She touched her tender arm and was about to ask Ross to help her retrieve it. She really didn't want to go back inside and see Harold anymore...

‘Suddenly, a long leg stepped out of a black Rolls-Royce.

It wasn't Ross, but it was Waylen.

Under the neon lights, he looked regal and handsome.

Rena was feeling a bit tipsy, and after a moment, she asked coldly, "Why are you here?”

Waylen took off his coat and placed it on her shoulders.

Rena struggled for a moment but found herself firmly wrapped in his coat. It smelled of rosin, and she was engulfed in the warmth of it.

He held her close, pressing his lips against her ear, and said unwillingly, "Mrs. Fowler, you're having too much fun."

"It's none of your business. Let go of me."

"No."

As they continued their little argument, a man emerged from the club.

It was Harold.

In his hand, he held Rena's fur coat. Seeing the couple hugging, he smiled faintly and said in a gentle and indulgent tone, "Rena, you left your coat.”

Rena's body stiffened upon hearing him.

Despite she was having a fight with Waylen, for their reputation's sake, she never wanted to make a scene outside their house.

Waylen was furious.

He held his wife and glared at Harold with fiery eyes...

Harold took a bold step forward.

Waylen slightly leaned to the side, opened the car door, and pushed Rena inside. Then he sneered at Harold.

"Thank you, Mr. Moore."

Waylen reached out to take Rena's coat.

Harold held on to it, and the two men engaged in a subtle tug-of-war. Eventually, Harold relented and let go.