Chapter 68: The Bar Confrontation
“Stop fucking bothering me.” Damian slurred, his curse mostly swallowed by the blaring club music. “Just get lost.” He only wanted to be alone, to scrub that woman’s face from his mind.
“Don’t hang up, Damian,” Sienna said. “I’m really worried about you. Are you alone? Have you been drinking?”
“None of your damn business.” He snapped, fumbling to hit the end call button, but his fingers kept missing the screen.
Just then, Alex leaned over, took the phone, and spoke into the receiver. “Sienna? It’s Alex. Damian is completely wasted at the EO Club.”
Damian frowned, trying to snatch the phone back, but Alex held his shoulder.
“Oh, Alex,” Sienna replied. “That sounds like trouble. How is he? Should I come over?”
“No, no,” Alex said loudly. “Let his wife come get him.”
Without waiting for Sienna's reply, Alex hung up and scrolled through his contacts. Damian’s mind was sludge. He vaguely registered Alex’s action annoyed him but lacked the strength to stop it. Alex quickly found “Evelyn” and dialed.
The phone rang just as Evelyn put the last of her clothes into a suitcase. She ignored it. It rang persistently, over and over. Finally, she picked up the strange number, answering without a word.
“Hello? Is this Evelyn? It’s Alex, Damian’s friend.” Evelyn recognized the voice. Alex had been the best man at their wedding. “What is it?”
“Uh… Damian is passed out at the EO Club. He’s completely wasted, and we’re too drunk to take him home. Could you… could you come pick him up?”
“He’s an adult. I assume he can get himself home.” Evelyn rejected the request instantly. Why should she clean up his mess?
Silence on the other end. “Evelyn, I know you two are probably fighting, but you’re still married. It’s your duty to look after your drunk husband, isn’t it?”
Duty? She had been shackled by that single word for eight years—sacrificing her education, her career, her self. All for what? Scars and humiliation. She wanted to hang up, but then realized: the more she refused, the more Damian and his friends would confirm her as "unreasonable" and "difficult." Maybe this is the last time.
“The address,” she said.
When Evelyn arrived at the EO Club, she was instantly overwhelmed by the blaring music and chaos. She navigated with distaste through the sweaty crowd, searching for the familiar, yet strange, silhouette.
She found Damian in a corner booth, but he wasn't alone. He was slumped on the sofa, his tie crooked, his face flushed. Beside him, Sienna was clutching him tightly, her head resting on his shoulder, one hand tenderly stroking his neck, her red lips nearly touching his ear as she whispered something.
Damian, the man who had just roared at her and shredded her last dignity at home, now leaned heavily into Sienna's embrace like a weary child. One of his arms hung limp, but the other was wrapped tightly around Sienna's slender waist, his face buried in her neck. They looked like a couple deep in love.
Evelyn’s feet froze. Her heart was squeezed by an invisible hand, making every breath painful. She thought she was numb. She thought she would never hurt over him again.
Just then, Sienna lifted her head. Her eyes found Evelyn’s across the moving crowd. A victorious smile curled her lips. Then, she lowered her head and kissed Damian’s cheek. It was a silent challenge.
Evelyn felt the blood rush to her head, then instantly freeze. She couldn't stay. She turned and fled the suffocating club.
Sienna watched Evelyn's desperate retreat. She helped the heavily drunk Damian up and told Alex, "I guess Evelyn isn't coming. I'll take him home." Alex readily agreed.
Sienna didn't take him back to his mansion. She shoved him into a taxi and gave her own apartment address—a luxury unit Damian had bought her. It took considerable effort for Sienna to drag the drunk man into the apartment and onto the bed. Damian landed heavily, mumbling incoherently.
“Evelyn… you bitch… how dare you…”
Sienna’s face tightened. She leaned down. "Damian, I'm here. I'm the one who loves you."
Alcohol and the rage of betrayal had destroyed Damian’s sanity. He smelled the familiar rose perfume—not Evelyn’s gardenia. But he couldn’t tell the difference. He only knew he needed an outlet—a place to unleash all his anger and humiliation.
He abruptly rolled over, pinning her beneath him with a rough move. He used her as a substitute. His kisses were punitive, biting and plundering, as if he meant to pour out all his pain. Sienna welcomed his roughness, groaning with satisfaction.