The Runaway Groom novel Chapter 7

"Ms. Spencer? I'm Mr. Jefferson's assistant. Come with me—he's waiting for you."

Irene spaced out for a moment when she saw Stan, though she quickly looked away to hide the look of recognition on her face.

Stan was the one who opened the door when she treated that patient in Zachary's stead.

If Stan was Isaac's assistant, did that mean the patient was Isaac?

"Please, Ms. Spencer." Stan's tone became sterner when he saw that she was not moving.

Putting away her thoughts, Irene replied, "I have to go to work."

It was a clear refusal—she had no intention of meeting that man.

"Please think about this carefully, Ms. Spencer. Given your status, you would not just lose your job if you make Mr. Jefferson upset—you would have no chance of working as a doctor again."

It was a clear threat, and Irene was left clenching her fist.

All her father did was offer to pay for the cost of her mother's surgery. She had to pay for all other medical bills, so she certainly could not lose her job or career chances.

Her only option was to go with Stan.

"Wait a moment. I need to apply for leave from the hospital."

-

After heading upstairs and making the call, Irene took a scalpel out of her drawer and put it in her handbag as a precaution. Then, she headed downstairs after tidying her up.

Soon, she was brought to a nightclub—she had never been to such places where men and women were getting frisky everywhere.

As they headed further inside, Irene overheard a couple of women chatting in the corner.

"Did you hear? The man having a business discussion with Isaac Jefferson on the VIP floor is a real pervert and a sicko."

"Wasn't he the one who almost killed an escort?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Tut, tut. I wonder who is going to be so unlucky this time, but it's fine as long as it's not us. Did you know? Word is that the escort can no longer bear children although she survived—heaven knows what he did to her."

Irene felt the creeps from their words alone, especially when she heard Isaac's name in their conversation.

She started to panic, her palm sweating as they headed into an elevator.

Seeing that her face was pale, Stan kindly reminded her, "You know how you forced Mr. Jefferson to marry you. Just sign the divorce papers, and you will be spared."

It was true that the proposal by her family could not be rejected since the Jeffersons did owe them, but the whole matter hinged on Irene being willing to take on the marriage.

Nonetheless, Irene turned toward Stan, quivering just then—she would not have bothered marrying Isaac if she had grounds to refuse, let alone allow Isaac to humiliate her like this!

Taking a deep breath, she strode out of the elevator.

Stand frowned but said nothing as he led her to a luxury private room. Beneath the dimly lit room, Irene quickly saw Isaac and another man sitting on the couch.

"Oh!" the man exclaimed—she caught his eye the instant she entered, and he studied her from head to toe without a care before giving his critique. "Not bad! Her skin is fair like a porcelain doll, and that slim waist… she must feel soft in your arms."

Beckoning, he said, "Come, sit beside me."

Irene glanced at Isaac, who was still leaning on his set, his legs folded elegantly and his face hidden in the darkness.

She could not see his expression at all.

On the other hand, the other man had stood up and put a hand on her shoulder, laughing as he asked Isaac, "Where did you find her? She looks much nicer than those escorts caking their faces with mascara. That clear, fresh look suits me better."

Isaac remained silent and did not stop him.

Was that a silent approval?

Irene felt a chill in her heart, and her fingers clenched over her handbag.

"Do you drink?" the man asked, already putting a hand on her waist.

Utterly repulsed, she moved away. "No."