Chapter 7 Sudden Accident

The hallway outside the restroom was quiet—too quiet. Chloe's heels clicked sharply against the tile as she hurried after Luna, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to a stop.

The syrupy sweetness from dinner vanished instantly. Her smile twisted into something cold and calculating.

"Luna," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Stop fooling yourself. Do you really think you can win Marcus back?"

She spoke as if she were claiming territory—staking her flag on conquered ground. But to Luna, it was nothing more than pathetic.

Luna jerked her arm free, her expression icy. "I'm not trying to win him back. Don't flatter yourself." Her voice was sharp, cutting. "Your relationship with Marcus is none of my business. But do me a favor—stop showing up in front of me just to prove a point."

"None of your business?" Chloe let out a mocking laugh, her eyes gleaming with disdain.

Marcus's success was undeniable. Anyone under the Graham family's protection would rise effortlessly—let alone the woman who became Mrs. Graham.

"Luna, I brought you here tonight for one reason." Chloe stepped closer, her voice low and venomous. "To make you see who really matters to Marcus. Who actually deserves to stand beside him."

Before Luna could respond, a piercing scream tore through the restaurant.

Then came the crash of chairs toppling, glass shattering, chaos erupting.

Both women froze. Their heads snapped toward the dining hall.

A disheveled man stood in the center of the restaurant, wild-eyed and clutching a gleaming fruit knife. He slashed at tables, swung at anything within reach. Guests scattered, screaming, sobbing, stumbling over each other in their panic.

The man moved like something unhinged—smashing, slashing, destroying everything in his path.

Luna's face drained of color. She took an instinctive step back, her heart hammering. She'd never imagined a simple dinner could turn into this.

Chloe trembled violently beside her, her legs barely holding her upright. All her earlier arrogance had evaporated, replaced by raw terror.

She pressed closer to Luna without thinking.

The man stopped. His crazed gaze locked onto the hallway—onto Luna and Chloe.

His eyes burned with something feral. He raised the knife and charged toward them, roaring incoherently.

Chloe screamed, her body going limp. She nearly collapsed.

Suddenly, the door to the private dining room slammed open.

Marcus burst out.

He took in the scene in an instant—his face went ashen, his chest seizing with panic. Without thinking, he bolted toward them.

The knife was seconds away from striking.

Luna's gaze locked onto Marcus. Her heart stuttered.

He was running toward her.

For one fleeting, foolish moment, she let herself hope. Maybe—just maybe—she still mattered to him.

But the next second shattered everything.

Marcus ran straight past her.

He wrapped his arms around Chloe, pulling her into his chest and shielding her with his own body. His back turned toward the blade, his eyes fierce as he snarled at the attacker.

"Get the hell back!"

In the chaos, the knife sliced across his palm. Blood welled up instantly, staining the cuff of his pristine white shirt.

Luna stood frozen.

The cold seeped into her bones, paralyzing her. She felt like she'd been struck by lightning—her breath caught, her chest hollow.

She stared at Marcus's back as he held Chloe close, as if she were the only thing in the world worth protecting.

And Luna?

She was nothing. A stranger. An afterthought. Even in danger, she wasn't worth a second glance.

But while she stood there, stunned and motionless, the man turned.

The knife came for her.

She tried to move—but it was too late. The blade was already too close.

She braced for the pain.

It never came.

A figure lunged in front of her. A dull, sickening thud echoed as the knife sank into flesh.

Logan grunted, his face twisting in pain as the blade pierced his arm.

Within seconds, hotel security swarmed in and wrestled the attacker to the ground.

"Logan!" Luna's voice cracked. Her face went white as she saw the blood pouring from his arm.

She rushed to him, her hands shaking as she pressed against the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. Tears blurred her vision.

"Are you okay? Oh God—we need to get you to a hospital. Right now. Right now—"

Logan grimaced, but he forced a reassuring smile. He gently patted her trembling hand. "Hey. I'm fine. It's just a scratch. Don't worry."

But his pale face and the blood soaking through his sleeve said otherwise.

Luna's panic only deepened. She wrapped an arm around him, supporting his weight as she hurried toward the exit.

She didn't spare Marcus or Chloe a single glance.

Marcus stood there, still holding Chloe—but his eyes were locked on Luna.

He watched her rush to Logan's side. Watched her tears fall onto Logan's bloodied arm. Watched her entire world narrow to that injured man, as if Marcus didn't even exist.

Jealousy surged through him—hot, bitter, all-consuming.

His decision to shield Chloe hadn't been about favoritism. It had been calculated. Strategic. He'd thought he could protect both of them.

But he'd miscalculated. Badly.

Now he was bleeding, Luna's heart had turned to ice, and she was running straight into another man's arms.

His fingers curled into fists, then loosened. Each movement sent a fresh jolt of pain through his slashed palm—but it was nothing compared to the ache tightening around his chest.

He took a step forward, instinctively wanting to follow her.

Then stopped.

He had no right. He shouldn't care.

But watching her cling to Logan like that—watching her leave without a backward glance—drove him insane.

He couldn't even tell anymore if it was jealousy, regret, or something else entirely.

All he knew was that it hurt.