Chapter 2 Viral video moment - punching Adrik

Noelle's POV

If I had known that swinging a beer mug at a drunk tech bro was going to be the start of a public relations apocalypse, I would've at least worn better jeans.

Or maybe I wouldn't have done it at all.

Okay, no.

I still would've clocked the guy.

Because if there's one thing the world needs less of, it's entitled jerks grabbing women like they're prizes at a county fair.

Still, waking up the next morning with a pounding headache, sticky hair, and a billion missed calls was not part of the plan.

Neither was being internet famous.

My phone vibrates violently on my nightstand, making a horrible buzzing sound like an angry wasp.

I groan, pull the blanket over my head, and pray for death or at least another two hours of sleep.

But the universe is a petty little gremlin and has other plans.

"NOELLE!" Cami screeches, throwing open the door like she's been possessed by a caffeine demon. "You need to get up right now!"

I let out something between a grunt and a curse word. "Unless the bar burned down, it can wait."

"Oh, it's way worse than that," she says, practically bouncing on her toes. "You're trending."

My brain, still soggy from working the late shift, lurches at the word. "Trending? Like...I got a coupon code trending?"

She launches herself onto the bed, shoving her phone screen into my face.

And there it is. My own dumb face frozen mid swing, beer mug in hand, expression twisted in righteous fury as I absolutely obliterate some guy at the bar.

Above it:

#BartenderBatman

#TechBroTakeDown

#QueenNoelle

"Son of a..."

I sit up so fast I nearly break Cami's nose.

"WHY," I croak, snatching the phone, "WHY IS THIS ON THE INTERNET?!"

Cami is laughing so hard she's crying.

"I tried to tell you! Some influencer chick was at the bar! She filmed the whole thing! It's on TikTok, Insta, Twitter, Facebook, hell...it's probably even on LinkedIn by now!"

I scroll frantically through the comments.

> "Somebody give this woman a medal."

"My hero."

"Protect this queen at all costs."

"Dude deserved it lmao."

"Is that... ADRIK CARTER??"

I freeze.

I reread that last comment.

And then again.

And then a third time, because surely, my brain is playing cruel tricks on me.

"Wait," I whisper. "Did they just say...Adrik Carter?"

Cami's face goes serious. "Yup. The dude you punched? Totally Adrik Carter."

My heart does a weird, panicky somersault.

"No, no, no, no. You're lying. You're joking. You're drunk."

She snorts. "Unfortunately not. You assaulted a billionaire, babe."

I blink.

Blink again.

Open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.

"Billionaire. As in, multi billion dollar founder of Aurum Tech. The dude who's richer than God and Elon Musk's evil twin combined?"

"Yup."

"I hit him."

"Yup."

"In the face."

"YUP."

I bury my face in my hands and scream into the mattress.

This is it. This is how I die.

Not from a tragic accident or a heroic rescue attempt, but from being sued into oblivion by a tech god.

"What do I do?" I wail.

Cami pats my back like I'm a small, confused dog. "First, you shower. You smell like expired beer and bad decisions. Second... lawyer up?"

I groan louder.

Just then, my phone buzzes again.

Unknown Number.

I stare at it like it's a live grenade.

"Answer it," Cami hisses.

"No way. It's probably a process server. I'm not ready to be served!"

"It could be Oprah."

"It's not Oprah."

"It could be Keanu Reeves inviting you to join a secret vigilante group."

I glare at her.

Another buzz. Another. Another.

Finally, on the sixth ring, I snatch the phone and answer, heart jackhammering in my chest.

"H-hello?"

Silence.

Then a clipped, professional voice.

"Ms. Winters, this is Sandra Lowell, legal counsel for Mr. Adrik Carter. We'd like to request a meeting."

I squeak.

Like, full on, mouse being stepped on squeak.

"Um. I. Uh. Is this about the, um. The incident?"

"Mr. Carter would prefer to discuss it in person."

Cami mouths, be cool!

I clear my throat. Try for dignity. Fail miserably.

"Yeah, sure, I can, uh, meet. Totally. Yep. Very professional. Very not a criminal."

There's a pause, and I'm pretty sure I hear muffled laughter on the other end before she rattles off an address downtown.

"Please be prompt, Ms. Winters. Mr. Carter does not appreciate tardiness."

Mr. Carter can suck a lemon.

"Of course," I say sweetly. "Wouldn't want to keep the guy I punched waiting."

Three hours later, I'm standing in front of the sleekest, most intimidating building I've ever seen.

STERLING TOWER, the sign reads, glinting in the afternoon sun like a middle finger to poor people everywhere.

Glass walls. Men in suits that probably cost more than my life savings.

I feel like a goblin that wandered into a dragon's hoard.

I almost turn around and bolt.

But then I think about Lila.

About student loans.

About the hole in my damn sneakers.

I square my shoulders and march inside.

Security is waiting for me. They lead me through a maze of glass elevators, cold steel hallways, and whispered stares until finally

A huge set of double doors.

The guard nods. "He's expecting you."

Here goes nothing, I think as I push the doors open.

And there he is.

Sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, wearing a black button-down shirt and a glare so intense it could vaporize small planets.

Adrik Carter.

Up close, he's even more ridiculous.

Tall, broad-shouldered, sharp angles softened only slightly by the exhaustion shadowing his face. His hands are steepled under his chin, and those ice-blue eyes track my every move like a sniper.

"Ms. Winters," he says, voice smooth as silk and twice as deadly.

I swallow hard. "Uh. Hi."

Silence stretches between us like a taut wire.

Finally, he leans back, studying me like I'm some fascinating lab experiment.

"You have an impressive right hook."

I blink.

"Thank you?"

Another silence.

Then and I swear I must be hallucinating his mouth twitches.

A ghost of a smile.

Gone so fast I almost doubt it happened.

He stands, crossing the room with predatory grace, and stops just inches from me.

"You caused me significant media headaches," he says. "Do you know how many PR fires I've had to put out today?"

I fidget under his gaze. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know who you were. I thought you were just some random guy harassing my waitress."

He raises one brow. "You didn't even hesitate."

"Yeah, well," I mutter, "someone's gotta look out for the little guys."

Another pause.

Then, shockingly, Adrik lets out a soft, almost grudging chuckle.

"I like that," he says.

I gape at him.

Is...is this real life?

"Which is why," he continues, turning to his desk and flipping open a thick folder, "I have a proposition for you."

My stomach knots. "Is this where you sue me for everything I own?"

His eyes gleam.

"No," he says smoothly. "This is where I offer you a contract."

I blink. Again. I'm starting to worry about retinal damage.

"A...contract?"

He slides the folder across the desk to me.

"Marry me," he says. "For one year."

I stare at him.

Stare at the folder.

Stare at him again.

"Did you hit your head harder than I thought?"

He smiles.

A real, terrifying, gorgeous smile.

"Noelle Winters," he says, "welcome to chaos."