Chapter 108
At that moment, Amelia stood up. She picked up her wine glass from the table, putting on a proper smile again.
But no matter how you looked at it, that smile seemed forced.
However, her words carried hidden meaning: "James, we're really happy that you brought Sophia to meet us. It shows you truly accept her as your wife."
"Sophia, from now on, you're James's real wife. Don't be willful like before or lose your temper with him. You two need to get along well."
I looked at her, feeling nothing but absurdity.
Who was she putting on this elder act for?
She was James's brother's wife, and she really saw herself as my elder?
She wanted to be an elder, but had she ever done anything an elder should do?
I didn't give her a pleasant look either, keeping a cold face and looking down at my nails.
James nodded, took the drink the waiter handed him, raised it slightly, and said flatly, "Thanks."
His distant tone made Amelia's body sway almost imperceptibly.
Seeing that Amelia had made a toast, the others finally raised their glasses, offering blessings that I could tell were insincere.
The atmosphere was awkward and weird.
James seemed oblivious to this strange atmosphere.
"Do you want to eat something?"
I said flatly, "Not hungry. Don't worry about me."
James looked at me a few times and ordered a fruit plate for me: "Have some fruit first. Tell me later if you want anything else."
I acknowledged with a sound.
What followed was some fake small talk. After the pleasantries, they started talking business, but people kept steering the conversation back to James and me, fishing for details about our marriage.
James answered briefly.
The others probably noticed he didn't want to say much and stopped asking.
I sipped my juice in small gulps, trying to minimize my presence to avoid them remembering me and trying to chat.
Amelia also rarely spoke, just sitting there quietly. Occasionally, she'd look up at James with resentful eyes, then quickly lower her gaze again, fidgeting with her glass.
After a while, feeling really stifled, I said quietly to James, "I'm going to the restroom."
He glanced at me and nodded.
Walking out of that suffocating booth, I let out a long breath.
The music in the bar's public area was even louder than inside. I covered my ears as I walked to the restroom.
After using the restroom, I was fixing my hair in the mirror, thinking about what excuse I could use to leave early, when I suddenly saw someone in the mirror leaning against the wall by the door.
It was that man in the floral shirt. I remembered people calling him "Bruce."
He definitely wasn't here with good intentions. My heart tightened, but I kept my face calm, turning to walk past him.
But he stepped sideways, blocking me again, wearing a sleazy smile full of malice: "Mrs. Smith? I call you Mrs. Smith, but do you dare answer?"
I stopped and looked at him coldly: "What do you want?"
"Nothing major, just a reminder." Bruce leaned closer, and a wave of alcohol hit my face. "Be smart and stay away from James."
"He's Amelia's man. They're the perfect match. A woman like you who came out of nowhere shouldn't try to climb above your station."
I never expected Bruce to chase me outside the women's restroom for Amelia's sake.
I sneered inwardly but kept my face neutral: "What's between James and me is none of your business as an outsider."
"Outsider?" Bruce seemed provoked, his voice rising. "I grew up with James and Amelia! You're the outsider!"
"I'm warning you, leave James on your own. If James kicks you out in the end, you'll be the one embarrassed."
I looked at him with a half-smile, studying his expression as he stood up for Amelia, then suddenly asked: "You're so defensive of Amelia—you like her, don't you?"
Bruce froze, a flash of panic crossing his face, then he became angry from embarrassment: "What are you talking about? I just see Amelia as my sister!"
"Sister?" I laughed mockingly. "More like the object of your affection."
My eyes were teasing: "You know perfectly well she likes James, yet you still jump to defend her. What do you call that kind of behavior?"
"What's that word again?" I touched my chin, thinking. "Is it called being a simp?"
I shook my head again: "Actually, you probably don't even qualify as a simp. At most, you're just a pathetic fool with unrequited feelings."
"Bitch!" Bruce was hit right on the sore spot by me, and turned red in the face. He suddenly reached out and grabbed my throat, slamming me hard against the cold tile wall.
"Say that again, I dare you!"
Sharp pain shot through my back and neck, and I could barely breathe.
I hadn't expected him to actually attack me. I struggled to pry his hand off.
He was very strong—I couldn't budge his grip at all.
"Let me tell you, Amelia saved James's life! James promised to take care of her forever! You homewrecker, what are you to compete with Amelia for James?" he growled viciously, his fingers tightening.
The lack of oxygen made my vision darken. Survival instinct kicked in, and I stopped hesitating—I raised my knee and used all my strength to slam it into his crotch!
Bruce let out a scream. His grip loosened, and he bent over in pain.
I took the chance to break free and, with all my strength, delivered a crisp slap across his face!
Then, without even looking at him, gasping in pain, I turned and ran back to the booth.
My heart was pounding in my chest, and my neck burned with pain.
When I rushed back to the booth, my hair was messy, my breathing rapid, and I hadn't had time to fully hide the panic and anger on my face.
Once again, I attracted everyone's attention.
James also looked over immediately. When his eyes fell on the obvious red marks and fingerprints on my neck, his expression darkened instantly, a terrifying storm gathering in his eyes.
He stood up, crossed to me in a few steps, raised his other hand, and gently touched the bruise on my neck with his fingertips. His voice was ice-cold: "Who did this?"
James's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an oppressive sense of an approaching storm, silencing those who had been whispering.
Everyone's eyes focused on him and me, but more specifically on the glaring red marks on my neck.
Before I could speak, there came sounds of suppressed gasping and stumbling footsteps from the booth entrance.
That Bruce, clutching his crotch, limped in. His face still bore a clear handprint, his expression twisted.
He was both in pain and furious.
"James! This woman is crazy, she hit me!" Bruce pointed at my nose as soon as he entered, complaining first. "I was just kindly reminding her, and she attacked me! Look at my face! And also..."
He didn't finish that last sentence, just kept clutching his crotch.