CHAPTER 120: CHAPTER 120: WHO DOESN’T HAVE AN EX?

Summer’s Chinese wasn’t good enough to fully understand the meaning of "guest follows the host", and the rambling words of Holly Crowe left her utterly confused.

But she could understand the phrase "lack of manners", realizing it was an insult directed at her.

Her blue eyes widened in anger as she snapped back in a mix of Chinese and English, "What? Is that how you speak? So rude!"

She looked towards Blake Sinclair, seeking support, in utter disbelief, "Arthur, are you just going to allow her to speak like this?"

Upon hearing her complaint to Blake Sinclair, Holly’s lips curled into a sardonic smile, "What? Weren’t you just advocating freedom a moment ago? Are you saying you’re allowed freedom in your relationships, but I can’t have freedom of speech? Isn’t that a little hypocritical?"

Summer was rendered speechless by the retort, stomping her foot in frustration and urgently saying to Blake, "Arthur! Are you... are you just going to watch her speak about Shannon like that, with no regard for past feelings?"

Past feelings?

Those words were like a thorn, pricking Holly’s heart and spreading a chill that even made her fingertips cold.

She looked at Blake Sinclair beside her, his jaw taut.

So, there really was something between them.

Yet he had previously insisted, emphatically, that there was no connection.

So everyone here knew about their past, and she was the only one kept in the dark?

This feeling of exclusion was terrible.

Holly only felt a bitterness rising in her throat.

While she was lost in thought, Blake Sinclair’s voice suddenly broke the silence, low and hard.

"What feelings do I need to regard with her?"

Suddenly, her hand was held by a pair of warm palms, their grip firm.

Summer was momentarily stunned by his counter-question, stammering, "You... you..."

But when she saw the cold look he threw her way, she instinctively shrank back, the defiant look on her face paling, lips quivering, unable to utter a coherent sentence for a long time.

Holly was stunned.

She thought Blake Sinclair might gloss over the matter for decorum’s sake, but he didn’t at all.

He didn’t even give Summer the opportunity to speak, turning his gaze to Shannon Yarrow, his tone unforgiving, "You tell me, what feelings do we share?"

The air in the private room tightened instantly.

Shannon was caught off guard by his direct question, her previously poised demeanor collapsing, clutching her skirt hem, instinctively lowering her head to conceal the panic in her eyes.

Holly stood by, watching Blake Sinclair’s straight back, and suddenly the grievance in her heart was dispersed somewhat.

She hadn’t expected Blake to throw the question back to those involved directly.

It felt like she had been hiding in a dark room, listening to the rain outside and overthinking, shivering too afraid to go out.

Yet Blake Sinclair burst through the door, pulling her into the sunlight, showing her through his actions that there was no storm, all just her own misconception.

Summer, a bit incoherent, tried to defend herself, "How can you... you can’t..."

Blake had already run out of patience, turned to Henry Dempsey, who wished he could vanish into the ground, and said, his tone cold and commanding, "Control your people."

At that moment, the gentle indulgence he had shown Holly was completely withdrawn, replaced by the lofty, commanding presence of a superior, lowering the atmospheric pressure within the room several degrees.

Henry felt a chill run down his spine, quickly moving forward to pull the still-defiant Summer away, apologizing repeatedly to Holly.

He half-pulled, half-dragged her out of the room.

Leaving only the three of them in a standoff.

Shannon’s complexion turned red, then white, finally settling into a bleak gray.

She squeezed her palm painfully, forcing out a bitter smile more unsightly than crying.

She looked at Blake Sinclair’s cold features before finally settling her gaze on Holly, "I’m sorry, we came uninvited today and deeply apologize for disturbing your gathering. I’ll leave now."

With that, she intended to turn and leave.

"Stop."

Blake Sinclair’s voice sounded again, firm, "Without clearing things up, who gave you permission to leave?"

Shannon halted.

Blake squeezed Holly’s hand a bit tighter, watching Shannon’s retreating figure, "I don’t want any baseless rumors affecting our marriage."

Shannon slowly turned back, her eyes rimmed with tears.

Her gaze at Blake was full of grievance and reproach.

"...Okay."

It seemed to take all her strength to utter the word, her voice fractured.

Shannon looked at Holly, pronouncing each word as if wrenching it from her heart, "Sorry. Summer’s words caused you a misunderstanding."

Taking a deep breath, her tears finally fell, "Between Mr. Sinclair and me, it’s just an ordinary friendship, nothing more. Please don’t overthink it."

Having said that, she turned to Blake, her voice trembling, "Is that okay, Mr. Sinclair?"

Without waiting for a response, she compressed her lips and left.

Holly watched her leave, that sense of relief she’d begun to feel suddenly clogged up again.

That was no clarification; it was clearly being forced into a corner, only admitting under Blake Sinclair’s stern stance that there was nothing between them.

Moreover, her explanation of merely being friends made Holly feel like the bad guy.

A vague sense of irritation surged within her.

It was truly tiresome.

This feeling was utterly dreadful.

As if everything was just her making a scene, forcing Blake Sinclair to take a stand, forcing Shannon to acknowledge their just-friends status.

It was like in their so-called Brelond social circle, she was the outsider, the intruder.

This bafflingly imposed role left her feeling incredibly fatigued.

Instinctively, Holly wanted to pull back her hand from Blake’s grip, wanting to digest these emotions alone.

Yet scarcely had she made a move when Blake, as if anticipating it, tightened his hold instead of loosening it.

Holly looked up at the man beside her.

The dim lighting in the room smoothed his features to a slight blur.

Though they stood so close, fingers interlaced, skin against skin, Holly still felt there was an invisible gulf between them.

On one side, was a past of his that she possibly couldn’t understand or partake in.

On this side, was the current, awkward, and uncomfortable situation she was dragged into.

A deep, indescribable sense of helplessness washed over her.

The anticipation and curiosity she had felt before they arrived, the satisfaction in confrontation, all vanished in that wearying tug-of-war.

Holly sighed, shifting her gaze away, now harboring nothing but indifference, "Let’s go home, I’m tired."

Without hesitation, Blake held her hand tight, "Alright."

.....

The car ride was utterly silent.

Holly turned her head, watching the neon lights flicker by outside, without a word.

Several times, Blake wanted to speak, yet the invisible barrier of coldness around her repelled him.

Once home, Holly changed her shoes and walked straight inside, not giving Blake a single chance to explain.

Following behind, he put her shoes into the cabinet, watching her back with a heavy heart.

She was angry.

"Holly, about tonight..." he broke the silence, attempting to reach for her hand, but she avoided him.

"Hmm?"

Holly smirked, her tone light, "What about it? You truly don’t need to explain; even if there was something between you and Shannon, it’s fine."

She shrugged, her demeanor unconcerned, "After all, who doesn’t have an ex? It’s all normal, I can understand."

Blake’s heart chilled halfway.

It was over.

She’s started speaking in reverse, she must be really upset.

Blake panicked; he preferred Holly questioning him, even throwing a tantrum, rather than having her emotions tightly wrapped up, untouchable as they were now.