The Invisible Wife Turned Savage novel Chapter 208

208 The Unpleasant Lunch

The way Kevin stretched out her name sent a shiver down Estella’s spine. Each syllable was laced with a false familiarity that made her skin crawl, as if he were mocking intimacy rather than offering it. Victoria, on the other hand, beamed with delight, misreading his tone as genuine warmth directed at her daughter.

Once they stepped outside the sterile hospital walls, Estella was eager to wrap things up quickly. “Mr. Chunk, I really have other things to attend to this afternoon. I can’t stay for lunch,” she said firmly, hoping to end the encounter.

Kevin only seemed more amused by her refusal, as if her resistance only whetted his appetite further. “Estella, I did help your mother, didn’t I? Surely you can’t be that cold toward me,” he teased, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

Though the reminder grated on her nerves, she acknowledged the debt she owed him for his assistance. With visible reluctance, she gave in. “Fine. We’ll eat somewhere nearby. My treat.”

A sly smirk appeared on Kevin’s face. “I’m a bit picky when it comes to food. You can’t just pick any random place. If you’re treating me, it has to be somewhere I actually like.”

Estella pressed her lips into a tight line, her patience thinning. “If it’s too far, I won’t have time.”

“Don’t worry,” he said smoothly, eyes glinting with amusement. “It won’t take long.”

She followed him to his car, a knot of unease tightening in her chest. The sleek, low-slung supercar was cramped, and without hesitation, Kevin leaned toward her.

“Mr. Chunk,” she snapped sharply, a warning edge in her voice.

He laughed lightly, pretending innocence. “Relax, I was just helping you with your seatbelt.”

“You could have asked,” she replied coldly, her tone sharper now.

Most women might have giggled at his antics—or so he thought—but Estella held his gaze steadily, unimpressed. For the first time, Kevin took a step back. “Alright, alright. My mistake. I apologize.”

Even he was surprised at how quickly the words slipped from his mouth. There was something about the way she calmly pulled away that made him want to reach out and stop her.

She settled herself firmly in the seat, buckled her own belt, and said curtly, “Drive.”

The waitress stiffened, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment, and stalked away on her stiletto heels.

Estella’s stomach twisted in discomfort. She stood abruptly. “Excuse me.”

The restroom was worse than she’d imagined. A nauseating, over-the-top attempt at “playful” design: pink walls, a toilet shaped like crimson lips, faucet handles modeled after male anatomy, and tissues stacked beside a box of condoms.

A wave of revulsion knotted her gut. This entire place was a shrine to degradation, every detail crafted for male amusement. Kevin had dragged her here as if she were nothing more than an accessory to his indulgence.

As she washed her hands, the same waitress entered, eyes flickering over Estella with a mixture of envy and curiosity.

“Where’d you get your face and chest done?” she blurted out. “They look so real. Mind sharing your surgeon’s info?”

Estella froze, caught between the urge to laugh and the desire to recoil in disgust. She let out a sharp breath, unsure how to respond.