The One He Dismissed Became The One He Died For novel Chapter 61

The raucous noise inside the club abruptly died down.

Jefferson Sterling's face turned livid, a terrifying rage churning in his eyes.

"Are you all out of your minds? Is your brain just filled with this filth?"

The playboys holding their phones went pale. "Mr. Sterling, we were just joking..."

"Joking?" Jefferson stepped forward, grabbing the man's collar with one hand while grabbing a liquor bottle with the other and smashing it against the wall.

Blood ran down the man's forehead as his phone clattered to the floor. The video was still playing, showing a woman with a radiant smile, so stunningly beautiful it was impossible to look away.

He stomped on the phone. "She belongs to me. Do you think she's someone you can joke about?"

Jefferson slammed the door and left.

In the back of the limited-edition Maybach, Jefferson leaned back, tearing at his tie in frustration. The suffocating knot in his chest refused to dissipate.

In the video, every glance and every movement Claire Jenner made replayed in his mind.

She looked so vibrant and intensely alive, yet it wasn't for him.

How could she smile so happily after leaving him?

Jefferson pulled out his phone and dialed Claire's number.

A cold, automated voice answered from the other end.

"The number you have dialed is powered off."

Refusing to give up, Jefferson sent a message, only to be met with a red exclamation mark.

Claire had blocked him? How dare she!

He gripped the phone, an unprecedented sense of losing control spreading through him.

With a predatory gaze, he dialed his assistant's number.

Grandview Heights.

Returning from Westhaven Village, Claire slipped off her clothes, stepped barefoot into the bathroom, and took a quick shower.

The bandage on her arm had gotten wet and needed to be replaced.

She hadn't come just for a bandage change.

She was here to seduce him.

Claire wore a silk camisole slip dress with a cardigan draped loosely over her shoulders. Right on cue, the cardigan slipped down, revealing a stretch of luminous skin and delicate collarbones.

Miles's gaze lingered on her shoulder for a fraction of a second, but he didn't call her out.

"The wound is almost fully healed, but you still need to be careful for a while."

But Claire refused to behave.

Her fingertips casually brushed against his arm. Even through the thin fabric of his loungewear, she could feel the tension of his defined muscles.

One stroke, then two...

Miles paused his movements, gently catching her wrist. His voice was low and slightly hoarse.

"Stop messing around."

A triumphant smile curled on Claire's lips. Just as she was about to push further, the sound of a passcode being entered echoed from the front door.