Even if Jagger didn’t like Charlene, the baby she carried was still his firstborn.

The Sulzbergers was powerful and wealthy. To marry Jagger, Charlene had given up everything and moved to Lancaster.

And after the divorce, he would definitely fight her for custody.

That’s why, the moment she decided to leave him, she also began rebuilding her company—she needed to secure a future for her baby.

With top actor Crosby Clooney agreeing to endorse her new product line, the buzz skyrocketed overnight.

She wanted this launch to be her big comeback in Lancaster. So the next morning, she headed straight to the office and called Crosby, telling him to come to Lancaster for the promo shoot—no delays.

To show proper respect to someone of his international status, she spared no expense and booked the best restaurant in the city.

When Crosby landed, he took one look around and nodded. “Nice. You went all out.”

“Of course.” Charlene smiled. “You don’t skimp when you’ve got a money tree like this.”

Because of some delays at the airport, by the time they arrived, many of the diners were already leaving.

That suited Charlene just fine—at least no one was pointing fingers or whispering about her for once.

At the front desk, she gave her name to confirm the reservation.

The moment she said it, several staff looked up at her with strange expressions—curious, almost judgmental.

Charlene noticed immediately. Her brows furrowed, and she asked flatly, “What?”

“Ah—nothing, ma’am. We’ll take you to your room right away.”

But even as the staff spoke, her eyes kept flicking toward Crosby.

To stay under the radar—and keep the product launch mysterious—Crosby wore a black cap, a mask, and a simple tracksuit. But even dressed down, his commanding presence was unmistakable.

Even when the server tried to maintain her professionalism and led them down the hall, Charlene couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

She was still puzzled over the staff’s strange attitude when suddenly, Crosby, hands in his pockets, glanced at the server and let out a cold laugh.

“You called me and said you were finally leaving Jagger. Tell me—are you really the one leaving him, or did he dump you first?”

Charlene blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Crosby scoffed. “Your beloved husband—Lancaster’s big-shot womanizer—loves putting on the perfect-couple act with you. So how come today, the staff are acting like… they’re not buying it?”

Charlene suddenly understood what he meant. But she didn’t want to hear it. Her heart resisted.

To protect what little pride she had left in front of her friend, she glanced at him and tried to shift the conversation. She jabbed back, “Maybe they’re curious why someone dressed like you is eating at a place like this.”

He smirked. “Sure. But your husband’s probably even more noticeable than me. Right?”

He nodded subtly, his chin pointing to a direction. Charlene followed it.

“The food still tastes just like before,” came a soft female voice. She wore simple jeans and a pale yellow sweater, a camel coat draped casually on her arm. Her face tilted slightly, smiling as she looked at the man stepping out of the private room.

“Mmm,” he replied, his voice low and indifferent. “The new dishes are decent too.”

That voice.

That familiar, restrained tone—it haunted her.

‘Just like before? Missed it for a long time?’

The man walked beside the woman, dressed in simple black. An extra coat rested on his arm, and on his other hand, he held her handbag.

When she finished putting on her coat, he handed the purse to her without a word.

“Thanks,” she said, tilting her head up at him with a smile.

He gave a faint smile back. That face, always so cold and unreadable, softened—just barely.

And it was unbearable.

At that moment, all the years Charlene had spent clinging to him, fooling herself—it all crumbled.

She had been numb for so long, trying not to feel, trying not to care. But now… Jagger found yet another way to drive a knife into her where it hurt most.

That faint smile on his lips—it felt like a sledgehammer to her chest. It made her vision darken, her knees weak.

As she stumbled, she instinctively grabbed Crosby’s arm, fingers clutching so tightly they went white.

Jagger’s gaze snapped up, the smile vanishing in an instant.

And in that instant, Charlene saw it—that sudden shift, like a sun-soaked summer crashing into a dead winter.

There was nothing in his eyes for her. Just coldness.

The difference was shattering.

Feeling the pressure on his arm, Crosby frowned and asked in a low voice, “Are you okay?”

The woman beside Jagger also turned and, seeing them, she froze for a second. Her eyes swept over Crosby before landing on Charlene.

She stepped forward, flashing a perfect smile.

“Charlene. Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it has been,” Charlene replied with a calm smile of her own. Composed. Untouchable.

She gave Crystal a polite nod, and then she turned to Crosby. “Let’s go.”

She walked forward, straight past the two old lovers.

The server who had been leading them stood frozen, caught in awkward silence.

Now Charlene finally understood why the staff had looked at her like that.

Of course. That was why.

The luxury restaurant had a wide corridor. There was plenty of space to walk. Plenty of distance between four people.

But no one expected Jagger to suddenly reach out and grab Charlene’s arm.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice low and furious.

She looked at him, half-laughing. “It’s a restaurant, Mr. Sulzberger.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t forget who you are.”

Charlene jerked her head up, fury flashing in her eyes.

“Is this place so sacred I’m not allowed in? Or is it that someone like me just doesn’t qualify anymore?”

His eyes narrowed further, and she yanked her arm free.

“Crystal is still waiting for you. Don’t make her look foolish.”

Foolish. Right.

It was a show everyone watched—Jagger was caught between two women.

One, his pregnant wife. The other, the woman everyone knew, was his long-time obsession.

Charlene turned away, grabbing Crosby as she left.

As they passed Jagger, Crosby offered him a brief, amused glance.

“Congratulations.”

Two light words.

But they landed like a stone in Jagger’s ears—and Charlene heard them too.

She didn’t know what game Crosby was playing.

But somehow, it felt damn good.

As soon as they walked into the private room and sat down, Crosby didn’t bother with any pleasantries.

Without even glancing at the menu, he told the server, “One of each of your signature dishes. And whatever new items you’ve launched lately—bring those too.”

The server had barely turned to leave when Crosby added casually, “Make them light. She’s pregnant.”

The waiter glanced at Charlene, gave a polite smile, and said, “Of course, Mr. Clooney.”

Once the server left, Crosby crossed his legs and rocked his foot lazily.

“Want a drink?” he asked.

Charlene rolled her eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with Crosby?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just trying to drown some heartbreak.”

She paused mid-sip, then chuckled softly. “Where exactly do you see the heartbreak on me?”

Without a word, Crosby rolled up his sleeve and showed her the red marks from earlier.

The sight of him doing that broke through her stiff facade—her expression softened for the first time since they met today.

“You think I can still numb myself with alcohol like I did in my early twenties?”

“Heh,” Crosby let out a soft laugh. “Charlene, don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical? You used a one-night stand pregnancy to tie down a man. Since that moment, you had no dignity left in front of Jagger.”

He leaned forward slightly. “So what’s with the whole ‘I’m the bigger person’ act now? Who are you trying to impress—Jagger? That woman? Or everyone in Lancaster? Do you think any of them care about your so-called grace?”

She couldn’t argue. Because he was right.

No one cared how well she was handling her life. They just wanted the full gossip: how this mess began, how far it would fall, and how humiliating her marriage to Jagger would become.

And yes, she could’ve turned down that arranged marriage like an adult. But she’d chosen to play dumb and go through with it.

In other words, she brought this on herself.

So what exactly was she still trying to protect?

The light smile she’d worn earlier twisted into a bitter one—at herself.

Crosby shook his head and started spinning the carving knife between his fingers.

“At least you’re starting to wake up. That’s something.”

She blinked at him blankly.

He gave her a once-over, scoffing at how the bold, reckless heiress he used to know had turned into this fragile shell.

“Don’t tell me… you still can’t let him go?”

She stared at the spinning blur of the carving knife. After a long pause, she said quietly, “Maybe a little.”

The moment she saw Crystal… Charlene no longer wanted the divorce.

She’d been losing to that woman since college.

Now, after finally winning the title of being Jagger’s wife—the title Crystal always wanted—how could Charlene just give it up?

Crosby raised a brow. “So…?”

“I still want to win.”

He just rolled his eyes. “Putting on a brave face.”

Not long after, the dishes were all served.

Charlene didn’t have much appetite. She only took a few bites of each dish—just enough to be polite as the host.

But Crosby clearly noticed.

“These new dishes are mid at best,” he muttered. “Whose idea of taste is this?”

Charlene looked down at her nearly untouched salad and nodded, “Yeah… pretty average.”

The server nearby heard this and couldn’t tell whether they were criticizing the food—or passive-aggressively towards each other. After all, Crosby’s sarcasm was legendary.

Crosby looked the server dead in the eye and said, “Come here. I’m ordering again.”

The flustered server rushed back with the menu, offering new recommendations.

“There’s nothing but crabs for meat? What about red wine braised beef? She likes that.”

“Sir, this is a high-end restaurant—” the server began, but her voice trailed off under Crosby’s amused stare.

“Oh sure. ‘High-end.’ All these greens on the menu, people might think this place caters exclusively to vegans.”

“We do serve meat, sir. If you look at the front—”

“Oh yeah? You want a pregnant woman eating crudo? Have your chef whip up Burgundy-style beef and stuffed bell peppers. Mexican style.”

“That’s not on the menu, sir.”

“What kind of chef doesn’t know how to make Michelin-star dishes? Just tell them to make it.”

As the server scurried away, Charlene turned to him with mischief in her eyes.

“My baby’s almost due—how are you still scandal-free in that cesspool you call the entertainment industry?”

He looked up lazily. “Haven’t you heard? You’ve always been my rumored leading lady.”

Charlene’s curious face suddenly froze. She couldn’t believe she’d just become the subject of her own gossip.

Okay, fine—she had helped him get some resources back in the day when he was chasing the dream. There were rumors. But she hadn’t paid attention to what came after.

Suddenly remembering something, she covered her mouth. “Wait. Was it back when you blew up and came to my family’s New Year gala?”

“Ugh—” Crosby groaned dramatically, dragging his hand down his face. “No! Way before I blew up. The minute I took that endorsement deal with your family’s brand, a few of my rivals dug into my background and found you. The rumors started then.”

He gave her a long look. “But you were too busy fawning over Jagger to care.”

“Wait—what happened after?” Charlene frowned. She’d always assumed people just didn’t like his attitude. Turns out, it was her family name that made some starlets too scared to compete.

After all, her family had its hands in half the beauty industry, and she was practically born with a silver lipstick in her mouth.

In the industry where brand deals could make or break you, no one was stupid enough to risk their future chasing a man backed by a major investor.

“Explain and it sounds like you’re hiding something. Don’t explain, and people assume it’s true,” Crosby muttered, watching her clueless expression with growing exasperation.

Her jaw dropped. “But I’m married now! That rumor should be dead, right? Please don’t tell me a reporter caught us just now and is cooking up some ‘old flames reignited’ nonsense.”

Crosby gave a bitter smile. “Your husband parades around with his precious first love. You think the paparazzi wouldn't assume you’re both doing your own thing?”

“And don’t forget,” he added, “everyone’s a reporter these days. Didn’t you notice that server calling me ‘Mr. Clooney’ over and over?”

She got his point but tried to reassure herself. “It’s a fancy place. Probably no one would post anything. Hopefully no one recognized you.”

“You mean aside from you, who just mocked me for dressing too low-key?”

Before she could respond, Crosby’s phone started buzzing nonstop.

He glanced at the screen.

“Damn! Check X—apparently I’m trending now. Accused of being someone’s sugar baby just to land roles!”