THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.
Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Chapter 55

Then, to Samuel’s surprise, Cora didn’t raise her voice or frown. She just let out a tired sigh, her shoulders dropping slightly. Her eyes, though calm, held a firm distance in them as she looked at him and said, "Well, thank you for your concern. Thank you for showing how worried you are and all that."

She then glanced around the clean, quiet parking lot—lined with trimmed hedges and watched over by security—and continued with a cool tone, "As you can see, I’m fine. There’s no pervert around here. There’s nobody to harass me around here. So, you can get going now and just let me be."

Samuel smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was the type of smile someone gives when they’re pretending to agree but aren’t planning to back down.

"Well," he said, clasping his hands behind him, "since the person you’re waiting for will soon be here... why shouldn’t I just wait for the person to come before I leave? I mean, it wouldn’t feel right to just walk away after seeing my boss standing all alone in the parking lot." He gave a quick shrug. "You’re my boss now, after all, I know that. I just can’t let that image sit well with me."

Cora didn’t say anything. She just looked at him without expression.

Samuel took that silence as a chance to press on. He didn’t really care who she was waiting for—he already had an idea it was a man. But he didn’t want to know the details. All he cared about was that he had only a small window left to make his next move before the person arrived.

He needed to act fast. The plan was already in motion. His photographer was nearby, out of sight but ready with the camera. He just needed one good shot—one image of him and Cora close together. That would be enough to spin the story. The media wouldn’t even need to confirm it; the image alone would explode the rumor that he and Cora were getting close again.

So he glanced at her once more, then casually reached up and pulled off the sleek, tailored jacket he wore over his shirt. "You know, Cora," he said with a touch of concern in his voice, "I know you look amazing, you always do, but I can tell you might be catching a little cold. The wind tonight is no joke."

Then, just as he took a few steps closer, holding out the jacket like a gentleman, ready to gently place it on her shoulders—

Cora raised her hand, stopping him cold in his tracks. Her voice was calm but firm, "No, don’t. I’m fine."

At that moment, seeing that Cora was clearly resisting him—and that was not what he had planned, not what he wanted at all— Samuel’s smile twitched slightly. Still, he didn’t want to give up. So he tried to force the jacket onto her shoulders, saying with a casual tone, "No, no, no, it’s not that deep. It’s not too bad, just put it on before the person comes. Definitely, you’ll give me back my jacket. I’m not asking you to take it home with you or something."

He chuckled lightly, as if trying to make it seem like a harmless gesture. He was talking his way through it, trying to make her feel like it wasn’t a big deal. All he needed was for the jacket to rest on her shoulders—just long enough for the camera lens hidden nearby to capture the perfect picture. That was all he wanted.

But Cora didn’t budge. She was firm. "I’m not going to put it on," she said sharply. "I’m okay."

Still, Samuel didn’t stop. He leaned in slightly, still trying to force it on her—playfully, but persistent. His tone stayed light, but his actions were getting pushy. Cora was clearly uncomfortable now, backing away a little, lifting her arm to stop him.

That was the moment Oliver arrived.

Without hesitation, Oliver stepped forward and grabbed Samuel’s wrist mid-air, stopping him completely. His grip was firm. His eyes? Cold and sharp.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" Oliver’s voice was calm but dangerous.

Samuel, stunned, quickly stepped back. For a moment, he froze—his eyes scanned Oliver up and down. The man standing in front of him wasn’t just handsome; he had a commanding physique, tall, composed, with a solid presence that made anyone standing near feel small.

This wasn’t who he expected.

And worst of all? Cora didn’t even put the jacket on, the plan was ruined.

There was no good photo to sell. No jacket-on-the-shoulder shot. The only image the hidden photographer might have captured would be him awkwardly trying to convince her, maybe even looking desperate. That would be useless.

Now that he had seen Oliver in person, it stung. He couldn’t deny it—when it came to looks, presence, or even confidence, Oliver had it. He had everything. And for the first time, Samuel felt completely outmatched.

At that moment, Oliver didn’t hesitate. He shoved Samuel’s hand backward with force, stepping forward with a warning in his eyes. "Don’t even think of trying that again," Oliver said coldly. "Don’t ever try to repeat what you were just doing."

His voice was firm, calm, but filled with warning.

Then, with a sharp breath, Oliver added under his breath, "Why would you even try such nonsense?"

At that moment, Samuel let out a laugh—but not the kind that came from the heart. It was the kind of laugh people use to mask irritation, laced with arrogance, shallow and dry. He shook his head slightly, brushing invisible dust off the shoulder of his sleek jacket, then glanced at Oliver with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Wow," Samuel muttered with exaggerated disbelief. "I see what’s going on here. You don’t know me, do you?"

"I mean, seriously... don’t you know who I am? Everyone knows me. Even five-year-olds. I’m not trying to brag, but come on."