Chapter 20
The following week, Claire was nowhere to be seen.
Ashton could finally sigh in relief. As expected, she couldn’t bear to cut things off with Curtis.
He still remembered how she rushed to Curtis‘ bed to console him because he shed a few tears, while she left him behind, half–dead at Matilda’s hands.
Now that Ashton had left just as Curtis wished, there was no way the latter would let go of Claire so easily.
Perhaps Curtis would only need to choke on his tears, and she would immediately forgive him. Then, they could live happily ever after…
With Claire out of the picture, Giselle felt not only relieved for him but also strangely… down. She didn’t have an excuse to be Ashton’s chauffeur anymore.
Frankly, she appreciated the private time she had spent with him lately. She could vividly feel them getting closer as he acted more naturally and easily around her.
To her, that was enough.
Her notification chime snapped her back to reality. When she looked down, she saw a text message from Ashton.
“Let’s go have dinner tonight. I was wondering if we could check out the new restaurant that Jake recommended.”
A hint of delight flashed across her eyes, and she instantly agreed.
Meanwhile, Ashton himself was pleased to see her positive reply.
A week later, he attended a press conference as a representative of the studio. But on the way to the conference, he had a bad feeling that something was going to happen.
Noticing his nervousness, a concerned Giselle asked, “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”
He paused briefly, then pursed his lips and shook his head.
She wasn’t about to let that slide. “If you’re not feeling well, you should just skip the press conference. It’s not an important event, anyway.”
Ashton forced a smile. “It’s alright. I’m just having the jitters. It’s my first event representing the studio, and I don’t want to miss it.”
He noticed Giselle’s brows were still tightly knitted together, so he calmly assured her, “If I don’t feel well, I promise to opt out of the event. Okay?”
She finally sighed in relief. “Okay. I’ll be at the event with you. If you need anything, just tell me.”
He hummed softly.
At the event, the usher led Ashton to his designated seat. The conference proceeded in accordance, and his mind slowly eased.
But not before long, a man in disheveled clothes suddenly charged up to the platform mid–conference.
Before anyone could react, the man hastily knelt before Ashton and begged, “Please, Mr. Gill. Will you just give me back my wife?”
