Chapter 99
Anna’s POV:
Claire’s ballet fans formed a human barrier between us and the street
“Anna! Henry!” Emily’s voice was swallowed by the crowd as she was pushed away from us. Henry tried to reach for my arm, but the mob quickly separated us.
A phone appeared inches from my face, the flash momentarily blinding me. I instinctively raised my arms to shield myself, which only seemed to trigger the crowd.
“Anna, is it? Why are you hiding your face? Ashamed of what you did a young woman shouted, her face contorted with anger.
“Claire lost her principal dancer position at Starlit Ballet because of you! Do you have any idea what that means for her career?” another yelled, pushing closer to me.
“She took a knife for you, and now her right leg has a scar! Her dancing will never be the same!”
“You probably destroyed her entire career! Are you happy now?”
I remained silent, which only intensified their fury. Their accusations escalated to personal attacks and curses against my family, saying I deserved to have no one protecting me.”
‘Not that it matters to you, but I’ve already lost both my parents,‘ I thought bitterly.
My mind raced as I was jostled from all sides. I’d declined Caroline’s offer of a bodyguard during my cold war with Blake–a decision I now deeply regretted.
I’d completely underestimated these fans‘ aggression. They weren’t just angry; they were out for blood.
The air felt thick with hostility. My chest tightened as claustrophobia set in. There had to be at least thirty people surrounding us, their faces blurring together in a sea of hatred.
How did they even know I’d be here tonight? The dinner was planned last minute, with only Henry, Emily, and a few EcoMarine staff knowing the location.
Then it hit me–Emily had called me earlier to confirm the time while I was at the Seaside Manor. Claire must have overheard.
“I’ve already explained to my fans that my injury was an accident, not your fault, Claire had told me with that sweet smile of hers just last week. Looking at the rage in these people’s eyes, that was clearly a lie.
She hadn’t corrected anything–she might have even encouraged them.
It explained why I’d been running into her fans so frequently lately. Someone was tracking my movements.
I stumbled as someone shoved me hard from behind. Hands grabbed at my clothes while voices screamed, “It’s all because of you that Claire got hurt!” The crowd pressed closer, their bodies radiating heat and anger.
All I could see were faces and cold camera lenses capturing my humiliation from every angle. The thought of this footage appearing online made my stomach turn.
Riiip!
My blouse tore at the shoulder, exposing skin. Sharp pain followed as someone pinched my arm while ripping at my clothes. I
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Chapter 99
yelped and tried to cover myself, which only made them more aggressive.
“This is the bitch who hurt Claire! If not for her, Claire would be the principal dancer at Starlit now! Let’s strip her down and see if she knows what shame feels like!”
The young woman who said this couldn’t have been more than twenty, her face twisted with a cruelty that shocked me. It was like being back in middle school, surrounded by bullies. I never imagined I’d face this kind of mob mentality as an adult.
“Don’t you dare!” Henry shouted from somewhere in the crowd, his usually calm, refined voice transformed by rage.
I caught a glimpse of him trying to push through a wall of men who blocked his path. His glasses were askew, his normally immaculate appearance disheveled.
I noticed the pattern then–this was organized. The men in our group were being handled by male fans, while women surrounded Emily and me.
This wasn’t a spontaneous outburst; it was a coordinated attack. Through the chaos, I spotted Emily being cornered against the restaurant wall, her face pale with fear.
Riiip! My blouse tore again, exposing my bra strap. A camera flashed, capturing the moment.
Rage burned through me like wildfire. I’d been trying to avoid trouble before our marine conservation project launch, walking on eggshells for weeks.
But this was too much. This wasn’t just about me anymore–they were threatening my colleagues, my friends.
I shoved the woman in front of me with all my strength, sending her stumbling backward to the ground. Her phone clattered across the pavement.
I shouted over the noise, surprising myself with the power in my voice. “Does Claire know what you’re doing? If she really cared about the truth, why isn’t she here explaining things herself?”
A moment of stunned silence fell before the mob erupted even more violently, like I’d thrown gasoline on a fire.
“You bitch! Do you really think this is all Claire’s fault? She was so kind to protect you back then, and this is how you repay her?” screamed a furious man.
“Anna Wright is attacking people! She is assaulting fans!” Another voice rose from the crowd.
“Claire got injured saving you, and you’re still ungrateful! You don’t deserve to be a Wright!”
More hands grabbed me from all sides. Despite fighting back, digging my heels in and swinging my arms, I was overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
That’s when I heard it–the aggressive honking of car horns cutting through the chaos like a knife. The crowd turned toward the sound.
“Move! Move or we’ll drive right through! We can afford the damages a commanding voice bellowed through a megaphone.
A line of black SUVS pushed through the crowd, forcing people to scramble aside. The vehicles created a protective barrier, and dozens of security personnel in black suits poured out, forming a human wall between me and the mob.
They moved with military precision, clearly professionals rather than the usual Wright family security detail.
The center Rolls Royce door opened, and Blake stepped out, his tall figure imposing in the chaos. His eyes swept over the scene with icy control, a dangerous smile playing on his lips.
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Mon, May
Chapter 99
“Take them all to the police station,” he ordered, his voice carrying easily despite not raising it. “Every single one.”
The security team began collecting phones and detaining the most aggressive fans, who suddenly looked much less confident.
Before I could process what was happening, Blake strode directly to me, grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms, wrapping his sult jacket around my torn clothes.
The familiar scent of his cologne–sandalwood and something distinctly him–enveloped me as he carried me toward the car.
“Wait–Emily and Henry-” I tried to look back, concerned about my colleagues still somewhere in the chaos.
“They’ll be fine,” Blake assured me, his voice surprisingly gentle against my ear. “I’ve already arranged everything. Seth is taking care of Henry, and Michael is handling Emily’s security. I’ve booked our flights too. We’re going on our honeymoon, somewhere far from this mess.”
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