Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young) novel Chapter 269

Chapter 269 A Hair–Trigger Moment 

Why were reporters here? 

Charlie handed me a bouquet, and the scent of flowers I had not smelled in ages lifted spirits. I had always loved flowers. Teir fragrance always made me happy. 

my 

The fact that I could not remember ever sharing my love for flowers with anyone puzzled me. Without overthinking it, I faced Charlie and asked, “Mr. Yates, what are you doing here?” Charlie, oblivious to anyone else, gave me a grin that could light up the room, “I’m here to pick you up and take you out for a treat.” 

I could not help but sneak a peek at Idris, who was standing off to the side, his expression stormy with obvious annoyance. 

A headache was starting to brew. Had these two planned this? 

With reporters snapping photos outside, and my ex–husband and…. 

Charlie’s actions were bound to stir up rumors, especially among the wildly imaginative netizens. 

Facing Charlie, I managed a strained smile, “Thanks for the flowers, Mr. Yates. I…” 

“Let’s get going. I’ve got dessert waiting for you. You’ve been in there so long, you must be dying for something sweet,” Charlie cut me off before I could finish, his perfect face paired with a smile so charming I was lost in it for a second. 

It was not until he took my hand and began to lead me away that I realized what was happening. As we walked past Idris, he grabbed my other wrist, jolting me back to the present, stuck in place. 

I stood my ground, and Charlie glanced back at me. His eyes soon shifted to Idris, narrowing slightly. “Something else, Mr. Young?” he asked with a hint of challenge. 

Idris, who had been silent until now, was the epitome of calm indifference. His good looks were marred only by the faintest trace of annoyance as he faced Charlie. “Where are you planning to take my wife?” he asked coolly. 

Charlie’s eyebrows shot up, and a smirk played on his lips. “Wife? You’re kidding, right, Mr. Young? The whole world knows about your divorce from Ms. Scott. It was all over the news. Surely, that’s still fresh in everyone’s minds.” 

Idris’s frown deepened. However, he kept his cool. “That’s none of your business.” 

Charlie was the type to push his luck. He stared down Idris, unafraid. “What’s the matter? Did Ms. Scott leave you on her own? Or…” He paused dramatically before delivering his punchline. ‘Or did the Youngs throw her to the wolves when trouble came knocking, afraid she would Irag you down? But now that the coast is clear, you suddenly remember she is your wife?” He let out a snide chuckle, “The Youngs sure know how to play the game, do not they?” 

lis biting words hung in the air, not loud but in the quiet expanse of the police station ntrance, they might as well have been shouted. The reporters, hungry for a scoop that would et social media on fire, hung on every word. 

heavy with unspoken threats. 

Two years into our marriage, I had learned the hard truth: Idris was not exactly Mr. Nice Guy. Sure, he could play the part of the refined gentleman, all poise and grace. However, that did not mean he did not have a scary side hidden beneath the surface. 

Nobody was perfect, right? 

My heart raced as I watched Idris lock eyes with Charlie, who was smirking like he owned the place. If these two went at it here and now, we would be the talk of the town–and not in a good way. 

I tried to intervene, “Mr. Yates…” but Idris’s voice cut through the tension, “Officer Jackson!” It was deep, controlled, and impossible to read. I stopped mid–sentence, puzzled, turning to Idris. 

Despite his shock, Officer Jackson managed to get out a shaky, “Mr. Young.” 

Idris was a statue, not a flicker of rage on his face. “Get her a chair and a glass of water. Do not let her get tired standing,” he ordered, as if we were discussing the weather. 

Jackson was clearly lost but nodded and relayed the orders. I was baffled–why the sudden. need for a chair? Then Idris gave me a soft look and said, “Just watch quietly for a bit. It won’t take long, and then we can head home.” 

As he spoke, he began to peel off his coat, his gaze icy as it swept over to Charlie. 

Charlie’s frown lasted only a second before he got the message and chuckled darkly, shrugging off his own coat. 

Even I could not miss the signal now. A showdown was coming. 

Before I could even get a word out to stop them, Idris’s hand shot up, and his fist connected with Charlie’s right eye like a guided missile. Charlie tried to dodge, but he was not fast enough, and the punch hit him hard on the cheekbone. 

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