Chapter 12

Samantha clasped her hands tightly, her fingers almost digging into her palms. Ever since the memory loss, she'd been unusually on edge—what made others a bit nervous often sent her spiraling.

She was always trying her best to look calm. Most people wouldn't pick up on how anxious she really was unless they paid close attention.

But right now? The tension in her whole body must've been obvious—even Evan probably noticed. That explained why he was getting cockier by the second.

"Noah's about to be roasted by both insiders and the public—just wait until they hear he accepted a fat bribe from a pharma rep like me. Imagine the chaos... tsk tsk."

His words hit her like a slap. Her heart sank. This was a mess she wasn't sure how to clean up.

While she was still trying to steady herself, Evan snatched her phone and quickly started deleting the video inside.

"You think threatening me with this kinda crap's gonna work? Doesn't matter anyway. Once something hits the internet, the haters and trolls come flooding in. Neither of us can control what happens next. You get that, right?"

"You deleting it changes nothing," Samantha said flatly, making no move to grab her phone back. "I've already saved a copy elsewhere."

Evan's face tightened. "What do you want from me? I told you, it's way past the point of fixing. Tell me what you expect me to do." He spread his hands helplessly.

"I want you to go public and admit that the report against Noah was fake and malicious."

That sent him off. "Are you nuts? I just told you—even if I do that, once people start digging and find the tiniest bit of dirt on him, he's toast. Instead of wasting time here, maybe think about finalizing the divorce, split the assets, and go find yourself another guy. Probably someone better than me."

"Don't you walk away!"

Samantha stood up, blocking his path. "You're not even worried I might release the backup video?"

"You won't dare. You know what happens if my name's dragged through mud and I lose my job? Think about what that could do to the rest of the Smiths. Your beloved Grandma Smith—do you really think she could handle that? And Evelyn's still in the hospital, unconscious. You really willing to hurt them too?"

He hit her right where it hurt. The smug grin on Evan's face made her stomach turn.

Some people really had no shame. Using others' compassion as a weapon? Unbelievable.

Samantha gave him a hard look. And for a second, she almost pitied the rest of the Smith family. Evelyn had spoiled this man her entire life—and this was the result?

Suddenly, a sharp voice cut in.

"Get your hands off him, you shameless woman!"

Samantha barely had time to react before someone shoved her from the side. She stumbled but managed to stay upright. When she looked up, she saw Monica—arms crossed, attitude dialed all the way up.

"Seriously, Samantha? Didn't you already land yourself a rich guy? What are you still doing here trying to hook up with Evan? I really thought you moved on. Guess not, huh?"

Samantha had known Monica for three years. Sure, the woman had always been blunt and a little harsh, but back when Monica used to talk about being best friends with her and Lila, she usually let it go.

But now that they were clearly on opposite sides, Samantha realized Monica's harshness hadn't lessened with time—it had gotten worse. And cruel.Monica still had that heavy makeup on and stood a bit taller than Samantha in her stilettos. Hands on her hips, she looked every bit like she was about to start a street fight, totally clashing with the chill vibe of the café.

The irony was ridiculous—she was the one who wrecked someone's relationship, yet now she was acting like she was the betrayed one.

Samantha shook her head with a dry laugh. Honestly? These two really were a match made in mess.

"Relax," she said lightly, voice calm but cool. "Not everyone's into rotten leftovers."

That little dig got a chuckle from nearby onlookers. Monica didn't get it right away, blinking before asking, "What does that even mean?"

Evan's face turned pale as a sheet. He shot Monica a sharp look. "Why are you even here?"

"We work together, remember? I thought I'd swing by. Didn't expect to catch you with her though. Weren't you saying how much you hated her? Or did you change your mind now that she's walking away?" Monica snapped with blatant sarcasm.

Evan bristled, his ego clearly bruised. He frowned hard. "Can you stop with the nonsense? Leave. Now. Don't make a scene."

"Oh, I'm the one making a scene? Please. You're the one sneaking around with your ex. That's what's embarrassing." Monica's sharp voice carried without effort—whether she meant to raise it or not, she was practically yelling.

Given this café was right under their office building and Evan valued his image above all else, his face darkened instantly. He hissed, "Keep your voice down, will you? Just go!"

Even as he tried to tug her away, Monica yanked her arm back. Her eyes darted to the untouched cup of coffee on the table and—before anyone could react—she grabbed it and hurled it straight at Samantha.

Samantha, half-expecting Monica to blow up, had already stepped slightly back, but not far enough to fully dodge the flying coffee.

Bang!

A transparent umbrella suddenly popped open in front of her, perfectly blocking every drop of the hot liquid.

"Ah!" Monica screamed just as the cup shattered on the floor.

Samantha, peering through the clear umbrella, saw the coffee hit it and then rebound with brutal precision—drenching Monica from head to toe. Even Evan's once-white shirt got splashed. He looked like he'd just walked through a storm cloud.

"You okay?"

A warm, steady hand caught hold of Samantha's shoulder, guiding her slightly back. She felt herself lean into a broad chest, comforted by a voice she knew too well.

Samantha spun around, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"It started raining. Brought you an umbrella," Noah said as he smoothly folded it shut.

Monica stared at him, stunned and not even trying to hide the envy burning in her eyes. "Noah?"

Noah looked at her calmly, his voice low but cutting.

"Miss Taylor, tossing coffee works great on TV for cheap drama, but in real life? It's just tacky—kind of like what you look like right now."

He gestured as if offering her a mirror.

She didn't need one—she could feel the coffee dripping from her hair all the way down to her heels. She stomped her foot angrily and turned to leave in humiliation.

Evan didn't bother chasing after her. He was too busy trying to wipe down his stained shirt, ignoring Monica's meltdown completely. The more he wiped, the worse the stain looked. He gave up with a grunt, tossed the napkin, glared hard at Noah, then turned and stormed out.

Noah raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered.

His eyes went back to Samantha—completely focused now. He didn't say anything at first, just scanned her up and down to make sure she was really okay.

Samantha, a little flustered under his gaze, shifted away. "How'd you even know I was here?"