Chapter 12 Mr. Harrison's Love-Hate

Downstairs.

The man in the floral shirt, who had been so confident moments before, was now completely stunned.

He cupped his hands toward Emma in a respectful gesture, his smile tinged with resignation but genuinely gracious. "I lost! I'm completely outclassed!"

"Your skills are absolutely incredible! You've really opened my eyes today!"

He turned toward the crowd, throwing his arms wide with magnanimous flair. "A bet's a bet! Tonight I'll put on a show for everyone's entertainment! And the entire night's tab is on me! Drink up, everyone!"

"Yes!"

The crowd erupted again in whistles and cheers.

The man took the makeshift stage, performing an entertaining routine to the pulsing music that had everyone roaring with laughter, though his gaze kept drifting toward Emma.

The male admirers who'd been dazzled by Emma's pool skills immediately swarmed around her.

"Lady! Can you sign something for me?"

"Hey! Add me on Facebook!"

"Could you teach me to play pool?"

The crowd instantly surrounded Evelyn and Emma so tightly they could barely move.

While Evelyn could handle a few interactions, Emma found herself overwhelmed by the sudden attention, her brow furrowing as she instinctively tried to step back.

The scene grew chaotic as people raised their phones, wanting to capture Emma's image to upload to social media—it would definitely go viral.

Just then, a coat carrying a faint chill and the scent of tobacco suddenly descended from above, enveloping Emma completely.

Her vision was instantly obscured by dark fabric, triggering a flash of panic.

The next second, a well-defined hand that ran cold gripped her wrist while another arm wrapped around her shoulders with irresistible force, yanking her bodily from the crowded throng.

Emma stumbled, half-carried and half-protected as she was rushed toward the exit.

Almost simultaneously, another disruption was being forcibly ended inside the club.

"Everyone, back off!" A penetrating roar filled with obvious anger cut through the noise.

Henry pushed through the crowd, striding up to Evelyn and grabbing her arm with considerable force.

"You're coming with me!"

His voice was tight with suppressed fury. Without giving Evelyn any chance to react, he forcibly extracted her from the circle of admirers and headed in another direction.

The surrounding cacophony seemed to instantly fade away.

It wasn't until they were outside the club, breathing in the cool night air, that the coat was gently pulled away.

Emma looked up to meet a pair of eyes as deep and cold as a winter lake.

It was Nicholas.

He stood tall and imposing, his expression far from pleasant, his gaze carrying both scrutiny and a barely concealed irritation.

He released her wrist, his thin lips parting to speak in his habitually mocking tone.

"Well, well, Emma. I never imagined you'd be the type to frequent places like this."

His voice carried suppressed anger as his sharp gaze swept over her somewhat provocative dress. "Look at what you're wearing, where's the dignity of an elite family wife?"

He stepped closer, his presence intimidating as he continued, "If some damn reporter had photographed you just now, who do you think Grandfather would blame, you or me?"

Emma raised her eyes, her gaze cool and clear as water, showing not a trace of fear but rather a kind of exhaustion and resolve that saw through everything.

Her red lips parted to deliver words that struck like ice picks: "Nicholas, tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. I'll meet you at the courthouse."

The air instantly froze.

The anger in Nicholas's eyes finally exploded completely, like a powder keg igniting. "What did you just say? So now I can't even say two words to you?"

Emma's voice was bone-chilling. "If you're too busy, just have someone deliver the divorce papers to me tomorrow."

Nicholas laughed bitterly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Who was it that desperately pursued marriage into the Harrison family? Emma, wasn't all of this your own choice?"

He found her utterly unreasonable. Wasn't this just her making her own bed?

"Yes, you're absolutely right."

Emma admitted it frankly, though her expression remained unchanged.

"I was incredibly foolish back then, and I chose the wrong path. So now I'm working hard to correct that mistake."

Her voice was remarkably calm yet carried an unwavering determination.

With that, she stopped looking at him and turned to leave this suffocating place.

"Emma!"

Nicholas reacted lightning-fast, grabbing her wrist with such force that it hurt.

His eyes were menacing. "Leave me, and you'll have nothing. Have you thought this through?"

Emma looked as if she'd heard the joke of the century. She laughed softly, almost self-mockingly. "In three years of marriage, what have I ever had?"

A suffocating feeling overwhelmed her, making her eyes suddenly well up.

Nicholas fell silent. Because they had never actually lived together, he had indeed shown her far too little care.

A drunk suddenly stumbled toward them, humming incoherently, his steps unsteady as he was about to crash into Emma.

Nicholas reacted almost instinctively, yanking Emma hard into his arms!

His intense masculine scent immediately enveloped her, carrying his characteristic cold cologne.

Emma's body stiffened. Before she could struggle, she heard his voice from above: "I'll drive you home."

"That's not necessary."

Emma pushed away from him forcefully, her eyes cold and her tone distant.

Just then, piercing headlights cut through the night as a sleek, luxurious black Maybach silently pulled up to the curb.

The door opened, and a tall, imposing man stepped out.

The man wore a custom black suit, his features stern, radiating an aura that warned others to keep their distance.

He walked directly toward them.

When Nicholas saw who it was, his pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. The anger on his face instantly subsided somewhat, replaced by a polite but distant expression.

"Mr. Moore? What a coincidence."

Matthew merely glanced at him coolly before his gaze settled on Emma, his hard expression seeming to soften slightly.

He spoke to Emma, his voice deep and magnetic: "I'll take you home."

Emma barely hesitated before nodding gently.

Then, as if remembering something, she added, "Evelyn is still inside."

"Don't worry. I'll have someone find her."

Emma felt completely at ease. She nodded without sparing Nicholas another glance and walked directly toward the Maybach.

Nicholas stood frozen in place, his face ashen, his fists clenching unconsciously at his sides.

Watching Emma walk toward another man without a backward glance, an inexplicable rage burned wildly in his chest.

But reason told him this wasn't the time for a complete confrontation with Matthew.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the fury in his heart, forcing his face into a perfect but utterly cold smile.

"In that case, I'll have to trouble Mr. Moore to see my wife home safely."

He deliberately emphasized "my wife," as if asserting his claim.

Matthew's entire being radiated coldness as he turned to instruct his bodyguard to go inside and find Evelyn.

Shortly after, the bodyguard emerged from the club with Evelyn, and they all got into the Maybach before driving away.

Nicholas coldly made a phone call. "Get to Emma's apartment building immediately and watch her go inside. If that Matthew stays the night, report back immediately."

"Yes, sir!" Charlie, who had been half-naked in just white boxers, preparing for bed, responded seriously before rushing to get dressed.