The Jilted Heiress' Return to the High Life - Chapter 450

Chapter 450:

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“Become mine, Miss Holland, and you’ll want for nothing.”

Before his fingers could make contact, a hand shot out to capture his wrist in an iron grip.

The force was so intense that Rolf thought his wrist might snap in half. A sharp jolt of pain cut through the alcohol-induced haze clouding his mind, clearing it in an instant. He winced, his teeth gritted as he glared at Nate. Fury burned in his blood, and he spat out a curse.

“Who the hell are you? How dare you lay a hand on me? Are you looking for trouble?”

Seeing Nate, the coldness in Corrine’s eyes instantly vanished, a slow smile curling her lips.

“What are you doing here?”

Nate’s gaze remained locked on Rolf.

“Came to protect my girlfriend from a pervert,” he said flatly before shoving Rolf aside with enough force to send him stumbling backward.

Corrine let out a soft chuckle.

“So, my boyfriend arrived just in time.”

Rolf hit the floor hard, humiliation surging through him like wildfire. He shot to his feet, his face twisted with rage. Yanking up his sleeves, he stormed toward Nate.

“I am going to teach you a lesson you will never forget!”

Before he could finish his threat, Nate moved like lightning. His leg shot out, and with a brutal kick, he sent Rolf sprawling once more.

𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 @ 𝓰ⱥ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⸳𝓬𝓸𝓶

A heavy silence blanketed the banquet hall as Nate loomed over him, his presence an unshakable force. His chiseled features were cast in shadow, his expression a mask of cold fury.

“You?” Nate’s voice was low, laced with deadly calm.

“You think you can teach me a lesson?”

The air grew thick, suffocating. No one dared to breathe too loudly.

The commotion had drawn attention. Calan rushed over, his sharp eyes scanning the room until they landed on Rolf crumpled on the floor. The color drained from his face.

Rolf saw him and, despite his bruised pride, felt a surge of hope. He coughed, straightening slightly as he turned toward Calan with a scowl.

“Calan, you are just in time. Help me deal with this insolent fool—”

“Mr. Hopkins…” Calan’s voice was strained as he spoke, his gaze shifting to Nate.

At the sound of his name, Nate slowly lifted his head. His eyes, cold and indifferent, settled on Calan.

“Calan, what do you think should be done about this?”

His words were measured, deliberate—like the slow scrape of a blade against stone. The tension in the room thickened, a chill creeping into every corner.

A bead of sweat formed at Calan’s temple. He understood immediately—Nate was standing up for Corrine. That alone sent a wave of unease through him. How had Corrine secured a connection with someone like Nate Hopkins? And he seemed serious about her.

Rolf, finally sobering from both the alcohol and his reckless arrogance, felt a fresh wave of dread coil in his stomach. His jaw clenched as he turned toward Corrine. Swallowing his pride, he muttered, “Miss Holland, I did not realize you were with Mr. Hopkins earlier. I sincerely apologize for my actions.”

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