He didn’t know Snowball was already gone, escorted away by Jonathan’s men and bound for the airport.
Clara looked at him—this man once admired, now pitiful and grotesque. His words were absurd, his eyes deranged. Slowly, firmly, she shook her head.
“Adrian, it’s over. I’m not going back.”
The ice in her voice cut deeper than any slap. His face twisted, first with disbelief, then fury.
“Fine! You think Jonathan is sincere? He’s just playing with you. You’ll see how long you last without me. Sooner or later, you’ll crawl back on your knees!”
With curses still spilling from his mouth, he yanked Vanessa by the arm and stumbled out, leaving only disgrace in his wake.
Jonathan shielded her with his body, then guided her quickly out of the restaurant.
“Jonathan,” her voice was hoarse but steady, “take me to the airport.”
His brow furrowed. “Not even one more night to rest? Your body—”
“No.” She shook her head, voice sharp with finality. “If I stay, even for one night, I’ll suffocate.”
For a moment, he searched her face. Then he nodded, decisive. “Very well.”