Chapter 20
“What’s wrong, Caleb? Are you trying to make things difficult for Adrian?” Yasmin asked, worry evident in her voice. She suspected Caleb was using his position for personal revenge. A disdainful snort was his only reply. “He’s not even worthy,” he sneered.
Adrian, having just splashed cold water on his face to compose himself, heard approaching footsteps. Opening his eyes, he saw a tall, distinguished man—Caleb—standing nearby, regarding him with cold indifference, as if he were a bothersome insect. “M-Mr. Grant…” Adrian instinctively straightened.
Caleb glanced at him before washing his hands, meticulously lathering and rinsing. The silence was heavy with unspoken tension. “Mr. Grant,” Adrian began, “Yasmin and you…”
Caleb met Adrian’s gaze through the mirror. “Just now, you confessed your feelings to my wife, right in front of me. You even said you would pursue her.”
Adrian’s face paled. He’d thought Yasmin and Caleb were merely dating; he hadn’t realized they were married. “You… you…”
“You don’t believe it? Do you need to see our marriage certificate?” Caleb dried his hands slowly.
“N-No need!” Adrian felt suffocated in the small restroom.
Caleb abruptly shifted the conversation. “So, how was the meal?”
Confused, Adrian replied honestly, “This private restaurant is one of the best I’ve ever been to.”
Caleb nodded, satisfied. “I invested in this place so Yasmin would have somewhere nice to eat when she visits my office.” He straightened, his imposing presence even more pronounced. “Adrian, you could never care for a rose like Yasmin. The restaurant you consider top-tier is merely a convenience I provided for my wife. You shouldn’t even dream of having her.”
The chasm between them—career, status, confidence, dominance—was starkly apparent. Most importantly, Caleb possessed absolute ownership of Yasmin.
At the dining table, Yasmin and Veronica locked eyes. The elegant restaurant, complete with a live violinist, held no appeal for Yasmin.
“You’re as charming as ever. It seems you’ve found someone new, even though you haven’t divorced yet,” Veronica said leisurely, arms crossed.
Yasmin sipped water. “I’m not as impressive as you. You’ve been eyeing someone else’s husband for years.”
“Yasmin, the unloved one is the true mistress.”
Yasmin sneered. “You and your mother are exactly alike! Shamelessly coveting another’s husband!”
Veronica wasn’t angered. She smiled. “My father and mother were childhood sweethearts, forced apart. Your mother was the one who came between them.” She paused, smirking. “And you… everyone knows you climbed into Caleb’s bed to get ahead. You stole my man!”
The term “bitch” didn’t faze Yasmin, but “climbed into Caleb’s bed” made her grip her cutlery so tightly her knuckles whitened. She couldn’t refute it. Years ago, drunk, she’d encountered Caleb, a man she’d secretly loved. He hadn’t resisted. She’d never demanded responsibility, but the Grant family had found out.
Yasmin laughed, her eyes crinkling. “Yours? Veronica, if he’s yours, then have him divorce me now! Caleb hasn’t signed the papers yet. Why don’t you guess what’s really on his mind?”
Veronica’s expression darkened. Her fork clattered against her plate. “Yasmin, don’t tell me you think Caleb has feelings for you?”
Yasmin shrugged, teasing. “Who knows? Ever heard of love growing over time?” She had no idea what Caleb felt, she just wanted to provoke Veronica. It worked. Veronica despised Yasmin's seemingly innocent yet manipulative nature.
Spotting Caleb approach, and a waiter carrying chowder, an idea struck Veronica. “Your dear Adrian has already left,” she said, gesturing towards the exit.
Yasmin, sensing Adrian’s distress, instinctively stood to follow him. Veronica stood as well. They collided. Yasmin saw Veronica bump into someone. “Watch out!” the waiter yelled. Veronica was pulled aside; Yasmin was knocked forward. The chowder, narrowly avoided moments before, spilled onto her arm. The scalding liquid seared her skin. Initially, she felt nothing; then, searing pain erupted.
Yet, she calmly looked at the man standing a yard away: Caleb, arriving just in time. He rushed to Veronica, protectively holding her. Yasmin felt a dull ache in her chest, a suffocating pain.
“What are you all standing around for? Get some ice!” Caleb barked at the waiter, his eyes blazing as he glared at Yasmin’s arm. His tension was palpable. Cooling a burn with ice—wasn't that common sense?
He abruptly released Veronica and reached for Yasmin. “Come with me. We need to rinse it with cold water—”
“Get lost! Don’t touch me!” Yasmin shouted, stepping back as if he were contagious. Her icy gaze held undisguised rejection.
Caleb’s hand froze. He softened his tone. “Yasmin, stop being stubborn. Your burn needs immediate treatment.”
“What?” Yasmin scoffed. “Am I being stubborn? Caleb, don’t pretend to care. If you hadn’t shown up, I’d be fine!”
“Yasmin!”
“Don’t call my name!”
“Yasmin, are you saying I should have been burned instead?”
Veronica, devastated and tearful, twisted the truth. “Even if you’re mad, you can’t shove the waiter and try to spill hot chowder on me! You know how fragile my hand is!”
“Yasmin!” Adrian’s voice cut through the chaos. He’d returned to find this scene. He rushed to Yasmin. “What happened? How did you get burned?”
A waiter arrived with ice. Adrian gently pressed it to Yasmin’s hand. “I’ll take her to the hospital!”
He hesitated, remembering Caleb’s presence. It felt inappropriate to be so solicitous.
“Alright. I’ll leave it to you then, Adrian.”
To his surprise, Yasmin agreed.
“Yasmin!” Caleb’s voice was ice-cold.