While My Husband Cheated I Married His Powerful Brother novel Chapter 72

Chapter 72: Chapter 72 More Than a Housewife

The restaurant entrance fell silent.

Wesley Wen stood near the hostess podium, his hands in his pockets, his smile easy and relaxed. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit. No tie. His shirt was open at the collar. He looked like a man who owned the building. Which, it turned out, he did.

Clarisse turned.

Her face went white. Then red. Then white again.

"Mr. Wen," she stammered. "I didn’t see you there. I didn’t—”

Clarisse stood frozen behind her podium, her face pale, her hands trembling. The guests who had mocked Veyra moments ago were now staring at the floor, pretending they had not spoken.

Wesley Wen walked forward. His steps were slow and deliberate. His sharp eyes were fixed on Clarisse.

"Clarisse," he said. His voice was pleasant. But underneath it was steel. "You have been with us for how long?"

"Three years, Mr. Wen," she whispered.

"Three years. And in three years, you have forgotten how to treat guests?" He tilted his head. "Or do you only remember how to treat guests who look like they have money?"

Clarisse’s lip trembled. "Mr. Wen, I didn’t mean—"

"You judged a woman by her clothes. By her lack of jewelry. By the fact that she came alone and not with a party of four in designer suits." Wesley’s voice did not rise. It did not need to. "You decided she did not belong here."

Clarisse said nothing.

"You were wrong." Wesley turned to the other guests. The Whitmore party. The woman who had laughed. The man who had suggested the public observation deck. "All of you were wrong."

He looked back at Clarisse.

"You are dismissed. Effective immediately. Collect your things and leave."

Clarisse’s face crumpled. "Mr. Wen, please—"

"Before you go, you will apologize to Mrs. Thorne."

Clarisse turned to Veyra.

Her eyes were wet. Her mouth was twisted. She looked like she wanted to scream.

But she did not.

"I’m sorry, Mrs. Thorne," Clarisse said. The words came out stiff. Forced. "I should not have treated you that way."

Veyra looked at her. At the resentment behind her eyes. At the way her hands were still shaking.

She did not believe the apology. But she also did not care.

"Goodbye, Clarisse," Veyra said.

She turned away. She followed Dr. Harrison into the restaurant.

Clarisse stood alone behind the podium, her apology hanging in the air, unacknowledged.

The restaurant was even more beautiful inside.

Crystal chandeliers. Fresh flowers on every table. A wall of windows overlooking the city. The river glittered in the distance.

Veyra walked past tables filled with wealthy diners. She felt their eyes on her. Her clothes. Her bag. Her simple ponytail.

She did not care.

Dr. Harrison led her to a table by the window. The view was breathtaking. The city stretched to the horizon.

"Sit," Dr. Harrison said. "I’ll order for us. Do you have any dietary restrictions?"

"None."

He nodded and signaled to a waiter.

Veyra sat down. The chair was soft. The tablecloth was crisp. A small vase of roses sat in the center of the table.

She looked out the window. The city looked different from up here. Smaller. More manageable.

Dr. Harrison returned. He sat across from her.

"The waitress," he said. "The one who was rude to you. She’s been dealt with."

"I know. I was there."

"I mean Wesley Wen. He doesn’t tolerate that kind of behavior in his establishments."

Veyra nodded. "Mr. Wen. He’s the owner?"

"Of Bordeaux 101. And several other restaurants. And a hotel chain. And a media company." Dr. Harrison smiled. "He’s also a close friend of your husband’s."

Veyra’s eyebrows rose, was he the same person her husband had uttered last night. "Dorian’s friend?"

"They’ve known each other for years. Business partners. Occasional rivals. But always friends." Dr. Harrison paused. "He’s also the one who helped me get my start in cardiology. Years ago. He funded my research when no one else would."

Veyra looked across the restaurant. Wesley Wen was still standing by the hostess podium. He was watching her.

Their eyes met.

He smiled. He walked toward their table.

"Mrs. Thorne," Wesley said. He stopped beside their table. "I’m Wesley Wen. I’ve heard a great deal about you."

Veyra stood. She extended her hand. "It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Wen."

He took her hand. His grip was firm. His palm was warm.

"Please, call me Wesley." He held her hand a moment longer than necessary. "I watched the video from the pizza shop. The one where you subdued Xie Heng with an empty gun."

Veyra’s heart jumped. "You saw that?"

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