Chapter 58 Eating
Sloane's POV
As he spoke, he reached out, trying to grab my wrist.
I jerked back sharply, dodging his touch.
"Mr. Montclair," David stepped forward, subtly positioning himself between us. His blue eyes darkened with displeasure, and his tone turned cold. "I think you should respect Sloane's wishes."
Two equally tall men—one cold and domineering, the other gentle but firm—locked eyes. The atmosphere instantly became tense.
I didn't want to drag innocent colleagues into my messy life.
I took a deep breath, stepped out from behind David, and forced a smile at him and Jessie, who looked frozen in place. "Sorry, David, Jessie. I have some personal matters to handle. I'll have to leave early today. Dinner's on me."
Without even glancing at Jared, I grabbed my coat from the chair and headed straight for the exit.
Jared's face darkened as he immediately followed.
Outside the restaurant, the evening breeze helped cool my burning head a little.
I didn't stop, walking quickly toward the curb, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.
"Sloane!" He caught up in a few strides and grabbed my arm with frightening force.
I was forced to stop and turned to look at him coldly. "Let go."
Not only did he not let go, but he pulled me closer. His unfathomable eyes churned with suppressed rage. "Were you defending him just now?"
His accusation was absurdly laughable.
I looked at his jaw, tight with anger, and suddenly laughed—a laugh without a trace of warmth. "Jared, don't you think you're overstepping?"
I met his dark gaze and asked deliberately, word by word: "Before I question you, shouldn't you deal with your relationship with Keira first? Or do you think I didn't receive the photos she sent me of you caring for her so attentively at her hospital bed?"
My words hit their mark, cutting through all his false bravado.
The anger on his face instantly faded, replaced by embarrassment and panic at being exposed. "That's not what you think!" he explained urgently. "I was just..."
"I don't want to hear it." I cut him off coldly, already tired of his perpetually weak explanations. "To me, you and him are the same kind of person—both troubles I want to get rid of immediately. Now, can you let go of me?"
My words were as cold as my gaze, like a bucket of cold water dousing all his anger and possessiveness.
His grip on my arm gradually loosened.
Those bloodshot eyes stared at me, filled with pain and struggle I couldn't understand.
Finally, like a deflated balloon, he dropped his arm dejectedly.
"Let's get something to eat." His voice was hoarse, tinged with an almost pleading exhaustion.
I didn't agree, but I didn't refuse either. I just turned and walked silently toward his car parked by the curb.
He chose a different restaurant.
He didn't make any more inappropriate moves, just sat quietly across from me, acting like a true gentleman—pulling out my chair, handing me the menu, even thoughtfully pouring me a glass of warm water while I looked at the menu.
The more he acted this way, the deeper my mockery grew.
"Jared," I put down the menu and looked at his handsome face that screamed "I'm trying to be better," the corner of my mouth twitching. "Don't waste your energy. Being nice to me now won't help."
His hand paused while pouring water. He looked up, his eyes dark and unclear.
Silence spread between us, oppressive and suffocating.
"At the orphanage last time, I already knew you had medical skills." He suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.
I froze for a moment, then realized he was referring to when Grayson passed away.
"So what?" I asked, my tone carrying a hint of wariness.
"I just didn't know you were this good." He looked at me, his voice low. "Good enough... to become a top surgeon."
His words felt incredibly ironic.
I looked at him, this man who was nominally closest to me, and asked word by word, "Jared, besides knowing I'm an orphan from a welfare home and that my mother is Isabelle Winslow, what else do you know about me?"
My question hit him like a boulder.
He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing, but couldn't get a single word out. Those eyes usually full of control showed clear confusion and guilt for the first time.
After a long while, he finally found his voice, hoarse. "I'm sorry."
He looked at me with unprecedented seriousness. "I neglected you in the past. I'll make it up to you."
Make it up to me?
I lowered my eyes, picked up my water glass, and watched the lemon slice swaying inside.
His so-called compensation—would it be money, or the title of young Mrs. Montclair? These things I might have once hoped for now just seemed laughable.
"Where are you... living now?" He hesitated, but still asked. "The Winslow family, I heard..."
He knew Isabelle wouldn't let me come home.
This was probably one of the few times he'd shown genuine concern for me.
Too bad it was too late.
I looked up, met his searching gaze, and calmly said four words.
"None of your business."
The last glimmer of hope in Jared's eyes died out, leaving only thick, impenetrable darkness.
He stood there stiffly, looking at me like I was a phantom about to disappear.
The meal finally ended in dead silence.
I stood up to leave, but he suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse: "Wait a moment, I prepared something for you."
I didn't respond, just pretended not to hear and walked straight toward the restaurant exit.
He didn't chase after me, which surprised me a little.
I stood by the curb, the evening breeze making me feel cold. I instinctively pulled my coat tighter.
I took out my phone, wanting to see if Lila had sent any updates about the patient.
The screen had just lit up when a dark figure suddenly lunged at me from the side.
Before I could react, my wrist was grabbed with great force, my phone was violently snatched away, and then with a "bang," it was smashed onto the hard concrete, the screen instantly shattering into pieces.
"Sloane!" Keira's shrill voice pierced my eardrums.
I looked up. Her carefully made-up face was twisted with jealousy and malice. The cast on her leg made her look both ridiculous and deranged, but the hatred in her eyes was terrifyingly real. "You bitch! Why won't you just leave Jared alone!"
She raised her hand, her bright red nails slashing toward my face.
I dodged to the side, grabbed her swinging arm, and pushed forward hard.