Chapter 519 Natalie Is Hurt
"Get a car; we're going back." Casting the baton back to the guards, Oliver instructed Jamie in an icy tone as if he wasn't the same person who had just been wildly smashing the car.
High-end residential complexes always had luxury cars available for transporting guests.
With a nod, Jamie coordinated with the hotel staff. In no time, a BMW pulled up.
Oliver rolled down the window, letting the cool night breeze in, which helped dissipate his anger a bit.
"Jamie." After a while, Oliver called out.
"Sir." Jamie, seated in the passenger seat, turned his head.
"Do you know about me and Natalie?"
"Um… Sir, could you be more specific?"
"The divorce." Oliver hated to utter those words, squeezing them out through clenched teeth.
"I'm aware." Jamie thought carefully before answering, "Sir, I inquired earlier, and a lot of people at tonight's party know about your divorce. Mr. Green, who had a bit too much to drink, blurted out that you and the lady are divorced. So... I reckon everyone who came to the party knows. And it's not just them; quite a few people at our company must know too."
In short, by the end of tonight, nearly the whole social circle will be aware.
Oliver looked piercingly at Jamie.
"Heh!" After a pause, Oliver let out a scornful laugh, dripping with sarcasm, "No need to investigate anymore."
"What's there no need to look into?"
"Who do you think could have spread the news about the divorce?" Oliver half-joked, locking eyes with Jamie in a way that made it impossible to lie. Fresh from the suggestive comments made by Miss Fiona earlier, Jamie reluctantly replied, "The missus."
There were only a few who knew; he and the master had kept silent, and Mrs. Watson certainly wouldn't spill the beans—leaving only the lady herself. It was Natalie who had initiated the divorce. She was the one, who couldn't wait to pack up and move out of the Rosewood Estate after leaving the divorce papers behind.
For the first time, Jamie found a trace of sympathy for his boss who seemed to handle everything else so effortlessly.
On the drive from the party to the apartment, Natalie had sunken into a silent defiance, fixating on her own legs, not uttering a word. It wasn't until the car had been still for a while that she seemed to snap out of her trance.
"Are we here? I'm sorry, Emily, I was lost in thought. Thanks for the ride," she said, coming back to reality.
"Natalie," Emily Reed caught hold of her as she reached for the door handle, "about tonight... I'm so sorry."
Natalie attempted a smile, "How could I blame you for this?"
"It was me who sent out the invites, and I failed to protect you," Emily Reed lamented with guilt. Had she been more cautious, she would have never agreed to let Natalie attend the soirée—or at the very least, not allowed her to be on her own.
"Emily, stop it," Natalie said with a weak smile before letting it fade. "These things were bound to happen sooner or later."
Leaning back in her seat, Natalie gazed up at the car ceiling. "The issue with my leg is my cross to bear, and Mr. Green... let's just say, he won't be the last like him. I know the fashion world isn't as messy as the entertainment industry, but it's nowhere near pristine."
"Natalie, you can count on me—I'll never let you take those sordid paths," Emily Reed grasped Natalie's hand firmly in promise.
"Thanks, Emily," Natalie said, readjusting her mood and reaching for the car door again. "I should get going. Be careful on your way back, okay?"
"I'll walk you to your door," Emily insisted, not wanting to leave her alone.
"No need. I don’t want you to see me like this right now," Natalie said with a bitter laugh.
Through her car window, Emily Reed watched as Natalie's slim figure entered the apartment complex, her gait noticeably unnatural, unlike that of an average person.
At the party earlier, Emily thought about Sharon. She was the only one who seemed to notice something off about Natalie's walk. Did she have an extra pair of eyes than everyone else?
Emily had a hunch that the situation was far from simple.
Natalie couldn't remember how she managed to unlock her door or make it home.
All she could focus on was avoiding others, not letting anyone see the way she stumbled.
Once inside, Natalie dropped her purse on the couch. Too exhausted to change or treat the wound on her shin, she began a cautious attempt to walk normally. She painstakingly tried to find the right rhythm and balance between steps, the regular pause and pressure applied by each foot.
But no matter what, her right leg refused to cooperate, and the formerly minor cut had started to bleed anew from her aggravations.
Putting everything else aside, Natalie kept walking back and forth across the room. The more she rushed, the worse her coordination became, a feeling of wrongness washing over her.
She didn't know what exactly was amiss, though.
Fear and panic crept up from within, making every nerve in her body taut...
It was only when Natalie looked up unintentionally that she saw the morning light hitting the roof of the opposite apartment building - dawn had broken.
Suddenly, her legs gave way; she fell to the floor with a thud, her knee hitting hard, sending a piercing pain through her right leg. The untreated cut worsened as blood oozed out once again.
She'd tried so hard to avoid putting weight on her right leg, yet the more she tried, the less she seemed able to.
A sense of complete helplessness overwhelmed her.
Her vision blurred as tears ran down her cheek.
Dumbfounded, Natalie touched her face and felt tears.
After a moment of stunned silence, Natalie stubbornly grabbed her phone to search for rehabilitation advice on forums, only to find a breaking news alert popping up:
“Natalie's Leg Injured, Rising Star Model's Career Plummets!”
Her heart skipped a beat. Her mind told her not to look, but her body moved on its own, trembling fingers tapping to open the link.
The message included a description of her supposed disability and a video—it was her, lurching awkwardly after injuring her leg outside the mansion.
Watching herself in the video, only one word came to Natalie's mind: ridiculous.
The news had been released in the middle of the night and hadn't made much of an impact, but within two hours, it was suddenly scrubbed from the internet.
Natalie knew that just because the general public wouldn't see the story didn't mean it would escape the gaze of the fashion industry insiders.
As the sun fully rose, Natalie dialed Emily Reed's number, cutting right to the chase, "Emily, how many people have bailed on me?"
Emily Reed was swamped, primarily because of that midnight video, quickly drawing connections to Sharon's confrontation with Natalie at the charity gala.
That video could have been brushed off as an unfortunate stumble leaving the event—a manageable injury. But it would inevitably lead to demands for Natalie to demonstrate her catwalk poise.
However, Natalie was in no condition to meet such demands now.
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