He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 19

He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 19

On the other side of the partition, Ethan clenched his fists so hard they trembled, his knuckles white.

An icy chill swept through him. His heart felt as if Sloane’s words had stabbed a bloody hole through it, every muscle crying out in pain.

He had never imagined that all of Sloane’s fragility and innocence were a carefully plotted disguise.

Even less had he imagined that Avery, whom he treasured like a jewel, had endured so many cruel schemes where he couldn’t see.

Just standing there, listening to Sloane show off her trophies, was almost unbearable. He could hardly imagine how broken Avery must have been to experience it all firsthand.

That day, when his people brought her out of the storage room, her face had been as pale as paper. She had been too weak to stand, as if her soul had been hollowed out.

And Sloane had only cried and told him that Avery had thrown a tantrum, smashing things and screaming, that she had done it to herself.

He had stupidly believed her.

The voices in the restaurant continued. Sloane’s friend was stunned, and Sloane only grew more pleased.

“That wasn’t even the most satisfying part,” Sloane said with a contemptuous laugh. “Later, at the charity gala, I wore that old veil her mother left her and deliberately ‘accidentally’ fell so she could watch it get destroyed. You should have seen the way she lost it. She looked like a mad dog backed into a corner.”

“Who did you call a mad dog?”

A bone-chilling question sounded from behind them. Ethan stepped out from the shadows, his face murderous. The violent chill surrounding him made the entire restaurant freeze.

Sloane trembled.

She didn’t know how much Ethan had heard. She forced a stiff smile, her voice faltering.

“Ethan… I… I was just joking…”

Her words were cut off by a hand of steel clamping around her throat.

Ethan’s hand tightened around her neck until the veins stood out. The face that had once been full of pity for her now held only a black, cold smile.

“Framing, acting, playing the victim. Sloane, you’re quite the strategist.”

Sloane instinctively tried to tear his hand away.

But she couldn’t shake it. She only provoked him into tightening his grip further.

Her breathing was cut off. Her brain roared from oxygen deprivation. Choking sounds came from her mouth, and a sense of suffocation unlike anything she had ever known swallowed her like a tide.