Chapter 273

Everyone turned to look at the entrance, where a tall figure appeared. His presence was cold and commanding; his eyes were sharp. It was Jonathan. Although a famous celebrity in Betrico, he had lived in Roncrity for three years. His recent appearance on a reality show had made him a household name. He had been a national heartthrob, the dream guy of countless young girls. His handsome face had captivated many women.

Now, he stood before them, exuding an unmatched air of nobility. The crowd reacted diversely. Some were completely captivated by Jonathan's appearance, unable to look away. Others worried for Cynthia, while most simply enjoyed the spectacle. The Xenos family's dinner for the Jones family that night was proving full of twists and turns—a truly gripping event.

Cynthia and Shirley looked toward the door simultaneously. Seeing Jonathan, Shirley felt as if she had seen her savior. Her arms trembled. She stumbled toward him, exclaiming, "Jonathan, help! Cynthia has gone mad again!" Her tearful plea, delivered in close proximity, implied intimacy and suggested that he would surely protect her.

Shirley rushed toward Jonathan, intending to dramatically collapse into his arms before the watching crowd. She was genuinely weak from Cynthia's torment, her body aching. Sweat covered her forehead; she was near her limit. Luckily, Jonathan arrived just in time. She was certain he would abandon Cynthia.

Just as Shirley was about to reach him, Jonathan stepped aside, evading her. Naomi, standing nearby, tripped Shirley with her foot. Shirley fell flat on her face. No one offered assistance; they scattered as if avoiding a contagious disease. Shirley's hands, injured and uncontrolled, offered no support. Her chin struck the ground hard, followed by a sharp cry. Everyone winced; it looked painful.

Shirley lay on the ground, mortified. The onlookers pointed and whispered. Finally, Selena, unable to stand by, helped her up.

Shirley, furious, looked at Jonathan. "Jonathan, will it kill you to be touched?" she seethed, her anger blinding her. She thought, It's always like this. Every time I get near him, he acts like I'm trash, afraid of the slightest contact.

Jonathan's voice was cold, laced with disdain. "Ms. Shirley Jones, please show some self-respect."

"Self-respect?" Shirley retorted. "Jonathan, I know you look down on me, but do you really think the one you love is any cleaner?" She was determined to discredit Cynthia. "You haven't seen those photos and videos yet, have you?" she shouted at Cynthia. "Cynthia, do you dare show Jonathan those photos and videos?"

Cynthia, having regained her composure, was determined to get to the bottom of this. If Shirley had drugged her, she wouldn't be let off easily. Cynthia walked over, expressionless, holding Shirley's phone. Despite her injured hands, Shirley remained arrogant and smug.

"Cynthia," she said, "do you dare show him the phone? Do you dare reveal your dirty past in front of Jonathan?"

Cynthia sneered, replying coldly, "There's nothing I don't dare to do."

She handed the phone to Jonathan. He reviewed the photos and then watched the video. The audio was clear. Cynthia, clearly intoxicated, was being carried by a man. Her cheeks were flushed; she appeared drunk and even flirted with her carrier, saying, "What's your name? You're really good-looking."

Jonathan instantly recognized the scene. He remembered going to the Dark Horse Club and meeting an attractive woman in the elevator fifteen years prior. He recognized her face immediately—Cynthia looked like a grown-up version of her childhood self. The most noticeable difference was that her face was no longer chubby. He had a picture of her from their childhood, taken on a hospital lawn, that he'd kept in a prominent place all these years. He often looked at it, as if the child had never left his life, wondering what she would look like as an adult. He never expected to recognize her instantly and with absolute certainty.

When the elevator doors closed, Jonathan's heart pounded violently for the first time. He stood motionless, fearing it was a dream that might shatter. Nervous and excited, he held his breath until the elevator reached their floor. Only when Cynthia stepped out did he finally exhale and calm down.

He quickly followed her. He investigated and located the private room she was in. She was there to drown her sorrows. Her friend, Naomi, had ordered a room full of male models to keep her company. To get closer to Cynthia, Jonathan had changed into a male model's outfit and slipped in. He observed her quietly. From her conversation with Naomi, he learned that she was married and her husband had eloped with his mistress.

For a moment, he felt a mix of happiness and sadness, like he was a step too late. But then he realized they hadn't registered their marriage; they weren't legally married. Jonathan was thrilled, feeling it was fate's best arrangement. Naomi eventually fell asleep on the sofa. Cynthia, though a strong drinker, seemed to be affected. Her eyes became unfocused, her cheeks flushed, and she appeared uncomfortable. Jonathan, being closest, became her support. She leaned against him, her hands caressing his body. Seeing this, Jonathan's eyes turned cold; he knew someone had drugged her.

Jonathan later investigated. The drinks at the Dark Horse Club were fine, and the male models were innocent. He was certain someone had drugged Cynthia before she entered the club; the effects were delayed.