My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage - Chapter 131

Chapter 131:

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“If she’s sharp enough to write those brilliant scripts, she’s sharp enough to handle this too. Let her do her thing.”

Carrie waited until their figures disappeared around the corner before turning back to Kristopher. Her expression was firm, and her words measured. “Don’t drag Asher into this. If you let it go, I’ll accompany you to your grandmother’s birthday party.”

Kristopher arched an eyebrow, his tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. “Since when did you decide to moonlight as an agent? Cleaning up messes for a young man like him.”

Carrie didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she met his sarcasm with unwavering resolve. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He let out a breath, his irritation giving way to reluctant acquiescence. “Fine. As if I’d waste my time on a youngster who barely knows how the world works.” His gaze drifted to her shoulder, where the red mark from Asher’s punch was still visible. His voice softened slightly. “Let me take you to a doctor.”

Carrie opened her mouth, instinctively ready to refuse, but something in Kristopher’s expression gave her pause. If she argued, she knew he might redirect his simmering annoyance back toward Asher. Swallowing her pride, she nodded. “Fine, let me grab my bag.”

Kristopher gave a single nod. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

In front of The Northern Kitchen, Carrie navigated her way to the passenger side while Oliver had already exited and graciously opened the rear door for her. Propped against the car, one hand resting on its polished surface and the other gripping his phone, Oliver gave a firm directive to someone on the other end of the line. “Grab the doctors and come straight to Bayview Villa.” A trace of bewilderment shimmered in Carrie’s gaze—was Kristopher really insistent on calling in a family doctor? It was hardly more than a minor abrasion. Certainly, a dab of ointment and a little downtime would be enough.

Her indifference to where she received care was overshadowed by a more pressing worry—that Kristopher would vent his anger on Asher. To her, adhering to his demands was nothing more than a mere courtesy. Without raising any questions, Carrie silently slid into the backseat.

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Next to her, Kristopher was engrossed in a virtual meeting on his laptop. The usual serenity he embodied was now overtaken by a deep concentration, the light from the screen throwing sharp contrasts over his well-defined features. He emanated the presence of a natural-born leader, effortlessly commanding respect. This was a man who inevitably captivated attention wherever he went.

Carrie diverted her gaze and sank further into her seat, just as Kristopher snapped his laptop shut and unexpectedly reached out to straighten her clothing. Startled, she drew back sharply. Her loose, off-shoulder sweater, caught between his pull and her withdrawal, slid down, revealing her chest to him. His fingers clenched the sweater, his eyes lingering on her exposed chest before moving to the warm blush coloring her shoulder.

Her eyes, rimmed with a faint red, echoed the fragility of a deer caught in headlights, seemingly wanting to escape yet too afraid to do so. It almost seemed as if he was a villain.

He gently released his grip, and she quickly adjusted her sweater, straightening up. “I’m fine,” she asserted, her voice barely a whisper.

“In the future, choose your attire more carefully,” he advised sharply, returning his attention to the laptop before him.

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