Fated Marriage Spoiled by My Ice Billionaire novel Chapter 62

After a few quick words to Eleanor's boyfriend, Isabelle finally stepped away, feeling relieved.

She made her way unsteadily to the restroom. She didn't throw up, but the imported whiskey she'd been drinking was hitting her harder than beer ever did.

While she was drinking, it hadn't felt like much, but now the dizziness was settling in fast.

Letting out a long breath, she remembered the time she'd accidentally gotten into the wrong car. She quickly opened a ride-share app and booked a pickup.

Then, swaying slightly, she walked out of the restroom.

"Ms. Foster, careful there!" Oliver stepped forward to meet her.

Isabelle instinctively took a step back. Her mind was still fairly clear—she wasn't so drunk she couldn't stand.

But his large, heavy hand had already landed on the curve of her waist.

"Oliver, I'm fine," Isabelle said, pushing his hand away.

Oliver let go slowly but didn't step back.

"Of course, of course. Let me give you a ride home. Magnolia Gardens isn't far from my place anyway," Oliver said, his tone presumptuous. The fact that he knew her old address sent a chill down her spine.

"That won't be necessary. I already asked my husband to pick me up," she replied evenly, tightening her grip on her bag and trying to walk steadily out of the restroom alcove.

"Ms. Foster, you don't have to be so cold. I heard you just got out of a relationship," Oliver said, then moved in again to take her arm.

"Let go of me," Isabelle said firmly, stopping in her tracks, her gaze icy on the pudgy hand gripping her forearm.

Seeing she wasn't playing along, Oliver glanced around. His breath reeked of alcohol as he leaned closer. "I could make it worth your while. Twenty thousand a month."

Isabelle smirked and drove her knee hard into his stomach.

"Oof!" Oliver doubled over, clutching his midsection as he dropped to his knees.

The scene was witnessed by Jenny, who looked stunned. "Ms. Foster, I didn't see anything."

"Doesn't matter."

Isabelle looked at her arm with disgust, turned back into the restroom, and scrubbed her hands with soap.

Jenny didn't leave—Oliver was back on his feet now, glaring furiously at Isabelle.

Seeing his expression in the mirror, Isabelle knew exactly what it meant.

She handed her bag to Jenny. "Hold this for me, would you? Don't let it get dirty."

"Okay," Jenny replied, her twenty-year-old hands trembling slightly as she took it.

Isabelle turned, clenched her fists, and braced herself.

With Jenny standing there, Oliver seemed too embarrassed to make another move.

Just as he was about to leave, the voices of Justin and Ashley carried over from the hallway near the restrooms.

Isabelle wiped the corner of her mouth with her fingertip, smearing her lipstick from her lips down toward her neck. As she walked out, she tugged the one-shoulder neckline of her dress slightly askew.

She ruffled her hair, let one heel slip off on purpose, and using her drunkenness as cover, stumbled into Ashley, who was walking beside Justin.

Both Ashley and Justin froze. Isabelle's eyes were glistening, her face a picture of hurt.

None of the three spoke.

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