Chapter 255
Lindsay said nothing at first.
She only smiled faintly at Veronica, a composed, practiced smile that made her approval clear without a single word spoken.
The arrangement suited her.
That insolent store manager had not only embarrassed Michael in front of everyone—she had also dulled the mood of her birthday celebration.
Worse still, Michael had spoken up for her.
And even if it had been subtle, it still felt like attention diverted away from Lindsay.
That alone was enough to leave a sting.
Winnie stood still, her gaze fixed on Veronica.
She wanted to say something sharp. Something cutting. Something that would wipe that satisfied expression off her face.
But Veronica only tilted her chin slightly.
A silent challenge.
Provocation without effort.
Winnie’s fingers tightened.
For a moment, it looked like she might snap.
Then—she stopped.
Her expression slowly cooled.
If she struck Veronica now, it would be satisfying for exactly three seconds. After that, it would become a problem. A public one. A Morrison-related one.
And Winnie had learned, painfully, that impulsive satisfaction always came with a longer aftermath.
She had paid that price before.
More than once.
Compared to that, this moment… was nothing.
A corner of her lips lifted slightly.
Cold. Controlled.
Fine.
If they wanted a performance, she would give them one.
Without another word, she reached for the wine bottle on the table.
But before her fingers could close around it—
A hand dropped into view.
A watch glinted under the light.
Rolex.
And then Michael’s grip closed firmly around her wrist.
Warm.
Too warm.
Winnie’s breath caught for a fraction of a second.
Her body reacted before her mind could catch up.
She looked up.
Straight into his eyes.
Dark. Deep-set. Controlled.
There was something restrained there—something heavy that didn’t match the situation in the room.
Michael had always had sharp features, but time had refined him further. The boyish ease she remembered had faded, replaced by something steadier. Colder. More grounded.
And yet—
That look he was giving her…
It didn’t feel cold at all.
Winnie’s chest tightened without permission.
They were strangers now.
They had to be.
So why did it feel like this?
“Let go,” she said flatly.
Two words.
No emotion.
No hesitation.
The room went still.
Everyone saw it now—Michael gripping the store manager’s wrist in front of his fiancée.
Whispers started almost immediately.
One of Michael’s friends coughed awkwardly, already sensing trouble.
Across the table, Lindsay shifted slightly in her seat. Her smile remained, but it no longer looked effortless.
Michael didn’t release her immediately.
Instead, his gaze dropped briefly to the bottle in her hand.
“You can’t drink,” he said quietly.
His hand moved.
He took the bottle from her.
Firmly.
As if it had never been negotiable.
Then he straightened.
His voice, when he spoke again, was directed at Veronica.
“Stop making things difficult for her.”
The words were calm.
But they landed heavily.
“I’m only here for Lindsay’s birthday. Keep it simple. No unnecessary drama.”
A pause.
Then, as if to close the matter completely:
“Lindsay isn’t someone who makes a scene over this kind of thing.”
The implication was subtle—but unmistakable.
Authority without explanation.
The room fell into a strange silence.
Winnie stared at him.
Something in her chest shifted.
He was different.
Not the boy who used to linger around her, laughing too easily, always one step behind her decisions.
This man…
This version of Michael carried weight. Presence. Control.
Veronica’s expression stiffened.
She hadn’t expected him to intervene—not like this. Not for Winnie.
For a moment, she was caught off guard.
Lindsay, meanwhile, was forced into a position she couldn’t openly reject. She kept her smile intact, but it tightened at the edges.
“It’s fine,” she said gently. “Since Michael is here for my birthday, we’ll follow his arrangement.”
Her tone was polite.
Too polite.
A friend beside her clearly wasn’t satisfied and shot Winnie a sharp look.
“Lindsay is always kind,” she said coolly. “Some people really don’t know how to behave properly. Even a manager should understand basic manners.”
Veronica exhaled lightly, forcing a smile as she watched Winnie step back.
No apology.
No breakdown.
Just retreat.
That somehow irritated her more.
Later that night, Lindsay excused herself to the restroom.
She stood before the mirror, adjusting her lipstick carefully, maintaining the image she had worked hard to present.
Then the door opened.
Veronica entered.
“Lindsay,” she said brightly, “I’m really sorry about earlier. You weren’t upset, were you?”
Lindsay’s expression softened immediately.
Of course she couldn’t show dissatisfaction—not here.
She smiled.
“Not at all,” she replied. “I’ve always liked your store. Celebrating here makes me very happy.”