Her Second Marriage, Being Mr. Moore's New Wife

Chapter 23 Stop Defaming Him

It was a pair of hands, warm and strong, that firmly held up Charlotte as she fell.

Everything seemingly turned quiet for a while, when brightness gradually returned to her eyes against

her terribly pale face.

The straight and sinewy legs came into her sight, leading her to the face of the rescuer above her.

It was a man with deep eyes, cold and sharp eyebrows, pursed lips, exuding hostility in the air. Though

sitting on a wheelchair, he possessed a natural imposing manner that seemed strong enough to

overwhelm all around him.

The crowd couldn’t help but step backward as they stood in awe of him, looking at the unexpected

arrival with astonishment.

Who was he?!

Faint and transfixed, Charlotte was sitting there, staring up at Kennedy Moore, who kept holding her

up.

“You ... you’re still here?”

She thought that he should have left due to her looked bad in those dresses, but it turned out that he

didn’t.

“Won’t you get up?” His pitch-black eyes focused on her, as he asked in a low voice.

The words brought Charlotte back to earth. Just as she intended to stand up following his gesture, a This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

burst of tearing sound came from below - the dress with embroidered skirts, which was heavy enough

to strip her off in public if she proceeded.

“Oh, no.”

With a deep frown and unpleasant eyes, Kennedy was glued to her.

Charlotte bit her lower lip and spoke in embarrassment, “The skirt ... the skirt will fall off, and it’ll be

revealing.”

Kennedy narrowed his eyes, sizing her up.

She felt herself a complete loser. How humiliated she was at this time! Would Kennedy turn his back on

her and leave?

As she was pondering, she was covered by a jacket. Surprised, she raised her head, her frightened

eyes greeted by his.

“You ...”

“Won’t you get up?”

Charlotte squared herself with his suit jacket on, and stood up with the help of his support.

His hands were thick and warm, injecting from the palms some sort of impetus and sweetness right into

her heart, which faded away and left a sense of loss in her as they were retracted after Charlotte stood

on her feet.

But she was enveloped by a pleasantly strong masculine scent on the jacket, dispelling her

nervousness and anxiety, giving her a feeling that she was not alone.

For the first time in so many years, she felt she was being protected by someone.

“Who pushed her down?”

The man’s voice was as cold and harsh as water cutting through stones deep in the mountains.

The saleswoman had finished her phone call. Now, seeing the plot twist, she stared at him in fear. She

had not treated Charlotte harshly until she thought the man in the wheelchair had left, as she had bad

vibes about him. She guessed he disappeared only because of Charlotte’s foolishness.

But now he was back. What was going on?

She rolled her eyes, recalling what had just happened, too dreaded to voice.

“Again I ask, who pushed her down?”

This time, his august and cold voice sounded even more formidable, astonishing the onlookers.

How could a man be so commanding when he was in a wheelchair? It sent shudders through people.

One of them who had just accused Charlotte hastened to disown the thing and pass the buck to the

saleswoman, “It’s none of our business. It’s the clerk who made the accusation. We just came to see

what had happened.”

“Yeah, exactly. The clerk said the lady intentionally ruined the dress and has called the police.”

The clerk no longer had her domineering manner, barely able to say anything. Now pointed as the

villain, she waved her hands in a panic, trying to defend herself, “No, sir, the lady knocked into the wall

by accident and then fell down and ripped the dress.”

Charlotte lowered her eyes. Indeed it was the fault of no one else but herself, who was being so

careless.

“Really?” Kennedy sneered disdainfully and raised his voice, “So none is shirking their responsibility?”

The clerk shuddered at his cold tone, her lips quivering, unable to squeeze out a reply.

Seeing all this, Milana Shinn was a bit disgruntled. How did it come to this? Who was that man in the

wheelchair? How could a cripple be capable to scare the crowd here?

Wondering all this, Milana burst out, “Charlotte, it’s you who fell down and ripped the dress. Even

though you’ve gotten someone behind you now, do you think you can just scapegoat other people? No

wonder Aldrich divorced you as you are so vain and irresponsible.”

As the words fell, Kennedy sensed the enmity and swept over to Milana with a sharp look in his eyes.

Aldrich Donald, who was cuddling Milana, felt his hair stood on end as he met Kennedy’s eyes.

Frightened, he tightened his arm around Milana and whispered, “Babe, we shall go and leave them

alone.”

“No.” His wife held his arms, pouted her red lips and said, “Aldrich, if we simply leave, no one could

help the clerk out. It’s obviously not her fault; it was Charlotte herself who ripped the dress, a dress

worth 300,000 yuan. She and that man will definitely weasel out.”

Ever since Aldrich won the 5-million-yuan lottery, Milana had felt that she was in her heyday as she and

her husband were millionaires!

A narrow-minded woman like her during pregnancy would have everyone make way for her, already

inflating her ego. Now with the plus of wealth and her identity as Aldrich’s wife, her conceit grew

unprecedentedly dominant.

At this point, looking at the man in the wheelchair, Milana snorted, “Look at you lamer. You must not

even have a job, right? Listen, the dress is no cheapie, worth 300,000 yuan. Know yourself before you

show off your bravery.”

Afterwards, she sighed and proceeded, “Can anyone come to this store these days? Do you really

think you can make yourself a rich man by faking it? Come on, Charlotte. You move on with ... a

cripple? What a good taste you have! Appreciate it.”

Kennedy hated it when he was called a cripple.

It was a taboo even in his own family, where no one dared to mention his humiliation.

But Milana just blurted it out!

Rage simmered in Kennedy’s eyes. Behind him stood Nathan Myron, who just intended to prevent the

outburst of anger in his boss ...

“Stop defaming him!”