Chapter 113

Seeing Kieran and Eloise turn their backs and leave, the surrounding socialites burst into laughter.

“It’s funny,” one of them said, “Treyn danced her butt off out here and still couldn’t compete with just the vibe Ms. Harwood puts off. I’ve been saying it all along. In Mr. Sutton’s eyes, Ms. Harwood and Freya are worlds apart. Ms. Harwood’s like a cloud in the sky, and Freya is just mud on the ground. It’s only right Freya got treated this way!”

“Freya, pack up your little schemes and stop embarrassing yourself here!”

Their disdain and sarcasm towards Freya were unmistakable. But Freya couldn’t care less. Her dance wasn’t for Kieran anyway. What Kieran thought was none of her business. However, she felt her real target had taken the bait. She noticed a figure descending the stairs from the second floor.

Eya deliberately approached the mocking group, feigning innocence. “Were you talking about me just now?”

“Who else would we be talking about?” One of the socialites sneered. “Don’t think we don’t know. You only clung to Mr. Sutton by flaunting your assets! Men get bored, you see. Look at Mr. Sutton now. Does he even care about you?”

Hearing the diss, Freya’s eyes flicked over to Preston, who was nearby. She stepped closer to the mocking socialite, whispering so only they could hear, “Is that so? But I guess some people, even if they offered everything, still wouldn’t get a second glance. With your, let’s say, disproportionate figure… tsk. Even if you danced naked before Kieran, he wouldn’t bat an eye.”

“Your…” Perhaps it hit too close to home; the socialite widened her eyes in rage and swung her hand for a slap. As it was about to hit Freya, she staggered backward, intentionally falling.

Instead of hitting the ground, she landed in a warm, sturdy embrace. Freya looked up like a startled deer, only to meet Preston’s nearly perfect, emotionless face, exuding an innate chill that sent shivers down one’s spine.

“Mr. Tyler!” The socialite paled, stepping back in horror, realizing her slap had nearly hit Preston!

Preston’s voice was ice cold. “Hans.”

“Yes, Mr. Tyler.” Hans stepped forward, towering over the average man. He raised his hand and delivered a slap that landed squarely on the socialite’s face. Even say a word. A scream echoed throughout the venue. The socialite’s face blew up instantly, and she got knocked flat, too scared to even say a word. Everyone knew Preston’s reputation. He played by his rules, and even the shadiest of business people gave him a wide berth. Provoking Preston was a dangerous game. A beating was the least of one’s worries. It was frightening to get killed. Preston looked down at the socialite on the ground with cold disdain. “Clear them out.”

“Yes, Mr. Tyler.”