His Belated Love for the Abandoned Ex-Wife Chapter 338: A Near Accident

Iris knew Julian had already figured some things out.

Whether she worked with the police or not, she was in a dangerous spot.

The sky was stained with evening red as they drove for about half an hour, finally pulling up in front of an upscale restaurant downtown.

Brandon had been waiting outside. The moment he saw Iris step out of the car, he walked right up to her. "You okay?" he asked, his voice low with concern.

"I'm fine," Iris replied softly before turning slightly. "Brandon, this is my brother, Ethan. Ethan, this is Brandon—a good friend of mine."

The two men shook hands briefly, exchanging polite nods, before everyone moved inside.

They made their way down a long, softly lit hallway toward the private dining room.

Celeste quickened her pace until she was walking beside Iris.

"I'm your brother's wife now," she hissed under her breath, voice icy. "But you still can't even call me that. Still giving me those looks. You haven't changed one bit—always so cold, so above everyone else."

Iris kept her eyes ahead, continuing down the hall as if she hadn't heard a word.

Celeste's pride stung. She wasn't being treated like family, wasn't being acknowledged—not even looked at.

Anger boiled under her skin, turning her face pale with suppressed rage.

Just then, a server approached from the opposite direction, carefully carrying a large pot of steaming hot chili broth.

A dark glint flashed in Celeste's eyes. She took a sudden half-step ahead, and as the waiter passed by Iris, Celeste subtly stuck out her foot.

Caught off balance, Iris stumbled forward.

From behind, all four men saw it at once.

They moved almost in unison—Julian and Scott both reaching for Iris while the waiter startled backward, the pot tilting dangerously in his hands.

A splash of fiery oil sloshed over the rim, just missing Iris' arm.

It was too close.

For a second, both Iris and the server stood frozen, hearts pounding.

Julian, Ethan, and Brandon were at her side immediately—hands on her shoulders, checking her over, voices tight with worry.

"You alright?" Brandon asked, his gaze scanning her face.

"Did it burn you?" Ethan's voice was strained.

"Iris, talk to me—are you hurt?" Julian's eyes were dark with intensity.

Seeing Iris seemed shaken but unharmed, Scott turned to the rattled server. "I'm so sorry—are you okay? Did any get on you?"

The young man shook his head, still wide-eyed. Iris also shook hers quietly, both of them staring at the nearly spilled pot of bubbling red broth.

Celeste stood slightly apart, fists clenched at her sides.

Jealousy and resentment burned through her, sharp and bitter.

What was it about Iris?

Why did every man around her rush to protect her, care for her, treat her like something precious?

It had been that way since Celeste first met her—and now even her own husband was no different.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, drawing a sharp breath. Her eyes turned cold and shadowed, nails digging into her palms.

The hatred inside her only grew deeper.

"I'm fine," Iris murmured at last, her voice steady but soft.

Julian exhaled slowly, then his gaze cut toward Celeste—cold and sharp.

They'd all seen what happened. The deliberate trip, the near-accident—it made Julian's expression tighten with fury. He took a step toward her.

But Ethan moved first, blocking his path. His face was grave. "She's my wife. Let me deal with this."

The hallway fell still, everyone watching quietly.

Ethan walked up to Celeste. Without a word, he slapped her—once, twice, hard across the face.

"Smack. Smack."

The sound echoed in the quiet corridor.

The server stood frozen, not daring to move.

Celeste held her stinging, reddened cheeks, tears welling but not falling. Her voice trembled with rage. "That's the second time today you've hit me because of her, Ethan. Do you really think I won't divorce you?"

Ethan didn't back away. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his hand snapping up to grip her neck, pinning her against the wall.

His eyes were full of a hatred she'd never seen before.

"Listen carefully," he ground out, each word slow and heavy. "She is my sister. My own blood. I worked my hands raw to put her through school, to help her build a life. Everything she's become—that's my pride. And you..." His grip tightened. "You dragged her into hell with Arden. That alone is enough. And now you try to hurt her?"

Celeste trembled, fear flashing in her widening eyes. She clawed at his wrist, trying to pull him away, shaking her head frantically.

"If you ever lay a hand on my sister again," Ethan said, his voice low and rough, "I will end you."

His eyes were red-rimmed, his words carrying three years of pent-up fury.

Celeste fought back a sob, defiance rising through the fear. "I'm your wife! And you care this much about your sister? What's wrong with you? No wonder your ex hated Iris—you're obsessed with her, you sick—"

Ethan's expression turned brutal.

He didn't speak—just squeezed tighter, the muscles in his arm corded and tense, until Celeste's protests choked into silence.