Chapter 16 The Live #2
Before Mia could even lift her glass, Harold jumped to his feet, circling around the table in a rush.
He dropped onto the couch right beside her, sitting close enough that she caught a whiff of his cologne—fresh and a little too strong.
Hazel’s brow arched slightly at the bold move, but Harold pretended not to notice, his attention fixed entirely on Mia.
He lifted his glass toward her with exaggerated cheer. “Cheers,” he said, flashing his best smile.
Mia clinked her glass against his, the soft chime ringing through the lively club. She took a small sip.
“Are you single?” Harold blurted suddenly, leaning toward her with a playful glint in his eyes. His elbow rested on the back of the couch, hand under his chin as he studied her face. “If Hazel had introduced us earlier, we might’ve been married by now.”
Mia choked mid-sip, coughing as her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Hazel let out a laugh, clearly enjoying herself.
“She was married. For five years,” she said pointedly, watching Harold’s confident expression shatter.
“What?” Harold’s face fell instantly, his eyes widening as though he’d just been told a tragic secret.
“She just got divorced,” Hazel continued, barely holding back her laughter at the sight of his open-mouthed shock.
Relief washed over Harold so dramatically that even Sawyer, seated across from them, looked up. Harold exhaled loudly, pressing a hand to his chest. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered under his breath before grinning at Mia. “He’s an idiot for losing you. You’re so beautiful.”
Mia blinked, slightly startled by his earnestness, while Hazel rolled her eyes and lifted her glass.
Harold leaned back on the couch, slinging one arm lazily over the backrest behind Mia, confidence returning in full force.
He took a sip of his beer, smirking to himself.
In his mind, he was already congratulating himself—‘I’m getting married soon,’ he thought smugly.
‘I can’t believe someone was dumb enough to divorce such an adorable woman. ’
Hazel chuckled and shook her head. “He is. She married him at nineteen. Look at her now—divorced at twenty-three.”
Harold nearly dropped his glass. “You’re twenty-three?” He straightened immediately, his grin widening. “We’re basically the same age!”
“But you don’t look that young—you look… more mature,” Mia said, grinning as well.
“Stop lying,” Harold said, waving a careless hand in front of her. He rubbed his jaw lightly, fingers brushing over his trimmed beard with a pleased expression. It was the first time anyone had ever said he looked older than his age.
Across from them, Sawyer had been silent the entire time, watching the exchange with quiet detachment. His posture was composed, legs crossed, one hand resting on his knee.
“I have one question,” he finally spoke, his gaze on Mia. “What are your parents’ names?”
Mia frowned slightly, caught off guard by the strange question. “What?” she asked, confused.
Hazel turned toward him with a look. “What kind of question is that?”
However, Mia didn’t think much of it and answered, “Ericson and Leah Bennett.”
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Sawyer’s eyes—recognition, maybe, or surprise—but his expression quickly smoothed out. He said nothing more.
Just then, Harold’s phone started buzzing on the table. He snatched it up, pressing it to his ear. His playful smile faded into mild irritation as he listened to the voice on the other end. Then, he hung up the call.
“I have to leave,” he said finally, sounding disappointed but trying to play it cool. Rising from the couch, he turned to Mia with a confident grin. “I’ve got some business to handle. I work!” He bragged, his tone carried a hint of pride, as if to impress her one last time.
Without waiting for a reply, he flashed a quick smile and hurried out, nearly bumping into a waiter on his way.
Hazel exhaled, shaking her head in disbelief. Then, she turned back to continue drinking with Mia and Sawyer.
Meanwhile, Kylie passed by on the opposite side of the lounge. Her steps faltered when her eyes landed on Mia sitting with a man across from her. A sly smirk spread across her face as she pulled out her phone and started a live stream for her fans.
“Hey, guys!” Kylie’s hand shot to her face, pressing and angling it to look smaller as she blinked far more than necessary. “It’s been such a long day! Fortunately, Luxe Club invited me for a few drinks.”
The bartender at the counter whipped his head toward her, shocked at her lie, as he continued wiping the glass in his hand.
Since Kylie was a popular actress, the viewer count climbed rapidly.
Moments later, Kylie twisted her phone to adjust the camera. “Oh my gosh, you guys, look at this—Luxe Club really outdid themselves tonight. I mean, just look at these vibes! The lighting, the drinks, everything is perfect. Can you even handle this level of glam?”
She angled the camera ever so slightly, tilting it just enough to catch Mia in the background with Sawyer.
“Oh, and look at that,” Kylie said with a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Some people just can’t handle a night out without drinking themselves halfway off the chair.
So tacky.” Her voice dripped with fake amusement, the kind that pretended to be lighthearted but carried a cruel undertone.
She kept talking, pretending to be oblivious as she let Mia and Sawyer fill the frame.
The angle made it look like Mia was leaning in close to him, though in reality, she was sitting on the opposite couch.
Sawyer’s face was only partially visible—his side profile—but Mia was perfectly clear on screen.
On the opposite side of town, Allen’s phone buzzed continuously with notifications. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and tapped on the live stream. For a long moment, he just stared—then his body went rigid. Shock froze him in place as Mia’s face appeared on the screen.
Without wasting a second, he rushed straight to Alexander’s office and knocked twice.
“Come in,” Alexander’s deep voice called out.
Allen entered quickly, gripping his phone tightly, worry etched across his face. “Mr. Graves,” he said urgently, “you asked me to keep an eye on anything related to Miss Bennett.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow, setting his pen aside. “And?”
Allen stepped closer and slid the phone across the desk. Alexander glanced down, the faintest crease forming between his brows as he studied the screen—Kylie’s livestream. Mia was sitting with another man.
In the next instant, Alexander slammed the phone down, the sound sharp and cold. Allen flinched.
“Drive,” Alexander ordered, his tone a low, dangerous growl. “To Luxe.”