My Husband Wiped The Handle My Brother Touched And Called It Clean Chapter 10

My Husband Wiped The Handle My Brother Touched And Called It Clean Chapter 10

“Ms. Clark, your keynote presentation was absolutely magnificent!
This medical platform is bound to completely revolutionize the current healthcare landscape!”

The moment the summit concluded, several major tech moguls from the hosting committee swarmed around me, showering me with praise.

Dressed in a sharp white blazer, I maintained a perfectly poised, professional smile as I conversed with them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a familiar yet distant figure standing near the far corner of the convention hall.

It was Ethan.

He was wearing a battered, pilling black jacket, the collar stained dark with grease.

His once-upright spine had curved into the stoop of an old man, and his hair had turned mostly silver.

The once-dashing Mr. Miller now looked as though he had aged twenty years in a flash.

He was clutching a crumpled, temporary visitor pass in his hand.

God only knows what kind of shady backchannel he had to exploit just to sneak into a high-caliber summit like this.

His gaze was locked onto me with a terrifying intensity, his eyes

swirling with a chaotic mess of emotions—shock, deep regret, and a faint, desperate shred of hope.

I pulled my gaze back smoothly, treating him like an absolute stranger I had never laid eyes on.

“Sis! Over here!”

Near the entrance of the hall, Logan was waving his arm enthusiastically.

A custom-tailored, light gray suit accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs.

His stride carried almost no trace of his past injury, radiating the vibrant energy of someone thoroughly baked in sunshine.

I smiled and walked over, looping my arm through his. “Tired of waiting? That’s fifty extra minutes on the gym equipment when we get back,” I teased.

Logan huffed playfully, his gaze drifting past my shoulder to lock onto the unwelcome visitor lurking behind us.

Just as we prepared to exit, Ethan finally gathered his courage, stumbling forward to block our path. “Chloe…”

His voice sounded incredibly dry, hollow, and coarse.

Logan instinctively stepped in front of me, shielding me as his brows knit together tightly. “Who are you? Get out of the way.”

Staring up at Logan, who now stood half a head taller than him,

Ethan’s eyes brimmed with instant tears. “Logan, how is your leg doing?”

Logan let out a cold laugh, his eyes dripping with pure disdain.
“Thanks to you, it didn’t snap completely.”

“But what does that have to do with you?” he added harshly. “Move aside, you’re blocking the fresh air.”

Ethan stumbled back a step, pierced through by Logan’s words. He turned his pleading eyes back toward me.

“Chloe, I’ve been working odd jobs in this city these past few years to pay off my debts. I watch your news every single day.”

“Seeing how incredibly successful you are now,” he whispered, “I am truly, truly happy for you.”

He rubbed his calloused hands together, attempting to force a pleading, submissive smile. “Could I buy you a coffee? Just to catch up as old friends.”

Looking at his completely subservient state, my heart didn’t register a single tremor.

No hatred, no resentment. Only absolute, pure indifference.

“No thank you.”

I adjusted my cuffs, my voice entirely flat, devoid of any emotional variance.

Right at that moment, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb

outside the convention hall.

A distinguished, elegant man stepped out holding an umbrella, walking briskly to my side and naturally taking the laptop bag from my hands.

“Chloe, is the conference wrapped up? I’ve already taken care of the restaurant reservations.”

I turned to him with a gentle smile. “Yes, it’s all finished.”

Then, I turned my head back, looking at the frozen, statue-like Ethan.

“Mr. Miller, my fiancé is waiting for me. Excuse us.”