Next Man, Better Plan novel Chapter 177

The sight of Quennel stopped Vivian in her tracks. All the fight went out of her, like air from a balloon. Her raised arm hung limply at her side. Her eyes filled with red-rimmed hurt. They were broken up, so why was he still protecting her so fiercely?

“Insolence! Utter insolence! I was trying to handle this quietly!”

Seeing his beloved daughter struck, Arnold was beside himself with rage. He said grimly, “Fine, if that’s how you want it, we’ll call the police! Stephanie, you’d better not regret this!”

At the mention of the police, a flicker of delight crossed Victoria’s face.

Susan, however, looked deeply troubled.

Just as the chaos reached its peak, Benson stepped forward. “There’s no need to call the police. I saw Victoria jump on her own.”

Arnold frowned, staring at his son in disbelief. “Benson, are you sure you saw it?”

“Yes.” Benson had been delayed while confirming a few details.

“This woman is wearing a server’s uniform, but she’s not on the Yates family staff list. She snuck in here. Her motives were suspicious from the start.”

Whispers erupted through the crowd.

“How shameless! This was just a classic ploy by the other woman to frame her, wasn't it? And she tried to pin it all on Ms. Jackson.”

“You have to admit, she was willing to go all out. Risking her life just to take down the fiancée.”

“She wasn’t really risking her life, was she? She landed in a fountain, and it was a known camera blind spot. This was all carefully planned!”

“And Quennel, getting involved with someone like that? It's a good thing there was a witness, or Stephanie would have been completely railroaded!”

“And the Yates family… Arnold is her stepfather, isn’t he? Not only did he not protect her, he ordered her to kneel and apologize? Would he have said that if she were his own flesh and blood?”

“I heard they had a fight in the lounge earlier. Maybe there’s bad blood between them? I guess he’s not even pretending anymore.”

With the truth revealed, Victoria’s face went white.

She tried to argue, but security guards summoned by Benson were already escorting her away.

Quennel’s voice was strained. “Who did you marry? Stop talking nonsense!”

He grabbed her wrist, lowering his voice. “Everyone is watching, Stephanie. Are you just trying to humiliate me? You used to care about my feelings.”

“You said it yourself—used to,” Stephanie replied, tilting her head up to meet his gaze with a small smile. “Now, I only care about my husband’s feelings. I suppose this is what true love feels like.”

Quennel was dumbfounded.

True love? What true love? With some fictional husband she had conjured up just to make him angry? What a load of nonsense.

He held onto her wrist, refusing to let go.

At that moment, from the back of the crowd, a tall, imposing figure emerged.

Jonathan’s throat bobbed slightly. The man’s deep-set eyes were glacial, and his voice carried an unmistakable warning. “Quennel, if you don't want to lose that hand, I suggest you let go of my wife’s wrist.”