Chapter 152 Pretend Girlfriend

Chapter 152 Pretend Girlfriend
Charlotte: POV

Restaurant security flooded the hallway, along with two police officers who must have been dining nearby. They grabbed Sean and his friends, pulling them away from Michael.

Sean was still screaming, struggling against the officers holding him. "She's mine! Mine! You can't have her! I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill all of you!"

His friends were subdued more easily, both nursing injuries from their encounter with Michael. The buzz-cut guy's nose was clearly broken, blood streaming down his face. The other one was cradling his arm, probably dislocated from that throw.

But Sean... Sean was beyond reason. It took three officers to restrain him, and even then he kept thrashing, his eyes wild and unfocused.

"He's on something," one of the officers said, pulling out handcuffs. "Pupils are dilated, he's sweating, aggressive behavior—classic signs."

I stared at Sean, really seeing him for the first time since this nightmare started. The man I'd once known—polished, controlled, calculating—was gone. In his place was this wild-eyed stranger, screaming obscenities as they dragged him away.

"Charlotte." Olivia appeared at my side, her hand steady on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." My voice sounded distant to my own ears. "Michael—"

I turned to find him standing a few feet away, blood soaking through his shirt in several places. His left arm hung slightly awkwardly, and I could see glass embedded in his jacket.

"You're hurt," I said, moving toward him.

"It's nothing." But I saw him wince as he tried to straighten.

"Like hell it's nothing." I grabbed his good arm. "We're going to the hospital. Now."

"Ms. Caldwell, I'm fine—"

"Charlotte," I corrected automatically. "And you're bleeding in at least three places. Don't argue with me."

Olivia was already on her phone again. "I'm calling this in to my PR team. Sean Thompson, high on drugs, attacking people at The Meridian? This is going to be everywhere by morning."

I looked at her, understanding dawning. "You're going to leak it."

"Damn right I am." Her smile was sharp. "That bastard tried to destroy you. Now he's destroyed himself, and the whole world is going to know exactly what kind of man he really is."

The police were taking statements, restaurant staff were cleaning up broken glass, and curious diners were being ushered away. The whole scene felt surreal, like something out of a nightmare.

"Ms. Caldwell?" One of the officers approached. "We'll need your statement."

"Of course." I glanced at Michael, who was trying to look professional despite the blood. "But first, I'm taking my security guard to get medical attention."

"I can wait—" Michael started.

"No," I said firmly. "You can't. You just took on three guys to protect me. The least I can do is make sure you're not bleeding to death."

Olivia touched my arm. "Go. I'll handle things here. And Charlotte?" She leaned in close. "Sean being high on drugs? That's not just career-ending. That's criminal charges on top of the assault case. Between that and the other dirt I've dug up on him..." Her smile turned predatory. "He's done. Completely done."

I squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

"Thank me by getting that man to a hospital." She nodded toward Michael. "He earned it."

Olivia then turned to the police and said, "I'll give a statement too. I'm also a witness."

I turned to Michael, who was still trying to maintain his professional composure despite looking like he'd been through a war zone.

"Come on," I said, pulling him gently toward the exit. "Let's get you patched up."

"Ms. Caldwell—"

"Charlotte," I corrected again. "And stop arguing. You just saved my ass. Again. The least you can do is let me return the favor."

As we walked toward my car, I could still hear Sean's muffled screaming from the police vehicle. The sound sent a chill down my spine, but it was mixed with something else.

Whatever Sean had been before, whatever threat he'd posed—it was over now.

I unlocked my car, helping Michael into the passenger seat. His face was pale, jaw tight with pain he was trying not to show.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "For protecting me. For... everything."

He looked at me, and for the first time since I'd hired him, his professional mask slipped completely. "Always," he said simply.

The word hung between us, weighted with meaning I wasn't ready to examine.

I started the car, pulling out of The Meridian's parking lot. Behind us, police lights flashed in the darkness, and I knew that by morning, Sean Thompson's fall from grace would be complete.

But right now, all that mattered was getting Michael somewhere safe. Somewhere he could be taken care of, the way he'd taken care of me.

---

The emergency room at San Francisco General was surprisingly busy for a weeknight. Fluorescent lights cast everything in harsh white, and the smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air. I kept my hand on Michael's good arm as we approached the intake desk, acutely aware of how we must look—him bloody and battered, me in my expensive business attire hovering protectively beside him.

"We need someone to look at him," I said to the nurse at the desk. "He was attacked. Multiple lacerations, possible shoulder injury."

The nurse, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and graying hair pulled back in a tight bun, looked up from her computer. Her gaze swept over Michael's injuries, then shifted to me, then back to Michael. Something in her expression softened.

"Of course, honey. Let me get you checked in." She pulled up a form on her screen. "Name?"

"Michael Sullivan," he said, his voice tight with pain.

The nurse's fingers flew across the keyboard, then she paused, looking between us with a knowing smile. "And are you two... together? Boyfriend and girlfriend?"

There was a beat of silence. I felt Michael tense beside me, clearly about to say no, to explain the professional nature of our relationship.

"Yes," I said quickly, before I could think better of it. "Yes, we are."

Michael's head whipped toward me so fast I was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. His ears turned bright red, color flooding up his neck and into his cheeks.

"Ms. Caldwell—" he started, clearly about to correct the misunderstanding.

"Charlotte," I interrupted smoothly, squeezing his arm gently. A warning.

The nurse smiled warmly, completely oblivious to Michael's obvious discomfort. "Well, aren't you sweet, bringing him in yourself. Most girlfriends would've just called an ambulance." She typed something into her computer. "Okay, Michael, we're going to get you back to a room shortly. The doctor will want to clean those cuts and check that shoulder."

Another nurse appeared, this one younger, with bright purple scrubs and a nose ring. She took one look at us and grinned. "Aw, look at you two. Don't worry, sweetie, we'll get your man all fixed up."