Chapter Six: His Jealousy

Ashton was seething with anger at the sight before him. He tossed his cigarette aside and stormed towards them, kicking the door open and shoving the model who was trying to embrace Layla. "Who do you think you are? How dare you touch my wife?" Layla, rudely interrupted, was not in the mood anymore. When she realized it was Ashton, her expression turned icier as she scolded him, "Ashton, have you lost your mind?" Ashton was taken aback by her defense of the stranger and felt his anger boiling over. Just as he was about to lash out at the model, Poppy barged into the room. She grasped Ashton's arm tightly, leaning in coyly and asking, "Mr. Hayes, why have you been ignoring my calls? I've tried reaching out to you many times." Ashton pushed Poppy away and was ready to give her a piece of his mind. "I already knew you wouldn't be here alone, Ashton," Layla said, brushing past Poppy and Ashton and motioning for the model to follow her. "The night is still young, so I'll leave you to it. Let's just do our own thing without getting in each other's way." It was at that moment when Poppy had a sudden realization - the woman in the room was Layla, and it dawned on her that their marriage was truly over. The once obedient Layla had come to the club to have fun with other men, and Ashton had caught her red-handed. Seeing this as her golden opportunity, Poppy felt a rush of victory within, though she kept a poker face. Smirking, she mocked, "Well, if it isn't Mrs. Hayes! Who knew you had such a wild side to sneak around with other men behind your husband's back." Ashton's already gloomy expression darkened even more. There was even a storm of suppressed emotions swirling beneath the surface. Layla eyed Poppy from head to toe, finding the situation somewhat comical, and shot back, "I'm not quite sure about that, but shouldn't you have the answers? He's sort of your coworker, isn't he? Don't you know better than me what he does?" Poppy instantly caught on to the insinuation in Layla's words and raised her hand to strike. But before she could make a move, Layla acted quickly by delivering a resounding slap across Poppy's face. Poppy stumbled backwards and almost fell onto the ground. She then shouted in outrage, "How dare you!" Ignoring Poppy's outcry, Layla rolled her eyes, grabbed the model's wrist, and began to leave. At that moment, Tristan showed up just in the nick of time to witness the showdown between the "wife" and the mistress. His strides stopped as he took in the scene before him. With lips pressed firmly together and a steely gaze fixed on Layla, his hands clenched into fists. When Layla caught sight of Tristan after hearing footsteps, she unexpectedly found herself locking eyes with him, a strange sense of familiarity washing over her. Shaking her head to dispel these puzzling thoughts, Layla was about to leave the room when Ashton grabbed her arm. "Layla, there's no need for you to degrade yourself like this to get back at me," he said. Layla glared at Ashton as if he were the biggest fool in existence, "You really think highly of yourself, don't you? Just so you know, I'm here to have a good time, not to seek revenge on you. I don't even want to waste my energy dealing with you." As Layla prepared to leave, she suddenly noticed Tristan blocking her path. She never imagined encountering Tristan, a man known for lacking interest in women, in a place like this. "Why is it that only guys like you get to enjoy themselves? Why not me, too?" Layla shot back. "Ashton, don't think so highly of yourself. Money talks, and I can have any man I want with it." The heated showdown between them had already caught the eye of the onlookers in the club, who emerged to watch the drama. The gossip among the spectators began to swirl. While scandals were not uncommon in elite social circles, it was rare for things to escalate to such a public spectacle. Shaken by the chaos, the club manager asked Tristan for help, "Mr. Frucht, could you please help me solve the situation? I can't afford to offend either of them." Tristan, already seething with anger at the sight of Layla with another man, was looking for an outlet for his pent-up emotions. Fixing a chilling gaze on the manager, he asked, "Did you introduce that man to her?" The manager hesitated for a moment before realizing his grave mistake. Before he could clarify his innocence, Tristan seized him by the collar and tossed him into the nearby private room. A surge of intense pain coursed through the manager as Tristan callously pressed his foot onto his chest. At that moment, the manager felt as if he was staring down Death himself, scythe in hand. Overwhelmed by fear, drenched in a cold sweat, and with each breath feeling like a struggle, his face drained of color as he weakly raised a hand in a plea for mercy. Tristan had earned a fearsome reputation in the industry as someone not to be trifled with. However, the manager had never expected it would happen to him. "Please, Mr. Frucht, forgive me! It was Mrs. Hayes... No, it was Miss Hammond herself who wanted to have some fun. I'm just trying to run a business here. I can't turn away customers, can I?" Having encountered all walks of life during his career, the manager could instantly read Tristan's unspoken feelings towards Layla. With a cold expression, Tristan applied more pressure, his tense lips revealing his growing displeasure. Just as the manager braced himself for the worst, Tristan, unexpectedly showing clemency, released his grip. He then hoisted the manager up by his collar with a chilling resolve. "If you dare to do business with her again, you can kiss your business goodbye." The manager nodded desperately in agreement, the fear evident in his eyes as he absorbed the weight of Tristan's warning.