Facade of Love

Chapter 269 A Hair–Trigger Moment

Why were reporters here?

Charlie handed me a bouquet, and the scent of flowers I had not smelled in ages lifted spirits. I had always loved flowers. Teir fragrance always made me happy.

my

The fact that I could not remember ever sharing my love for flowers with anyone puzzled me. Without overthinking it, I faced Charlie and asked, “Mr. Yates, what are you doing here?” Charlie, oblivious to anyone else, gave me a grin that could light up the room, “I’m here to pick you up and take you out for a treat.”

I could not help but sneak a peek at Idris, who was standing off to the side, his expression stormy with obvious annoyance.

A headache was starting to brew. Had these two planned this?

With reporters snapping photos outside, and my ex–husband and….

Charlie’s actions were bound to stir up rumors, especially among the wildly imaginative netizens.

a strained smile, “Thanks

been in there so long, you must be dying for something sweet,” Charlie cut me off before I

was not until he took my hand and began to lead me away that I realized what was happening. As we walked

my ground, and Charlie glanced back at me. His eyes soon shifted to Idris, narrowing slightly. “Something else, Mr. Young?” he asked with a

until now, was the epitome of calm indifference. His good looks were marred only by the faintest trace

You’re kidding, right, Mr. Young? The whole world knows about your divorce from Ms. Scott. It

kept his cool. “That’s none

the type to push his luck. He stared down Idris, unafraid. “What’s the matter? Did Ms. Scott leave you on her own? Or…” He paused dramatically before delivering his punchline. ‘Or did the Youngs throw her to the wolves when trouble came knocking, afraid she would Irag you down? But now that the coast is clear, you suddenly remember she is your wife?” He let out

not loud but in the quiet expanse of the police station ntrance, they might as well have been shouted. The reporters, hungry for a

with unspoken

learned the hard truth: Idris was not exactly Mr. Nice Guy. Sure, he could play the part of the refined

was perfect,

he owned the place. If these two went

but Idris’s voice cut through the tension, “Officer Jackson!” It was deep, controlled, and impossible to read. I stopped mid–sentence, puzzled, turning to