Chapter 4

The crisis at Barlow Seafood was far worse than Ethan had anticipated.

Within three days, foot traffic at his high-end locations plummeted.

The hundred-million-dollar investment Tiffany promised was constantly delayed in "compliance checks."

Patricia was frantic, digging for information everywhere.

Somehow, she heard a rumor that Julian, my new "poor boy," actually had connections to secure premium seafood.

That afternoon, I was having street tacos with Julian at an outdoor patio.

Julian was incredibly sweet, carefully squeezing lime juice over my tacos and wiping my fingers with a napkin.

"Try this, Sera. It's really good."

I had just taken a bite when a black Mercedes-Maybach screeched to a halt by the curb.

Ethan and Patricia stepped out, their faces grim.

Patricia stormed over and slammed her hand on our table, knocking over the salsa.

"Seraphina! Is this how I taught you to behave?"

"Have some self-respect!"

"Make this boy hand over the seafood supply chain right now, and Ethan might still forgive your little tantrum!"

Ethan stared at Julian's hand, which was gently brushing a stray hair from my face. His eyes burned with jealousy.

He stepped forward and grabbed my wrist.

"Sera, stop using this loser to make me jealous."

"What's the point of finding a pretty boy who has nothing going for him but his face?"

He suppressed his rage, his voice trembling.

"Just have him give me the supply chain, and I won't take back the fifty million."

"I can even offer him a job as a security guard at my company."

"Stop ruining your own life!"

I wrenched my wrist free, finding the mother and son utterly delusional.

"Mr. Barlow, are you confused?"

"We are divorced."

"Who I date and what I eat has absolutely nothing to do with you."

I grabbed a napkin to wipe my hands, looking at him coldly.

"And as for the supply chain, why on earth should Julian give it to you?"

"Because of your bloated ego? Or because your mother screams the loudest?"

Ethan was speechless.

Just then, several black SUVs pulled up.

The doors slid open, and a dozen muscular bodyguards in black suits poured out, surrounding our table.

Tiffany, stepping high on her Louboutins, walked over, escorted by her entourage.

She looked at the messy table, then at me, letting out a sharp laugh.

"I wondered who was bold enough to block our supply chain."

"Turns out it's just a discarded ex-wife playing sugar mommy to some boytoy!"

Tiffany walked up to Julian, lifting her chin arrogantly.

"Look, kid. I don't care what scam you used to get those supply lines."

"Hand them over. Now."

"Otherwise, I'll make sure you can't even beg for scraps in this city."

Julian popped a piece of taco into his mouth, chewed slowly, and didn't even look at her.

Feeling humiliated, Tiffany pointed at Julian and screamed.

"Trash his stand! Teach this boy a lesson!"

The bodyguards immediately lunged forward.

The patio erupted into chaos.

Tables were flipped, chairs shattered, and food flew everywhere.

Patricia stood on the side, screaming fake concern.

"Oh dear! Stop fighting! Stop it!"

But she kept backing away, and in the confusion, she gave me a vicious shove from behind.

I was standing near the edge of the patio. With her push, I lost my balance and fell hard onto the concrete, right onto some shattered glass.

A sharp pain shot through my palm. Fresh red blood immediately began to pool on my wrist.

"Sera!"

Julian tried to rush over to help me, but two bodyguards held him back.

I sat on the ground, looking at the blood on my hand, my eyes turning ice-cold.