The Rewritten Love: A Second Beginning Max Charming

Chapter 902

Rapid footsteps approached the door, followed by a sharp knock. “Mr. Jardin,” called a voice from

the other side.

Zach turned from peering at the door to Madelyn, noting her swollen red eyes and the tear tracks on her face. He softly brushed away her tears with his thumb. “I’ve got some things to take care of, but I’ll be back soon,” he assured her with a gentle tone.

Zach stood up, and Madelyn, looking mad, chucked a pillow at him. He did not even flinch. Picking up the pillow, he put it back behind her.

“I’ll never marry you!” Madelyn snapped, her eyes fiery.

Zach smoothed her hair gently, “Hey, just be good, okay?”

Zach exited the room and closed the door behind him. As he walked, he heard sounds echoing–a sign the hallway was not soundproof. Upon going one floor down, he asked his bodyguard, “What’s

the situation?”

Speaking softly, the bodyguard replied, “We caught a paparazzi snapping photos.”

The warmth in Zach’s eyes turned to ice, “Where is he?”

“He’s detained in the lobby, waiting for your instructions.”

A reporter was sprawled on the ground in the lobby, his pricey camera lying nearby.

Berry, the reporter, was desperately trying to free himself. He said in a strong voice, “Let me go! I’ve done nothing wrong. Just so you know, my friend

I’m going to sue you

“Go ahead and try

of the paparazzi. Known for his dramatic climb from a foster child to the CEO of Jardin Corporation, his influence was unmatched in Ventropolis. Now, face to

joke, Mr. Jardin,” Patrick stuttered in

that camera–nothing of

from the bodyguard. He sat with an ease that belied the intimidating air

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the top, no big deal. However, once he actually met Zach, Patrick regretted ever

quickly went through the photos on the camera, showing no emotion. For a brief

might get away with just a warning.

“Break his leg.”

bodyguard gave a grave nod,

stammered, “W-Wait, please. This

their way!”

gave Patrick a stern look, “Start talking now,

Three,

could reach ‘one,’ panic overtook Patrick. “Okay, okay! It’s on me,” he

overtaking him.

up. Quickly, Patrick’s gaze shifted to the door, and he made a break for it. He had not gotten far when an ashtray flew at him, striking him right behind the knee. The impact sent him crashing down to his