Chapter 233
Chapter 233
Clayton, having taken the phone, quickly typed in a question before handing it to Emilia.
[The man with Audrey… is he her boyfriend?]
She glanced at the message, nodded slightly, and deleted everything from the notes app without saying a word.
When she made no move to return the phone, Clayton took out his own and typed again before showing it to her.
[Is he good to Audrey? When did they meet? Who is he, and what does he do?]
To Emilia, his questions were naive at best. If Yann hadn’t treated Audrey well, she wouldn’t have grown into the person she was now. Emilia had no idea when the two had first met, and as for Yann’s identity, she doubted Clayton could handle the truth.
She held the phone in her hands for a long moment and then finally typed a short reply.
[You’ll find out after we land.]
After handing back his phone, Emilia leaned back and closed her eyes. With Calvin and Ryder both nearby, she knew Clayton wouldn’t dare pester her. She decided to ignore his restless curiosity altogether.
As the plane climbed into the stratosphere, the cabin crew began their service.
The first class had its own attendants, leaving Clayton with no excuse to loiter nearby.
“I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m going to take a nap,” Yann said, draping a blanket over Audrey’s knees.
Audrey adjusted her seat, raising the back slightly. “It’s only a two–and–a–half–hour flight. I won’t sleep. Want to play a game?”
Yann requested a cocktail for her and a glass of red wine for himself.
“What do I get if I win?” he asked.
Audrey’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “If I win, we’re having sex on my terms this month.”
They had been having sex far too frequently lately.
She used to look forward to Yann returning to Ashbourne, if only to dodge another night.
But now that she was headed back with him, there was nowhere left to hide.
Yann gave a small nod. “And if I win, you wear that outfit again.”
The memory of the leopard–print getup made Audrey grit her teeth. She didn’t stand a chance against him physically, so she’d have to
instead.
him
“Deal. But I get to choose the game.”
In chess, Audrey had reached an amateur 5–dan rank, impressive by most standards, but hardly enough to challenge Yann.
She needed to change the rules in her favor.
“We’re playing Wolf Eats Sheep,” she announced with a grin.
She explained the rules cheerfully. The wolf could only eat a sheep by jumping over a space. If surrounded by sheep, the wolf lost, and if it managed to eat them all, it won.
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“Let’s do a trial round first.” Audrey set up the board on her tablet, and the game began,
She focused intently, while Yann played with the ease of someone gently indulging a child.
Halfway through his glass of wine, only the lone wolf piece remained.
“You lost,” he said simply.
“That round doesn’t count!” Audrey pushed her cocktail aside and reset the board. “It was just a warm–up. I wasn’t sure you’d get the rules.”
Yann looked at her with a gaze thick and warm, like honey slowly pulling into strands.
The flight attendant standing nearby couldn’t help but envy a love so tender.
They started a second round. Within ten minutes, the wolf stood alone on the board again.
“This time, you lost,” Yann said gently.
Audrey scowled. “Best of three.”
“Alright.”
They played again.
“You lost.”
“And again,” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’ve lost.”
Audrey was on the verge of snapping.
“It’s just a game, Yann. Do you really have to take it so seriously? It’s supposed to be fun! You’re always thinking hard. Aren’t you worried about losing your hair? You’re older than me already. What if you end up bald?”
Yann gave her a look filled with quiet affection, his voice calm and low. “It’s not about the game. It’s about the prize.”
Audrey puffed out her cheeks, fists clenched in mock frustration.
She shot a glance at the flight attendant, who promptly pretended to be busy and turned to reorganize the liquor cabinet.
Leaning quickly toward Yann, Audrey whispered in his ear, “Fine, we’ll call it even. I’ll wear it for you. And we stick to my rules this month.”
For a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in Yann’s deep–set eyes.
Before she could make sense of it, he nodded. “Alright.”
They played another round of Wolf Eats Sheep. Audrey managed to win once, but then Yann claimed the next, with such obvious leniency it was almost
insulting.
With no real challenge left, Audrey’s competitive spark dulled. Sleepiness crept in. She set her tablet aside and closed her eyes.
Yann, meanwhile, began scrolling through his private photo album.
By the time the plane began its descent, Audrey had drifted off. She stirred awake as Yann gently unfastened her seatbelt, and instinctively, she reached for his hand, fingers curling around his.
After disembarking, Calvin and Ryder went ahead to collect their luggage.
Seizing a quiet moment while Yann answered a phone call, Emilia stepped closer to Audrey. “Clayton’s on this flight too.”
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Audrey’s voice was cool, detached. “Must be here to donate the bone marrow.”
Emilia nodded. Seeing Yann hang up, she stepped back without saying more.
Ryder returned, pushing a luggage cart. The group began walking toward the terminal exit.
As they neared the arrivals hall, Audrey noticed a crowd gathered at the barricades, many of them holding cameras, lingering with anticipation.
“Wonder which celebrity they’re waiting for,” she joked. “Can’t be anyone from our flight.”
Yann reached for her hand.
Audrey froze mid–step, a sudden realization hitting her.
He turned slightly and looked at her. “Scared?”
“Not even a little,” she replied after a steadying breath. Then, locking fingers with him, she walked forward, straight toward the waiting crowd.
She kept her head high, trying to appear composed. But as she gripped Yann’s hand tighter, she noticed a faint sheen of sweat on his palm. For someone so used to the spotlight, he seemed more nervous than she was.
“Mr. Winifred!” A woman stepped out from the crowd, holding an enormous bouquet of fresh flowers. It was Freya Hartley, Yann’s chief secretary.
The moment she addressed him by name, every camera clicked to life, shutters firing as lenses turned toward the couple.
Yann shifted instinctively, angling his body to shield Audrey as he gently drew her closer. “This is my secretary, Freya Hartley,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Hartley,” Audrey said with a polite nod.
Freya hadn’t expected Yann’s wife to be so young.
She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d lured some wide–eyed university girl into his life; and if that was why he’d kept her hidden until now.
“Please, just call me Freya,” she said with a friendly smile, handing the bouquet toward Audrey.
Audrey instinctively reached out with both hands, but Yann didn’t let go of hers. Awkwardly, she accepted the flowers with one hand and offered a polite, “Thank you.”
“So this is Mrs. Winifred?” one of the reporters called out, and in an instant, the crowd surged forward. Cameras clicked, questions flew, and flashes strobed around them like fireworks.
Audrey understood all too well. Without Yann’s explicit permission, no journalist would’ve dared ambush them here.
From the moment she stepped onto the flight home with him, she had prepared herself for what it meant.
What she hadn’t anticipated was how openly Yann would reveal their marriage to the world.
Freya stepped forward once the press had captured enough. With practiced efficiency, she informed them that a formal press conference would follow shortly, where all questions would be addressed. For now, Yann and Audrey would be returning to rest.
At a distance, nearly lost in the crowd, Clayton stood motionless, stunned into silence. His jaw hung slightly open, as if he couldn’t quite trust what he was seeing.
His ex–wife was now the wife of Yann Winifred, CEO of Darkshell International.
That man wasn’t just powerful. He belonged to a world Clayton had never touched, and never would.
And Clayton was just a failed lawyer, struggling to stay afloat in the aftermath of a career gone stale.
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Chapter 233
He moved forward on autopilot, slipping through the crowd of journalists, half–hearing fragments of their chatter as they reviewed the scene they’d just witnessed.
“Did you see how young she is? I thought she’d be older.”
“Anyone recognize her? Doesn’t look like someone from the social scene. Definitely not an
actress either.”
“She’s not from any of the old–money families,” someone chimed in. “She’s got that innocent look. Kind of unpolished, but very pretty. And did you see how protective he was of her? Says everything.”
“Mr. Winifred never brings a date. It’s always just him and his chief of staff. But today? He held her hand the entire time. Never once let go.”
Clayton kept walking, their voices blurring into background noise. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though something had collapsed inside him, leaving a quiet, aching void where ambition and pride used to be.
AD
