“Get out right now!”
Neville noticed the intensity of Matthew’s anger and, though dissatisfied, he responded, “I understand.”
Half an hour later, with a screeching halt, a sleek black Maybach pulled up abruptly in front of the hotel.
As soon as Matthew entered the hotel, Neville hastened over to him, his frustration apparent.
He made a face and complained, “Did that woman sweet-talk you? Are you so worried I’ll confront her? You asked me to get out and even came here specifically. What the hell are you planning Matthew shot a serious look at Neville and said, “My wife is Stella Anderson.”
Neville, in a fit of anger, retorted without hesitation, “I know her name’s Stella. So what…”
Uncertainty crept into his expression as he whispered, “Wait. Is she…”
“Yes,” Mathew confessed.
“My personal PR officer, Stella, happens to be my wife.”
Neville’s disbelief was palpable as he asked, “Are you sure? What a coincidence!”
“I’ve double-checked it.” Matthew replied casually.
Neville’s mouth hung open in surprise, his confusion evident.
“Then who’s the woman I met earlier?”
Matthew honestly explained, “That’s Miley Cullen, Stella’s best friend.”
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The photo Neville sent mainly captured Miley, but he zoomed in, spotting Stella’s figure in the corner.
That was why he rushed here.
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It took Neville a while to sort through these things.
“So, did I get her wrong?”
Matthew nodded.
He never expected such a coincidence.
“I misunderstood her before. I’m still trying to make amends,”
Matthew said remorsefully.
Neville stayed silent, still processing all the information.
Matthew urged, “Keep it under wraps for now. Don’t do anything impulsive