After Mr. Fletcher left, Jenny didn't bother lingering, either.
She offered Cynthia a quick goodbye, completely ignoring Benedict, and left without a backward glance.
Once Benedict finished exchanging pleasantries with the other business partners, his expression darkened as he made his way over to Cynthia.
Jenny's car rolled past. She waved at Cynthia, signaling her farewell.
Watching Jenny drive off without so much as acknowledging him, Benedict's voice turned icy as he addressed Cynthia.
"Cynthia, you should keep your distance from her."
Cynthia shot him a sidelong glance.
"My friends are none of your concern, Mr. Shepard. Why don't you focus on managing your own social circle?"
With that, she turned on her heel, intent on getting into her car.
But Benedict grabbed her wrist suddenly, gripping her a little too firmly.
"You've had wine. You shouldn't be driving. I'll take you home."
Cynthia looked down at her reddening wrist, then pried his fingers off one by one.
"No, thanks. I'd rather not ride in a car that reeks of other women."
A few of the remaining business partners exchanged awkward glances at her words.
Benedict's face tightened, but he forced a smile, unwilling to lose face in front of the others.
"Cynthia, that's nonsense. My car was just cleaned. There's nothing of the sort."
She gave a cold, mocking laugh.
"Oh? So you scrubbed it spotless, just in case I noticed?"
Benedict fell silent, suddenly guilty, his mind slow from the alcohol.
Cynthia's gaze flicked over him, cool and sharp. Without another word, she slipped into her car and locked the doors.
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