He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 29

He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 29

Bang!

Avery slammed the door, cutting off Ethan’s twisted, anguished face. Without hesitation, she changed the entry code. That code had been set on her first day in Santa Fe. It represented rebirth. She would never allow Ethan’s feet, which had walked through the mire, another chance to defile this safe house.

Emotionally exhausted, Avery set down her handbag. Only then did she notice the nearly untouched iced Americano on the table. Julian had brought it by earlier, saying she had seemed overwhelmed by her speech and needed “a dose of clarity.”

She did need it now.

Avery picked up the cup. The cold liquid slid down her throat, the bitter caffeine a precise scalpel, peeling away the sticky nausea of Ethan still clinging to her nerves.

So caffeine was more useful than any false promise.

She took out her phone, snapped a photo of the coffee, and sent it to Julian.

*It successfully kept me clearheaded.*

Her phone lit up almost immediately. Julian replied within seconds.

*Then that is its honor. Want another tomorrow? I’ll bring one.*

Julian’s thoughtfulness was a warm current, easily melting the thin layer of ice that had just formed over her heart. She almost blurted out that she actually missed the pour-over from a small bakery on the west side, with its unique nutty aroma. But that shop didn’t deliver, and the round trip by car would take more than an hour. Too much trouble.

She didn’t want to trouble anyone anymore, nor did she want to develop a dependence on anyone too easily.

So Avery only replied with a playful salute sticker and turned off the screen.

…

The art exhibition opening was the next day.

This was the Caldwell Family Foundation’s first major sponsored project in the Southwest. As its representative, Avery delivered a speech that was calm, elegant, and filled with profound insight into the connection between art and community. Her performance won the foundation thunderous applause and allowed every guest to see an Avery Caldwell entirely different from the one in East Coast gossip columns—radiant and brilliant.

As the event ended, rain fell without warning, trapping unprepared guests at the gallery entrance. Avery was about to call a car when a black umbrella opened over her head.

She turned back in surprise and met Julian’s deep, smiling eyes.

“Congratulations, Avery,” he said gently, holding a paper bag with a familiar logo in his other hand. “Your speech was very successful.”

Avery’s gaze was immediately captured by the bag. Her heart skipped a beat.

As if reading her thoughts, Julian offered it to her.

“To celebrate your victory. And to make up for the possibility that yesterday’s iced Americano wasn’t perfect.”

Avery accepted it in a daze and opened the bag. A rich, familiar aroma of roasted nuts rushed out. It was the pour-over coffee from the shop she had been thinking about the night before.

She looked up in surprise, her eyes unable to hide her smile.

“How did you know…?”

“Your assistant told me,” Julian answered frankly. “She said you’ve been surviving on their coffee while preparing your speech.”

So it was her assistant. Avery remembered complaining a few days earlier that the only thing she missed since moving was that shop’s coffee. She hadn’t expected that casual comment to be remembered.

Holding the warm cup, she was about to thank him.

A dark figure suddenly rushed out of the rain like an enraged beast, straight toward Julian.

Bang!

A dull impact sounded. Julian’s face jerked to the side as he took a solid punch. The umbrella flew from his hand, and cold rain instantly soaked both of them.

Half of Avery’s coffee spilled, scalding liquid splashing onto the back of her hand, but she felt no pain. Every sense was frozen by the scene before her.

Ethan’s eyes were scarlet. He shoved Julian away, then seized Avery’s arm and dragged her behind him, shielding her tightly.

Like a lion defending its territory, he roared at Julian, who had just regained his balance, “You bastard! Who gave you the right to touch my fiancée?”