Blimey, My Kid's the Heir to the Billionaire Boss! by Nora Hoover

Chapter 722 Several Mr. Clemens

Sadie cast a cold, sneering glance at the decadent spectacle before her. Jonny, catching the icy edge of her expression, quickly altered his approach. "I have a fine selection of wines in my collection," he offered hastily, "I'll bring some to you later." Nodding her assent, Sadie was on the verge of stepping into the private room when an all too familiar figure caught her eye. She froze, her heart pounding inexplicably as she stared in astonishment at the figure. It was as if the silhouette was deeply etched into her memory, a remnant from a past life...

Without a second thought, Sadie gave chase, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to call out to the figure. But he moved swiftly, disappearing into a narrow corridor with a fleeting glance thrown back at her. The side profile of his masked face was strikingly handsome, radiating an aura of mystery. His eyes, deep and meaningful, were akin to the dark sea, holding a myriad of secrets that beckoned her to uncover.

For a moment, Sadie was captivated, her pursuit momentarily forgotten. But by the time she regained her senses, the figure had vanished. She stood still, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

The image of the enigmatic figure lingered in her mind. She tried to dredge up any recollection of him, but her memory remained stubbornly locked, leaving her frustrated and confused.

"Miss James!" Annika, Arya, and the others hurried to catch up, their faces etched with concern. "Are you all right?"

for me," Sadie commanded, turning

taken aback. He had seen her chasing after someone, but he hadn't gotten a clear look at the

black half mask, with deep and spirited eyes..."

Mr. Clemens from our Night Club," Jonny deduced. "I'll find him

just dismissed the idea of finding Mr. Clemens, and

arranging a platter of fruits. She settled onto the sofa with an air of regality,

Jonny. Each encounter stirred a whirlpool of complex emotions within her - piercing heartache, corrosive hatred, or calm indifference. But the figure she had just seen evoked a sincere tenderness, a feeling that was soft and beautiful. She was

on the sofa, sipping her wine with a cold detachment. As

Annika offered, preparing

leather jackets, almost matching Sadie's description. Even the seasoned bodyguards present were taken aback by the spectacle. They