The Night My Ex Lost A Billionaire!

…Young Master?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Charlotte’s spine cracked against the wall.

Jensen heard the impact before he heard her voice.

“Ah!”

She cried out.

Worried about Charlotte, Jensen had followed her outside, claiming he was going for a bathroom break.

But now, a thick-necked man with a gangster’s build was brooding over her, his massive hand pinning her shoulder to the concrete.

“Stop fighting it!”

the man growled, his breath rancid, and mouth just a few inches from her ear.

“Everyone knows what you really are under that ice-queen act. Just fuck me, and I’ll make sure nobody ever lays a hand on you again.” Then he smirked.

“Except me, whenever I want.”

Charlotte pushed and fought, but the man was too strong.

“Get off me!” Her voice cracked, fury and terror tangled together.

The man grabbed her even tighter. She whimpers under his touch, adrenaline and fear surging through her body like a drug.

“Scream all you want.” He laughed. “Nobody’s coming for a filthy girl like you.”

He ran his hand through her hair, taking in a big sniff that made her gag.

“Ahhh… yes… smells just like a bitch. I bet that pussy smells nice too.” He smiled.

“Let me taste it!” He snapped and grabbed her skirt. But before he could rip it, Jensen’s voice cut through the air.

“Hey! She’s needed back in. Now!”

“Fuck off or I’ll break your nose–“

The man froze as his neck turned around. His heart skipped a beat, taking in Jensen’s form.

“It’s… you…” he whispered.

Charlotte frowned. Her eyes darted from the man to Jensen.

Recognition hit the man like a fist.

“Y-young master-” He let go of Charlotte so fast she nearly fell.

His body folded into a bow so deep his forehead nearly cracked against his own knees.

A dark wet stain spread down his trousers.

This wasn’t some random brat.

This was the one from that night outside the club: the one who’d turned Benjamin’s car into scrap and put half a dozen grown men on the pavement without breaking stride.

Jensen recognized him in the same breath: one of Benjamin’s hired thugs from that exact night.

The change was instant.

One second, he was a leering predator with his hand around a woman’s wrist. The next, he looked like he’d seen a ghost walk through the wall.

“I didn’t know. I swear to God I didn’t know it was you—”

Then his own open palm cracked across his face.

Charlotte gasped.

Again. Harder. Again.

He slapped himself. Just as Benjamin did.

Each strike landed louder than the last.

His cheek split, blood sprayed thin and bright across his knuckles.

“Please, young master. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Jensen didn’t say another word.

He took Charlotte’s arm and walked past the man like he wasn’t even there.

Like the sound of a grown man destroying his own face on the floor was nothing more than show.

Charlotte didn’t speak the entire back. She just stared at him. Whatever story she’d known about the quiet, broke classmate everyone laughed at, it had just been torn to shreds, with no replacement offered.

“What was that?” Jensen asked once they left the corridor.

Her mask snapped back into place.

“No one. Forget it.”

She didn’t elaborate. Jensen let it die.

The private room had gone quiet by the time they returned, conversations dying mid-sentence as heads turned toward Jensen.

He took his seat, and the classmates on either side of him shifted away in unison, exaggerated and obvious, like he carried something contagious.

One girl made a show of approaching the empty seat beside him, pretending to sit, but then gasped, recoiled, and dramatically swapped places with someone else, hand pressed to her chest like she’d narrowly avoided catastrophe.

The room erupted in laughter.

“Fucking dog shit.” Matthew mumbled and laughed.

He had saved the seat directly beside himself, expecting Charlotte to slide in next to him the moment she returned.

He even gestured to it, smiling, certain of his win.

But Charlotte walked past him without a glance and sat down beside Jensen instead.

The entire room fell silent.

“We’re all classmates,” she said simply, not looking at anyone in particular. “It doesn’t matter where I sit.”

Matthew’s smile cracked at the edges. Refusing to lose in front of an audience, he dragged his own chair around and forced himself into the seat on her other side.

Something warm moved through Jensen at the gesture, even as he understood exactly what it was… and wasn’t.

Charlotte hadn’t chosen him out of feeling. She’d chosen a side.

It was against Matthew for now.

“You offered to buy drinks earlier, didn’t you, Jensen?” Matthew’s smile turned sharp.

“Go on. Pick the wine. Let’s see what taste a broke loser actually has.” He laughed.

The others joined him, all except Coleman and Charlotte.

“Just leave him alone, Matthew.” Charlotte replied to him.

She didn’t want Jensen humiliated after he just saved her.

But Matthew scoffed. “He was boasting earlier about the drinks. Let him buy them. Or leave this dinner!”

Matthew declared.

“You can’t do that. Jensen is just like any other classmate here,” Coleman quickly jumped in.

Matthew scoffed. “This loser is nothing like us. So, what’s it gonna be, Jensen?”

Matthew smiled, certain he had won. With Jensen gone, he’d take Charlotte back.

But Jensen set his glass down slowly, holding Matthew’s stare with the kind of calm that should have scared him.

“With pleasure,” he said.

Then he lifted two fingers toward the waiter and didn’t blink.

“A bottle of Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon. The ’92, if you have it.”

A hush spread through the hall.

The waiter’s pen froze mid-air.