Charles and Freda stood by the entrance, where guests flowed in and out, heading toward their assigned seats.
From that very spot, Charles caught a clear glimpse of the giant screen—his breath hitched.
There it was. The image of him and Augustine locked in a kiss, displayed for all to see.
His body froze.
Around him, voices swirled—sharp, confused, mocking.
"Is that a guy?"
"Wait… is that the CEO?"
"Disgusting."
The words pierced Charles chest like ice.
Freda turned to him, alarm flickering in her eyes, but Charles couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His world was suddenly, terrifyingly, on display.
Charles's grip tightened around the sweeping brush in his hands, his knuckles turning white.
Beside him, Freda was seething, her eyes blazing with fury.
"How dare someone try to ruin CEO Augustine like that?" she hissed under her breath, clenching her fists. "After everything he's worked for?"
