Crossroads

Stephanie felt like a puppet being manipulated by unseen hands behind the scenes, and she hated that feeling.

Whatever Lucy had brought her there for, all Stephanie wanted now was to leave.

Walking briskly towards the main entrance of the Golden Angel Club, Stephanie kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, yet she sensed an abrupt increase in the number of staff members around her. Their peculiar glances only intensified her dislike for the place.

As she passed through the lobby, Stephanie noticed Dylan behind the counter, about to say something to her. However, when their eyes met, Dylan hesitated and immediately lowered his head.

Stephanie furrowed her brows slightly, feeling a surge of nervousness. What was going on with these people?

She recalled how, earlier, a staff member had reported to Dylan about the surveillance cameras malfunctioning and the sudden loss of signal in this area, prompting Mason and his men to hurry away.

Golden Angel Club belonged to the Wellington family, and Stephanie hoped Lucy hadn't come here to cause trouble. After scanning the area once more and not seeing Dylan, she decided to ask someone at the counter herself.

"Where is your club manager?" Stephanie walked up to the counter and inquired.

The supervisor, Brian Dyson, dressed in a deep blue uniform, seemed to flicker with a hint of fear upon seeing her approach. He avoided direct eye contact, lowering his gaze and quickly pointing towards the exit. "He's...outside.

Stephanie scrutinized him suspiciously for a moment but decided not to press further. The service staff on either side of the glass doors immediately bent respectfully and pulled them open for her. With determined steps, she strode out. Yer, as soon as Stephanie stepped through the club's main entrance, she froze in disbelief. A tall and striking figure suddenly occupied her line of sight.

Parked on the street was a dark grey Ferrari; its headlights were glaring brightly. Dominick appeared in front of her out of the blue, and this presence was impossible to ignore.

"How did you end up here?" His voice, deep and tinged with clear displeasure, broke the silence.

Stephanie snapped out of her momentary daze upon hearing his voice; her emotions tangled, and she shifted her gaze away from his.

His eyes, deep and sharp, locked onto hers. Taking a decisive step forward, he grasped her wrist firmly and demanded coldly, "Stephanie, is this a place where a woman should be?"

"What do you want to say? Stephanie was so angry that she wanted to push him away, but his fingers were held tight, and she refused to let go.

"What I want to say," he started, his face darkening to an ugly expression as he noticed her off-shoulder aqua silk gown, exposing her skin. Coldly. he continued, "Mrs. Wellington, who exactly are you dressing like this for! Who are you entertaining in the hotel room tonight?"

"What are you talking about, Dominick? Don't disgust me!"

Stephanie knew it wasn't quite appropriate to come to the club in a ball gown, but hearing his words made her feel deeply embarrassed.

"Who are you to point fingers at me like this? As your husband, have you fulfilled your responsibilities?"

Frustrated, she lunged forward and bit his right arm hard. Dominick didn't expect her to bite him, and in pain, he loosened his grip on her.

"I have no interest in your private life." he withdrew his hand impassively and warned her, "Stephanie, you were the one who refused to sign the divorce papers!"

His words instantly extinguished Stephanie's anger, leaving her stiff and numb without a retort, On one side of the club's entrance, Dylan hesitated to approach them, while many others had already gathered and watched Dominick humiliate Stephanie.

From the start, she was the one holding onto him relentlessly.

Stephanie forced herself to lift her chin so that even there were tears, they wouldn't easily fall.

PM Chapter 279

Outside the quiet clubhouse gates, the night air was frigid, draped in a solemn darkness.

"Mr. Wellington, the security cameras have been malfunctioning, We've traced it to... Dylan approached him and reported in a low voice.

Finally, someone dared to speak up. Those behind him quickly followed suit, pretending as though the previous scene had never occurred, their faces stoic as they resumed their duties

"We found eight jammers around the club's perimeter. This model isn't available on the market..."

They busied themselves with their tasks. Stephanie kept her head down, slipping away from their attention. She moved silently, trying to vanish from their view.

She found a secluded corner under the faint glow of a distant lamp post and rummaged through her purse in a flurry - lipstick, tissues, foundation, her phone- all scattered in disarray. In fact, she was not searching for anything in particular; she was just overwhelmed, trying to mask her inner turmoil

"Damn it, bastard, she murmured.

Earlier, she had gathered the courage to confront Dominick at the Gordon Hotel. But now, having seen him in person, she decided there was nothing much left for her to say. This version of him didn't warrant any more waiting from her end.

"What am I even holding on to?" Her eyes brimmed with tears.

The early winter breeze cut through her gown. She was standing on the quiet outskirts in the dead of night, feeling messy and awkward.

"Mr. Wellington, it's rather difficult to hail a cab around here," Dylan noted with a meaningful glance towards the shadows on the right side of the club's imposing entrance.

"And the nighttime temperatures in the outskirts drop lower than in the city. Standing out here could easily lead to catching a cold."

Noticing Dominick's gaze following his own towards the shadows, Dylan cautiously suggested, "Shall I arrange for a car to take her home

Dominick strode purposefully towards the shaded area, and waiting ek white nearby was a sleek white Bentley. His deep, commanding gaze remained fixed on the scene where a man gallantly opened the car door for Stephanie, who slipped into the passenger seat with effortless grace.

Behind him, Dylan's expression shifted with surprise as the white Bentley smoothly pulled away, carrying Stephanie off into the night..

"Mr. Wellington, should I dispatch someone to follow them?" Dylan's voice trembled slightly with apprehension.

Ignoring the question, Dominick exuded an air of cold determination as he turned sharply and disappeared into the clubhouse.

"Little Pillar, what brings you here?"

Meanwhile, the white Bentley glided effortlessly along the streets. Inside, Stephanie's gaze occasionally m flickered uneasily towards the man driving. Having overheard Mason's conversation earlier, her eyes now held a hint of suspicion.

Oscar met her gaze calmly. He focused steadfastly on the road ahead as he calmly disclosed, "Molly called me. She mentioned you had gone missing."

Stephanie flinched, suddenly reminded of the poor Molly.

The Golden Angel Club has no reception. I completely forgot about her Consumed with guilt, she dialed Molly's number again, but perhaps Molly was still inside. Hence, amidst the clamor of the Gordon Hotel venue.

her call went unanswered.

Line Pillar, I'm heading to the Gordon Hotel," she interjected, seeing him steering towards her apartment.

However, Oscar continued on the original route. It is said that a person's driving reflects their character, and Oscar's driving was symbolic of his demeanor- steady, composed, and devoid of tumult