The Cold Surgeon's Contract Bride novel Chapter 62

I sighed silently, praying that the rest of the dinner would go off without any more drama.

Ferris drinking tea instead of alcohol was brushed past, but within moments, the exact same scenario played out again.

As the waiter leaned in to pour champagne for Zoey, Ferris blatantly reached out in front of everyone and covered her glass with his hand, pressing it firmly to the table.

The waiter looked totally bewildered and cast a helpless glance at Lucille. Lucille was equally baffled, shooting desperate, wide-eyed looks in my direction.

Because Silas's face had already darkened into a furious, thunderous scowl.

In that tense, suffocating moment, Ferris's low, raspy voice broke the silence. "Dr. Zeller is allergic to alcohol. She'll stick to tea, just like me."

He spoke with a slow, deliberate arrogance. After delivering the line, he shot a look at the waiter and ordered a glass of fresh orange juice for Zoey.

His movements were seamless and fluid, acting as though no one else in the room mattered.

He was completely oblivious to the fact that the man sitting next to him had eyes practically shooting fire, pushed to the absolute edge of his temper.

Before I even had the chance to open my mouth, a loud crash echoed through the room. Silas shot up from his chair, shoving it back as he snapped, "I've lost my appetite. Whoever wants to eat can stay..."

Silas loved a good drink, but he cared even more about respect at the dinner table. Even though Ferris held a prestigious position, he was still the younger generation. In Silas's eyes, Ferris was repeatedly putting on airs and disrespecting him. My uncle's stubborn pride simply couldn't take it anymore.

Thank goodness Leon was there with his easygoing nature.

Leon had already stood up, trying to defuse the situation.

By the time my brain caught up to what was happening, I realized I was pressed tightly against a black knit sweater. When I looked up, I saw Leon gritting his teeth, fighting through the pain.

The person who had forcefully yanked me to safety was Leon.

My instincts screamed that something was terribly wrong.

"Leon, what happened?"

As the words left my mouth, I felt the rigid tension in his arm. I turned my head and gasped. Leon's right arm was drenched in the boiling, golden broth of the spilled soup.

He had taken the brunt of the scalding liquid just to protect me.