. His voice caught.
"Is she dead?" I continued, my voice cold without a trace of warmth. "If she's not dead, she should be in the hospital getting emergency treatment right now, not having you call to notify me, someone completely irrelevant."
"Sloane!" The exhaustion in his voice was instantly replaced by anger.
"I'm at a dinner."
The other end went quiet. I could hear his deliberately suppressed breathing. The noise and laughter from the restaurant traveled through the receiver, exceptionally clear.
"Who are you having dinner with? That guy named David?" His voice was cold as ice, carrying an interrogating tone.
The anger inside me flared up instantly. "Jared, are you interrogating me?"
"I need to know your schedule, know who you're with," he explained.
But this sounded more like a flimsy excuse, covering up his ridiculous possessiveness.
"David invited our entire department to dinner to celebrate completing the project." I stated the facts coldly, not wanting to say another word. "That's it."
With that, I hung up decisively.
The world was quiet again.
I walked back to the table, the forced smile on my face completely gone.
"What's wrong? You look terrible," David leaned over, asking with concern.
I shook my head and took a big gulp of the juice in front of me, but it couldn't suppress the irritation inside.
Seeing my lack of interest, David's eyes lit up. He snapped his fingers and called over a server. "Get something different for our star performer here—bring your best whiskey."
The colleagues immediately joined in the commotion, and the atmosphere heated up again.
I refused.
Everyone looked puzzled. I picked up a soft drink and explained, "Drinking leads to mistakes."
I drank too quickly and choked, coughing twice. My eyes instantly turned red.
David thoughtfully handed me a glass of water. I waved him off and poured myself another glass.
Glass after glass, I drank rather urgently. The cold liquid gradually numbed my nerves. The surrounding noise seemed to drift away from me, and everything before my eyes began to blur.
I didn't know if it was from lack of oxygen or drowsiness.
The private room door was pushed open, and a group of people passed by our table with laughter, heading toward the luxury private room inside.
My gaze swept over casually, but froze when it caught a particular figure from behind.
The man was tall and straight, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, wearing a well-tailored black suit. Even just from the back, that familiar air of cool nobility hit me full force.
It was Jared.
My heartbeat skipped. Had he come after all?
The thought had barely formed when I saw the man turn his head and say something to the person beside him.
In the dim light, the profile was unfamiliar and ordinary.
It wasn't him.
My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, and the sudden disappointment made my breath catch.
I picked up my glass and drained the remaining water, cursing myself viciously in my mind.
Sloane, you're truly pathetic.
After how he treated you, you still have expectations of him.
He's probably watching over his delicate sweetheart right now, frantic with worry over her "suicide." How could he possibly appear here?
I'm beyond hopeless.
I'd drunk too much, and my stomach started churning.
I put down my glass and stood up. "I'm going to the restroom."
"I'll come with you." Seeing me unsteady on my feet, David immediately stood up to support me.
"No need..."
"It's not safe for you to go alone." Before I could respond, he took my arm and walked me down the hallway to the restrooms.
I splashed cold water on my face, and my foggy head started to clear.
I looked up at the woman in the mirror—pale-faced with bloodshot eyes—and felt only strangeness and sadness.
Just then, the phone in my pocket vibrated again.
I irritably pulled it out. It was an unknown number.
I frowned and answered, thinking Jared had called from a different number.
"Hello?"
"Sloane? Is this Sloane?" An anxious but somewhat familiar male voice came through. "Thank God, it's me, Alger!"
Alger, Jared's best friend.
My heart suddenly jumped, a bad feeling washing over me. "What is it?"
"Jared's in trouble!" Alger's voice was so urgent it was nearly breaking. "Come quick! He's at the Sapphire Restaurant in private room 888!"
The same restaurant... as me?
My brain went blank instantly, all the blood in my body seeming to freeze.
"He drank too much and got into a conflict with some people. They won't let it go and have him cornered in the private room! Come quickly—those people seem to know you, maybe you can talk to them!"
I didn't even have time to think through the logic of his words. My body reacted before my reason could.
I couldn't think about anything else and rushed out.
Just as I burst out of the hallway, I ran into David waiting outside.
"Sloane? What's wrong? Why do you look so terrible?" Seeing my panicked state, he quickly steadied me.
"There's an emergency at home, I have to leave right now!" I made up an excuse randomly, my voice trembling.
I went around him, not even having time to say goodbye to my colleagues, and stumbled toward where I remembered room 888 was.
Please don't let anything happen.
Jared, please don't let anything happen to you.
Only this one thought remained in my mind, my heart beating so fast it felt like it would jump out of my throat.
All reason, all determination, crumbled instantly the moment I heard he was in trouble.
I walked quickly over. The private room door was ajar, dim amber light seeping through the crack.
My heart pounded as I reached for the heavy wooden door. A sickeningly sweet voice drifted through the crack, making my breath catch in my throat.
"Jared, feed me..."
It was Keira's voice.
All my movements froze, my blood seeming to congeal in that moment.
Hadn't I just received a call saying Keira had attempted suicide? Hadn't Alger said Jared had gotten into a conflict here and was cornered?
Like a bewitched puppet, I moved closer to the door crack.
Inside the private room, crystal chandeliers sparkled brilliantly, the light hazy.
Jared wasn't surrounded by people as Alger had said. He sat perfectly fine on the sofa, and Keira—who had supposedly just "attempted suicide"—was now nestled against him like she had no bones.
She wore an exquisite white dress, her makeup perfect, without a trace of the dishevelment of someone who'd sought death.
She lifted her face to his, holding a glass of red wine to Jared's lips. He leaned down and drank from her hand. Then Keira took a sip, their arms intertwined as they shared the glass intimately.
With a crash, the last string in my mind snapped completely.
Like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, drenching me from inside out, chilling me to the bone.
All that worry, all that fear, all those prayers that nothing would happen to him—in this moment, it all became one huge joke.
I was the biggest fool.
A complete and utter fool who'd been played by them, who'd come running in a panic because of one lie.
Just then, a server with a tray approached and said politely, "Excuse me, coming through."
Without waiting for my response, he pushed open the private room door.