Chapter 170: Where is his wife?

Meanwhile, with the event about to begin, Thomas was still struggling to reach the venue.

"Why the hell is there so much traffic on this road?" he sneered as his taxi came to a complete stop.

He glanced out the window, watching the endless line of vehicles barely move. He had already been stuck in the cab for quite some time, and every passing minute was making him more impatient.

He checked the time on his phone.

He was supposed to have arrived at the venue by now. Instead, he was wasting precious time sitting in traffic, unable to do anything about it.

"Sir, I know a way to help you reach your destination faster," the driver suddenly said, drawing Thomas’s attention.

Thomas turned toward him. "You do?"

"Yes, sir. There’s another route nearby. It’s not as crowded as this one."

Thomas glanced at the traffic again. The cars ahead had barely moved, and the honking around him was beginning to grate on his nerves.

He considered the driver’s suggestion for a moment.

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed.

Another call.

Thomas stared at the screen but didn’t answer. He had already ignored several calls from the same person, fully aware that picking up would mean listening to a furious lecture.

The call ended.

A second later, a message appeared.

Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you answering my calls?

Thomas’s eyes widened slightly.

"Damn it," he muttered.

He had been avoiding the calls because he didn’t want to deal with the person on the other end. But now, as time continued to slip away, he felt increasingly trapped—not by the traffic, but by the consequences of his delay.

Another message arrived.

Don’t make me look for you.

Thomas’s expression darkened.

That sounds like a threat.

Then again, knowing the person who had sent it, it probably was.

He looked toward the driver, who was patiently waiting for his answer.

"Fine," Thomas said bluntly. "Take the quickest route possible."

"Of course, sir."

The driver immediately turned the steering wheel, carefully maneuvering the taxi out of the congested lane. After making a quick turn onto a narrower road, he began driving through a less crowded route.

Thomas leaned back in his seat and released a frustrated breath.

As the taxi finally began moving at a decent speed, he glanced down at his phone again.

The screen lit up with another incoming call.

This time, he answered.

"Where are you?" a sharp voice demanded before he could even speak.

Thomas closed his eyes.

"I’m on my way."

"You’ve been saying that for the past thirty minutes."

"Then you should be pleased to know I’m still consistent."

There was a brief silence.

"Thomas."

He straightened immediately at the warning in the person’s voice.

"Fine," he muttered. "I’ll be there soon."

"You’d better."

The call ended.

Thomas stared at his phone, then slowly looked out the window.

"Why do I feel like reaching the venue is only the beginning of my problems?"

The driver said nothing.

But judging by the way he avoided looking at Thomas through the rearview mirror, he seemed to agree.

***

Back at the venue, inside the restroom, Julianna slammed her hand against the counter in frustration.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her beautiful features carefully composed. Yet beneath that polished facade, irritation continued to simmer.

Not only had she been mocked by a little girl earlier, but the man she had hired for today’s task was also running late.

"That drunk bastard," she hissed. "How dare he speak to me like that? I’m paying him, and he still has the nerve to talk back to me."

Her eyes darkened as she gripped the edge of the counter.

After losing the contract with the Pristine Group, Julianna had spent considerable time searching for someone who could help her bring Clara down. Eventually, she had found the perfect candidate—Thomas.

He was desperate, reckless, and, most importantly, in need of money.

After the incident at the boutique, Julianna had become increasingly suspicious of Clara’s sudden change in behavior. The woman who had once been easy to manipulate was no longer as predictable as before.

Since then, Julianna had kept a close watch on her.

One afternoon, she had discovered the girl she had previously hired to work at the boutique being cornered by a man. At first, the scene had appeared to be a confrontation in which the man was trying to intimidate the girl.

But what happened next had stunned Julianna.

The situation had completely reversed.

The girl had turned the tables on the man so efficiently that he had ended up frightened and fleeing the scene.

Julianna had needed only a few minutes to gather information about the man and his connection to the girl. That was when she decided to make her move.

Thomas was the kind of person she could use.

She knew better than to trust him completely. He was unreliable, short-tempered, and far too fond of alcohol. But a man desperate for money—and desperate to keep his already miserable life from falling apart—could be pushed to do almost anything.

And Julianna intended to use that desperation to her advantage.

However, despite her confidence in her carefully arranged plan, she was beginning to worry.

Thomas was late. Very late.

She glanced at her phone again, her jaw tightening.

"He’d better show up," she muttered. "Otherwise, I’ll make sure his life becomes a living hell."

She knew Thomas would not dare abandon the arrangement completely. He needed the money, and she had made certain he understood what would happen if he failed her.

Still, his delay was infuriating.

Julianna took a deep breath, smoothed the front of her dress, and checked her reflection one final time. The anger in her eyes was quickly hidden behind a pleasant expression.

She could not afford to lose control in front of the guests.

Not tonight.

After adjusting her hair, Julianna picked up her phone and walked out of the restroom, returning to the venue with a composed smile.

But beneath that smile, her thoughts remained sharp and vicious.

Thomas had better arrive soon. Otherwise, I’ll personally make him regret ever crossing me.

***

Meanwhile, back at the venue, Dominic was still surrounded by women. Despite his cold, distant expression, they continued trying to catch his attention.

However, Dominic’s focus remained on Clara’s last text. She had suddenly stopped replying, and his brows furrowed as he stared at his phone. Just as he was about to send her another message, Grace’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Ladies, could you spare my son for a moment?" Grace asked, stepping closer with a pleasant smile. "You know, eyeing a married man is illegal."

The women surrounding Dominic exchanged concerned glances.

"I thought that was just a rumor his family spread to stop us from approaching him," one woman whispered.

"Right? I always thought Dominic was simply impossible to impress. He never even gives women a second glance, no matter how much makeup they wear. But now that his mother has mentioned his marriage, I’m starting to wonder if the rumors are true," another woman murmured.

"Mrs. Sterling, you just confirmed that Dominic is married, but where is his wife?" Linda, one of the women Grace had once tried to set Dominic up with, asked curiously. "I don’t see her anywhere near him."

Grace’s smile widened, though her eyes held a hint of amusement.

"Why would she need to stand beside him every second of the evening?" she replied. "They’re married, not conjoined twins."

A few women awkwardly laughed, while Dominic glanced at his mother with a faintly displeased expression.

"Mom," he said coolly, "you’re making unnecessary comments."

Grace turned toward him innocently. "What? I’m simply helping you avoid trouble. Your wife might be watching."

At that, Dominic’s expression softened for a brief moment, and his eyes instinctively swept across the venue in search of Clara.

Linda noticed the change and raised a brow.

"So, she really is here tonight?" she asked.

"Of course she is," Grace replied. "Though she seems to be busy with something important."

"Is she also from a wealthy family?" another woman asked, clearly intrigued.

Grace smiled knowingly. "Her background doesn’t matter. What matters is that my son chose her."

The women fell silent, exchanging curious looks.

Dominic, however, had already stopped listening. His attention returned to his phone as he typed a message to Clara.

Dominic:What happened?

A second later, he added another message.

Dominic:And why did you stop replying?

Grace glanced at his screen and smirked.

"Ah, there she is," she teased. "Your wife has finally reclaimed your attention."

Dominic gave her a flat look.

"She never lost it."

Grace’s smile grew wider.

The women around them stared in surprise, while Dominic continued texting as if he hadn’t just revealed far more than he intended.

Just when Dominic thought his mother was finally done embarrassing him, Clara’s reply appeared on his phone.

Clara:Husband, if you don’t want to sleep in the study tonight, get out of there.

Dominic stared at the message.

"..."

For a moment, he wondered whether Clara had somehow heard his mother’s entire conversation.

Grace noticed his sudden silence and leaned closer. "What is it? Did your wife finally respond?"

Dominic quickly locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket.

"Nothing."

Grace narrowed her eyes. "That expression says otherwise."

Everyone: "???"