Chapter 7 Kenneth Was An Asshole

Those who already held a grudge against Selena seemed to regard her with even more disdain now.

Given the prevailing situation, it appeared inevitable that Giselle would soon replace Selena as the CEO's wife.

Selena's opinion of Kenneth had soured considerably. He had publicly humiliated her to shield his mistress, utterly disregarding her dignity and seemingly without justification.

The so-called "indiscretions" about Selena were hardly even scandalous. Just a few days prior at a gala, she had stumbled, only to be caught by a well-known young celebrity. She had merely smiled and expressed her gratitude. Nothing more; nothing less. The media, always seeking sensationalism, had blown the incident out of proportion, crafting stories about her and that young male star.

The situation had been cleared up in a matter of hours, yet it seemed Kenneth just wouldn't let it go.

Did he truly believe the scandal? Even it was true, he was such an asshole that he didn't even had the right to judge her in the first place!

But Selena couldn't confront him; he had leverage over her.

Inhaling deeply to calm herself, she suppressed her rising anger.

Bending down, she collected the scattered papers and, in a defiant move, handed them to Giselle. With a hint of arrogance, she remarked, "Once you're done with your business, get him to sign it. After all, you must be useful for him to keep you around."

Giselle's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger, yet she managed to maintain her composure.

Holding back tears, Giselle replied, "Please don't misjudge Ken and me, Miss Owen. Our feelings for each other are genuine."

Selena brushed past Giselle, heading straight to her office.

As she walked away, Kenneth's expression grew even grimmer.

"What's the matter, Ken?" Giselle inquired gently, noting his distress.

Kenneth shifted his gaze and gently released her. "I'll call Ian to take you to get checked."

"But it's lunchtime and you haven't eaten. You shouldn't skip meals, especially with your stomach issues," Giselle replied.

Kenneth's expression grew tender, though his appetite for lunch had waned. "Let's get you to the hospital first," he suggested gently. "Afterward, we can grab something to eat."

"Alright," Giselle replied.

As she clung to Kenneth's arm, they headed toward the elevator. Internally, Giselle made a silent vow; one day, she would ensure that Selena was ousted from both the company and Kenneth's life.

Drained, Selena had dozed off on the office sofa all afternoon.

She didn't get the chance to eat lunch, even though Jayla brought her some at the office.

By the time she stirred, dusk had enveloped the city. Troubling visions had haunted her sleep: images of her parents plunging from a building, leaving her gasping for air.

Upon walking out of her office, she found the company deserted.

Selena left work and drove through the city streets without a destination in mind, reluctant to return home. The familiar sign of the Empirrel Bar caught her eye, prompting her to pull over.

The locals of Friesey enjoyed their leisure, and they usually gathered at bars and clubs after their work.

They didn't really do it for the alcohol but for the fleeting moments of reprieve from the pressures of life. With a drink in hand, surrounded by friends, they'd chat the night away beneath a starry canopy.

Selena once relished such evenings. However, since the fall of the Owen family and her new title as Mrs. Powell, these outings had become a distant memory, replaced by other obligations.

But tonight, her entrance into the bar had a different feel.

Perched on a barstool, she ordered a drink and exchanged some pleasantries with the bartender. But the moment was interrupted by her phone's chime.

Glancing down, she discovered a text from an unfamiliar number.

What she saw on the message had left her stunned.

The photo showcased a dashing man and an elegant woman, deeply engrossed in conversation at an upscale restaurant. There was no mistaking it. It was Kenneth and Giselle in the photo.

She didn't need to think twice about the sender's identity. How predictable!

With a mix of amusement and disdain, Selena cast her phone aside, opting to drown her annoyance with a swig of her drink.

The potency of the alcohol caught her off-guard, leading to a sudden fit of coughing. A hand reached out, patting her back, accompanied by a soft voice that said, "A drink like that should be sipped slowly."