?Chapter 819:


    She waited for his reply, knowing his team was preupied. She had tampered with their water, ensuring they would not stay by Ethan’s side, possibly even needing medical attention. She was confident he would ept her feigned concern.


    Ethan nced at his phone, still awaiting Neville. A minute ticked by, and Neville still hadn’t appeared.


    Growing concerned, Ethan started toward the restroom, his gait unsteady.


    Tina stepped into his path. “Mr. Mitchell, are you alright? You don’t look steady. Let me get you home.”


    Though Ethan had drunk heavily, he was far from incapacitated. He recognized Tina’s intentions—she wasn’t the first to try such tactics. With a rough shove, he snapped, “Get lost!”


    Tina swallowed her irritation but persisted. “You’re stumbling like this; you clearly need someone to look after you. Don’t be so stubborn. You’ve always been kind to my brother, so why don’t you let me take care of you now? I’m just trying to help.”


    As she tugged at him, Ethan staggered, nearly losing his bnce. Tina seized the moment, slipping her arms around his waist, the warm notes of his cologne enveloping her, making her reluctant to release him.


    “Let go!” Ethan growled, exasperated, trying to wrench her hands away. To anyone watching, though, they looked like they were embracing. Tina took advantage of the situation, clinging to Ethan and trying to kiss him on the face.


    Despite the alcohol’s haze, Ethan’s mind remained sharp. He jerked his head aside, dodging her advance, and barked, “Have you no shame?”


    Tina clung tighter, saying, “Even when you’re drunk, you’re still so strong. What’s wrong with me holding you? I’m not even upset that you’reing onto me, and you’re pushing me away?”


    From the shadows, a man in a suit stealthily captured several photos. Though the alcohol slowed Ethan’s reflexes and sapped some of his strength, he was still far stronger than Tina. It didn’t take long for him to push her away, shouting, “Get lost!”


    Tina nced toward the suited man lurking at the entrance of another room, who shed an “OK” signal. Satisfied, she decided to give up on further pestering Ethan.


    She said, “I was only trying to help. You’re clearly drunk, and your people aren’t even around. But if you’re going to be ungrateful, fine. Don’t me me if you trip and hurt yourselfter.”


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    She smoothed her outfit and strode toward the elevator. The suited man slipped in behind her, showing her the photos he had taken. She grinned, impressed. “No wonder you’re an entertainment reporter. Your angles are brilliant—it really looks like Ethan was holding me.”


    Several minutes passed before Neville finally showed up, looking like he was in serious distress. Clutching his stomach with a grimace, he muttered, “I’m sorry, Mr. Mitchell. I feel awful. I really can’t drive right now. I’ve got to get to the restroom again.”


    Whatever was bothering him clearly wasn’t letting up. His face twisted in pain before he bolted back toward the restroom. Before going inside, he called out to Ethan, “I’ve already called a designated driver for you. You can leave on your own.”


    Ethan hovered near the doorway, his brow furrowed with suspicion. Something about this didn’t sit right. Neville might have been set up. A few bodyguards rushed out momentster, gave Ethan a rushed exnation, and then returned to the restroom.


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