Chapter 15
In the end, he said nothing. He just stood there in silence, accepting Amelia's attack on me.
The last bit of ridiculous, faint hope I had for him completely disappeared.
In that awkward and suffocating silence, a warm hand gently rested on my shoulder.
Andrew stepped forward, half-shielding me behind him. With a gentle yet firm smile on his face, he looked calmly at Amelia. "Ms. Martinez, a person's background doesn't define their worth. Sophia is standing here because of her own irreplaceable talent and abilities, not because of any family connections."
His voice was clear and strong, carrying across the nearby area, successfully making those judgmental looks fade a bit.
He paused, then turned his gaze to James, whose face had turned terrifyingly dark, and nodded politely but distantly. "Mr. Smith, nice to meet you."
James's eyes were fixed like ice picks on Andrew's hand resting on my shoulder. The cold aura radiating from him seemed to drop the temperature around us by several degrees.
He completely ignored Andrew's greeting. His angry eyes turned to me, his voice squeezing through clenched teeth, carrying undisguised accusation and an intense possessiveness that even he hadn't noticed. "Sophia, come home with me."
Before I could speak, Amelia, as if she'd found some huge leverage, immediately cried out in that affected tone of hers, just loud enough to make sure everyone around could hear. "Sophia, how could you do this? You and James aren't even divorced yet! And here you are, already appearing in public with another man, being so intimate with him. Isn't this cheating?"
The words "cheating" spread through the crowd like a virus.
But the focus of people's gossip didn't go as she'd hoped.
Everyone was more interested in me, James's wife, who had never appeared in public.
"What? She's Mr. Smith's mysterious wife?"
"Oh my god, Mrs. Smith is so beautiful!"
"No wonder Mr. Smith kept her hidden all this time—he was keeping a treasure!"
"Wait, so who's this guy next to her..."
"Looks like wealthy family drama is way more interesting than tech gossip..."
They immediately changed the topic of discussion, shifting from guessing my identity to digging into the relationship between James, me, and Amelia.
Those looks that had been full of judgment and curiosity now filled with excited gossip and a certain subtle disdain.
Several business partners who had been trying to get on the Smith Group's good side immediately gathered around, their faces plastered with enthusiastic smiles, showering me with compliments.
"So you're Mrs. Smith! What an honor to meet you!"
"Mr. Smith is so lucky—Mrs. Smith is so stunning and elegant!"
"Yes, Mr. Smith never brought Mrs. Smith to events, and we thought... turns out he was just protecting you well!"
Hearing these flattering words, I found them incredibly ironic.
They had no idea what kind of life I'd lived as James's wife for the past two years—ignored and doubted.
Watching me surrounded by people, hearing compliments meant for her directed at me instead, Amelia could barely maintain her smile. The jealousy and hatred in her eyes were about to overflow.
She instinctively tightened her grip on James's arm, as if declaring her ownership.
Just then, a slightly confused voice spoke up—not loud, but clearly cutting through the noise.
"If this lady is Mrs. Smith, then Ms. Martinez here—isn't she Mr. Smith's late brother's wife? Why does she always appear at events on Mr. Smith's arm, acting like Mrs. Smith?"
As soon as those words came out, it was like hitting a mute button. The surrounding area instantly quieted down.
Everyone's eyes, filled with curiosity and understanding, moved back and forth between Amelia clinging tightly to James's arm, and me, James's actual wife.
Amelia's face instantly turned pale. Her hand on James's arm seemed to get burned, and she awkwardly and unnaturally let go.
Forcing a smile, her eyes panicked as she tried to explain.
"James and I are like family. After Jasper passed away, it's only natural that we support each other."
However, her explanation seemed so weak and powerless at this moment.
Everyone here was smart—who would believe that?
This ambiguous wording, combined with the image of her and James being inseparable all this time, was enough to make people's imaginations run wild.
James's face had become extremely dark.
He'd clearly heard the surrounding gossip and that question that hit the nail on the head, and he'd felt the gap and awkwardness when Amelia let go of his arm.
His eyes were fixed on my face, complex emotions churning within them.
The next second, before I could react, he suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist, with such force that I couldn't struggle at all. "Come with me!"
"Mr. Smith." Andrew's voice was gentle but carried an unmovable strength as he grabbed my other wrist.
"Please wait. Whether Sophia is willing to go with you should be her own decision."
Andrew and James's gazes clashed in the air—cold versus warm, but equally strong in their confrontation.
The air in the banquet hall seemed to freeze. The whispers around us disappeared.
"I'm not willing." I said it clearly.
Andrew's grip tightened, forming a standoff with James. "Mr. Smith, have you heard her? She's not willing."
A terrifying storm churned in James's eyes. He suddenly shook off Andrew's hand, each word like ice. "I'm her husband. Taking my own wife home is perfectly reasonable."
"Husband?" Andrew laughed lightly, the smile not reaching his eyes. "A husband who lets his wife be humiliated in public?"
The air between Andrew and James was stretched to its limit, danger silently spreading.
James said nothing more. He pulled me into his arms with absolute force, holding me as he turned around.
"Let go!" Andrew moved to stop him.
"Think carefully about the cost of being my enemy." James's voice carried an undisguised threat.
In the moment Andrew hesitated, James had already forcefully led me through the crowd, disappearing at the banquet hall entrance.
"James!" Amelia called out in panic from behind.
James didn't even pause for a second, as if he hadn't heard her at all.
He pulled me through those surprised, curious, or amused looks, straight out of the noisy banquet hall, and stuffed me into his black Rolls-Royce parked at the entrance.
He pulled out that silver lighter from his pocket, the crisp sound cutting through the awkward silence.
He rarely smoked. Through the hazy smoke, he squinted slightly, his Adam's apple moving. "You've really grown bold."