Chapter 6

Back in the stairwell, the two drunk men were still pestering Charlotte. As they staggered closer, she quickly stepped aside and made her way toward the door, intent on getting out of there. "Hey, gorgeous, don't leave yet!" one of them slurred, reaching out boldly to grab her shoulder. But before he could touch her, Charlotte's gaze turned cold. In one swift move, she lifted her leg and kicked him square in the groin. The man let out a blood-curdling scream. The other drunk snapped to his senses at the sound. "Daniel, are you okay?" Daniel's face had gone ghostly pale. He glared at Charlotte with murderous rage. "You bitch! How dare you kick me? Grab her! Tonight, I'm going to make her wish she was dead!" "Yeah!" The second man nodded frantically and lunged at Charlotte. Charlotte had been hoping to avoid causing a scene. But now, it was clear she had to do something. At this point, she began to sort through her options. She could throw him over her shoulder or maybe dust them with the knockout powder she carried for self-defense Just as the man's filthy hand was about to grab her, a strong hand shot through the gap in the door and clamped down on his wrist. The hand was striking with long, slender fingers and a small, dark mole near the base of the thumb. Charlotte blinked as she recognized the hand. Before she could even piece it together, the drunk man howled in pain. "Stop! It hurts!" A second later, the door was kicked open violently, and a man strode out. He wore tailored black slacks that framed his long legs and a simple black t-shirt. The outfit would have looked plain on anyone else, but it looked elegant and dignified on him. Charlotte's gaze was drawn upward, locking onto the man's face. He had sharp features, a straight nose, and dark eyes that gleamed with chilling intensity. He stared at her coldly. His glare was so chilling that it felt like it bore a hole through her. Charlotte felt her mind go blank. For a moment, she thought she must be drunk. It was no wonder that mole had looked familiar. Because the man standing in front of her was none other than her long-lost ex-husband, Brian. Charlotte felt a cold shiver race up her spine. Of all the people she could have encountered, it had to be the one man she had been desperately trying to avoid. Brian also had a clear look at Charlotte's face. After all these years, she had changed. There was a new maturity to her now—a kind of elegant allure that had not been there before. Gone was the gentle, obedient girl he once knew. She could attract anyone's attention without even trying. No wonder she had gotten herself into trouble. Brian's expression darkened as he yelled, "Charlotte!" His voice jolted her back to reality. For a moment, she completely forgot about the two drunk men and ran. However, Brian was faster. He shoved the drunk aside with a single motion, closed the distance between them in two long strides, and grabbed her wrist, yanking her back firmly. He asked, frustrated, "Charlotte, why are you running?" Charlotte didn't understand why either—her mind was a mess. She just knew she could not face him. She struggled hard, trying desperately to shake off his grip. Her delicate features were devoid of emotions—nothing like the gentle, soft woman she used to be. Brian didn't feel any better seeing her like this. He had finally caught her, so there was no way he was letting go now. In fact, he only tightened his hold. The two of them tussled at the stairs. One wrong move, and either of them could fall. After realizing she had no sense of the danger, Brian cursed under his breath and forced her back into a corner, blocking her completely. His voice was sharp and filled with irritation as he barked toward the door, "Henry, get rid of those two pieces of trash. Handle it." Henry did not hesitate. He rushed over with the bodyguards and dragged the two drunk men away. Before leaving, he sneaked a glance back, and his eyeballs nearly fell out of their sockets. That woman was Charlotte, Brian's ex-wife. She disappeared six years ago without a word, leaving only a divorce agreement behind. Henry quickly averted his gaze and hurried out, making sure to pull the door tightly shut behind him. Charlotte's heart clenched painfully, and her emotions were a mess—especially when she realized how close Brian was standing. His scent was overwhelming. It was the same scent she had once loved and been hopelessly addicted to. For six years, she thought she was over it. And yet now, just standing near him, she felt like she could not breathe. She couldn't believe she was so pathetic. They were divorced, and there was nothing for her to fear. After forcing herself to calm down, she slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. When she spoke, her voice was sharp and icy. "Do you need something, Mr. Norman?" The cold, unfamiliar way she addressed him hit Brian like a slap. "What do you think?" he growled. His eyes were dark with a dangerous glint in them. Charlotte's heart skipped a beat, but she remained calm. She slowly replied, "Mr. Norman, thank you for helping me out just now. Now, please move. My friends are waiting for me." Brian frowned when he heard her address him that way, as well as her cold, indifferent tone. He didn't seem to have the intention of letting her walk away. "Is that really all you have to say?" he asked pointedly.