My Husband Is a Gary Stu

Over in a private room at Golden Restaurant, Sylvie took a sip of coffee cautiously as she sneaked a glance at the man sitting opposite her.

He was wearing a lightweight black turtleneck and slacks. The metal lighter in his hand flickered intermittently in his hand as he sat there quietly playing with it. It was as if he was living in his own elegant void, unperturbed by the world.

A frown sat on Sylvie's brows when she glanced at him another time.

Sylvie had heard of the man's talent. It was him who had reminded her of her lines while they were filming For Elise together.

He was able to ease into just any role within a short period of time.

She wondered how someone without a prominent family background like him managed to give people the impression of an unapproachable aristocrat.

Has he always been this distant to everyone?

She tried to recall what things were like between them when they worked together, but her train of thought was interrupted when the door swung open. The waiter ushered in Jack and Nathalia.

The glass in Sylvie's hand almost dropped the moment she saw Jack.

After experiencing Jack's atrocious cruelty herself, Sylvie had been traumatized.

She thought Jack had only asked her and Bruce there for a meal that day, but when she saw Genevieve, she was afraid that Jack would give Genevieve the leeway to deal with her however she liked.

Sylvie peeked at Bruce, who had not moved an inch at all ever since he came in, and felt assured. Bruce had told her that he married her because he owed someone else a favor, so she figured that he would not just sit idly by if anything happened to her.

When Jack and Nathalia came in, Armand looked at them and saw Nathalia's cold and languid gaze.

One glance was enough to dishearten Armand.

Nathalia sat down as if she did not see the other two people in the private room. She picked up the menu, ordered seven to eight dishes, and flung the menu at Jack.

Jack was not interested in eating. Instead, he looked up at Nathalia and said, “You're not saying hi to your old friends?”

Although he had heard the conversation between Cooper, Timothy, and the doctor from the listening device, he still could not reconcile himself with the fact that Genevieve had developed a split personality disorder, so he deliberately arranged for a meal with the people Genevieve was most familiar with and hated the most.

Nathalia raised her head, sweeping her gaze between Sylvie and Armand. “What do they have to do with me?” she scoffed.

Then, she called the waiter over and ordered a white peach cocktail.

“I'm sorry,” the young and charming waiter answered in a melodious voice. “Our restaurant doesn't have a bartender. What about a canned cocktail?”

Nathalia glanced at him and reached for her bag, pulling out a stack of cash. “Get me one, then. I don't take canned alcohol.”

He stared at her for a moment before taking the money and going out.