Chapter 3

Channing's POV

"Keep it for yourself," I said.

I didn't want to argue with a petty man who had suddenly risen to power. Unfortunately, such men were the most shameless. Keaton just had to rub salt in the wound.

"Oh, you don't like champagne? Then how about bow ties and corsages? I can prepare some for you. You can take them home and put them on your whole family even when you're not having a wedding…"

Insulting me was one thing, but he had even insulted my parents.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I punched Keaton in the face, sending him stumbling backward and falling to the ground.

"Mr. Joplin!"

"Mr. Joplin, are you okay?"

My coworkers swarmed over, scrambling to help Keaton back to his feet.

My punch had left Keaton with a bloody nose. He wiped the blood away with his hand and sneered viciously at me through gritted teeth.

Keaton barked, "You bastard! How dare you hit me? Get him! Beat him up! Whoever hits him the hardest gets double their year-end bonus!"

With enough money on the line, there was no shortage of brave men. Plus, they were eager to suck up to the boss' new favorite.

Three or four male coworkers immediately rushed over and knocked me to the ground. They pinned me down as they kicked and punched me.

My glasses shattered, and the skin around my eye split open. Blood streamed down my face.

Breathing heavily, Keaton grabbed that bottle of champagne and smashed it hard against my head.

The glass shattered following a loud crack. My vision went black, and I passed out.

A second before I lost consciousness, I seemed to hear Bridget's heart-wrenching scream. "Channing!"

When I opened my eyes again, I was already lying in a hospital bed.

"You're awake, Channing."

Bridget had been sitting by my bedside the whole time. She hurriedly grabbed my hand.

"Does your head still hurt?" she asked.

It had been a long time since she had treated me so gently—not since Keaton appeared.

Keaton joined the company as an intern three months earlier. He used to be a competitive gymnast in college, so he was tall and muscular.

Around that time, Bridget wanted to work out and get in shape, so she made Keaton her assistant and personal trainer. She said he was much better than the regular trainers in the normal gyms who only knew how to pressure people into buying memberships.

At first, I didn't pay much attention to it.

But gradually, the two of them started behaving more and more inappropriately with each other. Their relationship became more and more intimate, while Bridget's attitude toward me became increasingly perfunctory and cold.

I began to sense danger.

But every time I urged her to keep her distance from Keaton, she accused me of being overly suspicious and jealous. She insisted that there was nothing going on between them.

I was just about to speak when Bridget's concerned tone suddenly turned accusatory.

She chided, "You've gone too far! How could you hurt yourself just to frame Keaton? Everyone at the company said you were the one who provoked him. He kept trying to de-escalate the situation. But then, you went and smashed your own head with the champagne!

"You're not a child anymore. Can't you act more mature? I already told you that the divorce would take at least a month. Can't you stop pressuring me like this? Keaton is just a naive young man. You scared him so badly that he even cried.

"When you see him, you'd better apologize. You're about seven or eight years older than him. Act more like your age. You should be like an older brother to him."

Bridget spoke as though she knew everything about the situation. She pushed all the blame onto me.

I was already too tired to explain myself.

Since I was leaving anyway, it didn't matter to me even if she got everything wrong and blamed me unfairly.

I simply said, "I'm tired."

"Okay. I'll just stay here with you a little longer—"

Before she could finish, her phone rang.

She accepted the call and exclaimed, "What? You hit someone with your car? Are you hurt? Don't cry… Don't be scared… I'll be there for you!"

After hanging up, she hurriedly left.

A couple of years ago, I had given her a car for her birthday. Now, it had become Keaton's flashy ride that he drove around to show off.

Over the next few days, Bridget never came back. All she did was hire a caregiver to look after me. She had also deliberately blocked me so I couldn't see her social media posts.

But every day, the company group chat was practically a live broadcast of Bridget and Keaton's romantic honeymoon abroad. They went shopping, browsed stores, and lounged on the beach together.

Keaton even helped apply sunscreen to the bikini-clad Bridget. His movements were suggestive enough to make anyone blush.

Half a month later, I was finally discharged from the hospital.

I took a cab home alone. As soon as I walked through the door, I saw Bridget happily sorting through the things she had bought during her trip abroad.