Chapter 151 Collision Course

Chapter 151 Collision Course
Charlotte：POV

The relief flooding through me after Robert Harrison's handshake was so intense I thought my knees might actually buckle.

Holy shit. I'd done it. Six months to prove myself, but I'd gotten my foot in the door with one of the biggest players in Northern California development.

"Let's get out of here before I pass out," I muttered to Olivia as the Harrison team filed out.

She squeezed my shoulder. "You were incredible. That transparency clause was genius."

Michael appeared at my elbow, his presence steady and reassuring. "Ready to leave, Ms. Caldwell?"

"Charlotte," I corrected automatically, then caught myself. After what we'd just accomplished, the formality felt ridiculous. "And yes. God, yes. I need air."

We gathered our things and headed toward the exit. The Meridian's hallway stretched before us, all polished marble and soft lighting.

My heels clicked against the floor, each step feeling lighter than the last. I'd actually pulled it off. Me. Charlotte Caldwell, CEO for exactly one week, had just secured a potential $50 million deal.

"I can't believe that just happened," I said, allowing myself a small smile.

"Believe it." Olivia's voice was warm with pride. "You earned every second of that handshake."

Michael stayed slightly ahead of us, his eyes constantly scanning.

We were maybe twenty feet from the main entrance when I heard it.

"Well, well. If it isn't Charlotte fucking Caldwell."

The voice hit me like ice water. I froze, every muscle in my body tensing.

Sean Thompson stood in the hallway ahead of us, blocking our path.

He wasn't alone—three guys flanked him, all wearing expensive suits that couldn't quite hide their predatory postures. They looked like they'd crawled out of some Wall Street nightmare, all slicked hair and cold eyes.

But it was Sean who made my stomach drop.

He looked wrong. His pupils were dilated, his movements jerky and unpredictable. He swayed slightly, like he was having trouble staying upright. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

"Sean." I kept my voice level, though my heart was hammering. "Get out of my way."

"Get out of your way?" He laughed, the sound harsh and unhinged. "That's rich. You think you can just destroy my life and walk away?"

Michael moved immediately, stepping between us. "Sir, you need to back up."

Sean's bloodshot eyes fixed on Michael, and his lip curled. "Oh, look. The bodyguard. What, Charlotte, you paying this pretty boy to keep you warm at night? That how you operate now? Buy yourself some muscle?"

"Watch your mouth," Michael said, his voice dropping to a dangerous level.

I put a hand on Michael's arm, feeling the tension coiled beneath his suit jacket. "Don't. He's not worth it."

Sean's gaze shifted to Olivia, and his expression twisted into something uglier. "And Mrs. Parker. All dressed up in your power suits, playing at being businesswomen. What big deal did you two just close? Another scheme to ruin someone's life?"

Olivia's face remained perfectly composed, but I saw the steel in her eyes. "You ruined your own life, Sean. We just helped expose it."

"Bullshit!" Sean's voice rose, drawing attention from other diners. "You two bitches set me up! That restaurant footage was doctored, the charges were fake—"

"The footage showed exactly what happened," I cut him off. "You and your friends assaulted me. That's on you."

I tried to step around him, pulling Olivia with me. This conversation was going nowhere, and Sean's erratic behavior was setting off every alarm bell in my head. Something was seriously wrong with him—his eyes were too bright, his movements too jerky. The way he kept rubbing his nose...

Oh shit. Was he high?

"Don't you fucking walk away from me!" Sean lunged forward, grabbing my arm.

Michael moved like lightning. One second Sean had me, the next he was stumbling backward, Michael's hand locked around his wrist in a grip that looked painful.

"I said back up," Michael's voice was cold as ice.

Sean's friends moved forward, and suddenly the hallway erupted into chaos.

One of them—a stocky guy with a buzz cut—swung at Michael. Michael blocked the punch with his forearm, twisted, and sent the guy crashing into the wall with a sickening thud.

The second attacker tried to grab Michael from behind, but Michael dropped low, using the momentum to flip the guy over his shoulder. The man hit the marble floor hard enough that I heard the air leave his lungs.

Sean, meanwhile, had recovered and was charging at me again, his face contorted with rage. "I told you at the police station I wouldn't let you off easy! Those two idiots I sent last time were completely useless—couldn't even finish you off, just got their asses kicked and came crawling back with their faces all bruised up."

"This time I won't let you get away." He staggered slightly.

So the attack last time really was his doing.

Michael intercepted him, but Sean was fighting like a man possessed. He threw wild punches, his movements uncoordinated but desperate. One caught Michael on the shoulder, another glanced off his ribs.

"Charlotte, get back!" Olivia pulled me toward the wall, already dialing on her phone. "Security, we need security at The Meridian immediately—"

The third attacker grabbed a wine bottle from a nearby service cart. Time seemed to slow as he raised it above his head, his eyes fixed on Michael with murderous intent.

"Michael!" I screamed.

He spun around just in time to dodge the first swing, but the guy wouldn't let up. Glass exploded against the wall as Michael ducked and weaved, doing his best to protect himself while keeping Sean away from me.

"You're fucking my woman!" Sean shrieked, his voice cracking. He grabbed another bottle, this one still full. "You think you can just take her? She's MINE!"

He hurled the bottle at Michael. It caught him on the left arm, shattering on impact. Blood bloomed through Michael's white shirt, but he didn't stop moving.

The buzz-cut guy had recovered and was coming at Michael again, this time with a broken bottle of his own. Michael caught his wrist, twisted hard, and drove his elbow into the man's face. The crunch of cartilage was audible even over Sean's continued screaming.

But they kept coming. All three of them, eyes wild, throwing bottles like weapons. Michael was good—better than good—but even he couldn't dodge everything.

Another bottle caught him across the back. He grunted but stayed on his feet, positioning himself between the attackers and me. Every time Sean tried to get around him, Michael was there, blocking, redirecting, keeping me safe.

"Enough!" A commanding voice cut through the chaos.