?Chapter 227:


    Before anyone could respond, he was already dashing for the door.


    Marshall pointed after him with augh. “Would you look at that? The boy’s finally growing up.”


    With a sharp bang, Eric mmed his ss onto the table, the sound slicing through the air like a p. Without a word, he pushed his chair back and strode toward the exit.


    “Hey! Where are you going?”


    “Home!”


    “What?”


    Marshall and Barrie exchanged dumbfounded nces. What happened to keeping the night going?


    Eric stepped outside just in time to see Hadley slipping into Denver’s car. The sight of Denver grinning like a fool was an eyesore.


    Eric looked away, his patience snapping like a brittle twig. “Sebastian, drive.”


    “Yes, sir.”


    Leaning back, Eric shut his eyes.


    Forget it.


    He had no right to interfere. If Hadley wanted to be with Denver, and with N’s backing, what could he do?


    Still, his expression darkened, his mood soured.


    Maybe it was the alcohol twisting in his veins, but the air in the car felt suffocating. He yanked off his suit jacket and tossed it aside. Then, in one sharp motion, he tore off his tie and flung it onto the seat. It did nothing. The tightness in his chest refused to ease. Unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, he tried to shake off the frustration curling in his stomach—but it was useless. He was beyond livid.


    Denver’s car pulled up to a lively open-air night market, its stalls glowing under warm streetlights, the air thick with the scent of spices and sizzling oil.


    Hadley nced at Denver apologetically. “I’m guessing this is your first time in a ce like this? Sorry, but with my budget, this is about as fancy as it gets.”


    “What? No way.” Denver shook his head with a chuckle. “Sure, I went abroad for school when I was young and never got the chance to explore this part of town, bute on—it’s not like every ce outside Srixby is covered in white tablecloths. We have food trucks, you know.”


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    “You’re right.” Hadley smirked. “But food trucks don’t really count. It’s all just burgers, hot dogs, and overpriced fusion tacos.”


    Denver blinked before breaking intoughter. “Hah! Okay, you got me there.”


    “Rx.” His easygoing nature made Hadley let her guard down a bit. “I promise you, the food here is better than anything you’ll find at some hipster food truck. Come on.”


    She led him to a bustling noodle stall and ordered two bowls of steaming ramen. As she wiped down the table with a napkin, she said, “This ce makes the best ramen in town. You’ll see.”


    “Alright.”


    When the food arrived, Denver took his first bite and nearly groaned. “Wow. This is good.”


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