CHAPTER 3: CHAPTER 3: SHE SHOULDN’T WEAR A WHITE DRESS

Natalie Vaughn’s slender and delicate fingers tapped on the stair rail, one after another. She did all that just to let Zane Thorne know she was here to find him. But even though he was clearly inside the bar, he still hadn’t shown up.

Is he just unwilling to see her?

In her mind, she recalled those hands and the cigarette between the fingers, hoping that cigarette would burn his hand. Burn him severely!

The Vaughn Family’s eldest daughter had pride in her bones, reaching this point wasn’t easy. Since Zane Thorne was unwilling to see her, did she have to force herself upon him?

Natalie Vaughn couldn’t do such a thing. She kept a cold expression, looked at the booth, and raised her voice.

"Tell your boss, it’s best if he has the guts to never show his face to anyone ever again."

That way, she wouldn’t have to deal with any pesky matchmaking.

Having said it openly, Natalie turned and left, her heels pounding on the floor, echoing as if dancing on the heartstrings of those around.

After Natalie left, the waiter went into the booth and repeated what she said word for word.

Dean Dempsey was listening nearby and chuckled.

"Mr. Thorne, is this... your affair?"

Zane Thorne uncrossed his legs casually and played with his lighter. Hearing Dean’s comment, he merely glanced at him.

It couldn’t be considered an affair, but there was indeed some entanglement.

Zane rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble emerging again. Whatever he thought of brought a wry smile to his lips. He got up, ready to leave.

Dean called after him.

"Mr. Thorne, remember to come watch the match the day after tomorrow."

Zane waved his hand to acknowledge he’d heard.

Just as he rounded the bar’s corner, he saw a girl in a white dress standing by the roadside, her heels adorned with tiny diamonds catching the moonlight.

Zane paused his steps. For reasons unknown, he leaned against the wall, pulling a cigarette pack from his pocket with only one left.

In rainy weather, his urge to smoke intensified.

The soft click of the lighter caught the cigarette’s tip, glowing dimly in the lively street. Zane took a drag, gazing through the haze.

There was no solid focus in his eyes, only a vague white shadow.

Natalie Vaughn hadn’t expected that just waiting for Phoebe Quinn, a group of riffraff would come to tarnish her sight.

The street, damp from rain, and the earthy smell from the nearby greenery made Natalie’s brows knit tightly. She wasn’t good with alcohol, and the mixed scents made her nauseous. But worse were the three drunks before her.

She couldn’t stand the stench of smoke and alcohol.

So when the three men approached, hands wanting to touch her face, Natalie nimbly dodged aside and casually grabbed an object from nearby.

"Get lost."

The dress she wore was a gift from her mother’s recent trip abroad; she didn’t want it tainted by this filth.

The leader, a greasy middle-aged man, squinted from drinking. Seeing Natalie’s defiance, he got more interested, grinning with a disgusting invitation.

"Hey little girl, come, big brother will show you something fun."

Displaying a set of yellowing teeth, Natalie’s patience hit its limit. Without caring what she held, she raised it and swung at the man’s head.

A loud crash, not out of place on this street.

The shadow leaned on the wall seemed to stir, as the red dot brightened and faded.

With full force in her swing, the man crumpled to the ground. His two companions, dulled by drink, didn’t react until the man cried out, hurling curses.

"Screw you, girl, what are you waiting for? Hold her down, now!"

The other two finally moved. Natalie took a step back, pursing her lips. These heels were custom-designed by her sister-in-law for her eighteenth birthday; she adored them and wore them ever since.

With a furrowed brow, she quickly decided, took advantage of their sluggishness to crouch, and slip off her shoes, intending to put them aside and personally handle these vile creatures.

But with a few drinks in her, bending down made her vision blur. Natalie gritted her teeth to maintain balance.

Even as she adjusted, the two men advanced, reeking of booze.

Her body tense, instinctively defending, Natalie vowed to pummel them senseless if her shoes were damaged.

But there was no need. Phoebe Quinn had arrived, with Aaron Channing in tow. Aaron swiftly knocked the two down, while Phoebe in her heels followed, landing harsh stomps on the fallen men’s hands.

Cries of pain echoed everywhere.

Natalie breathed a sigh of relief.

Her shoes and dress were unharmed.

Phoebe and Aaron rushed over, checking Natalie with concern.

"Nina, are you alright?"

Phoebe’s eyes were filled with panic. Heaven knows how scared she was seeing Nina cornered by three men.

Aaron too was shaken, thankful he’d come with Phoebe.

Natalie raised her eyebrows at her childhood friends.

"What’s there to worry about me?"

Phoebe and Aaron, startled, forgot that Mr. Vaughn had taught Natalie karate since she was young.

Natalie asked Aaron to deal with the fallen trio, then noticed the object she grabbed was a sign left by a nearby shop.

"Do you have cash?"

Phoebe, on the phone, gestured for Natalie to check her bag.

Natalie pulled out two bills, retrieved the damaged sign, and placed it at the shop’s door.

She was still barefoot, her pale skin and painted nails stark under the moonlight.

After putting it back, Natalie wiped down her heels with a tissue.

In the night, on the bar street, a barefoot girl amidst the noise of dealing with three drunks, she was absorbed in her own world, checking her shoes and dress.

In the shadowy corner, Zane still leaned against the wall. He had finished the cigarette during the scene, playing with his lighter, the antique silver casing catching light, occasionally reflecting the engraved pattern.

Zane’s gaze fell again on those bare feet, eyes narrowing. The bold colors matched the earlier fierce actions.

Zane thought, she shouldn’t wear a white dress.

In a fleeting moment of clarity, Zane looked up at the girl’s face, stopping the lighter’s play, hands in pockets, straightening to leave.

At that moment, Natalie seemed to sense something, turning to look where Zane had stood, brows furrowed. She hesitated, then stepped over.

No presence remained, only the lingering smoke in the air. Oddly, a non-smoker herself, she found the tobacco scent tolerable.

Natalie paused, glancing back at the bar’s entrance.